#why have they barely interacted ONE WHY WHY WHY

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 6 — JJK (m.)

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 14.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc, software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 arguments,, lowkey,, emotional constipation like always, kinda angsty if u squint. Also jungkook kinda abuses the fuck out of 23278648 pet names available in the world even eye laughed... SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent bl*wjob scene lmfao, a teeny tiny bit of c*mplay, fing*ring, c*nniling*s, penetr*tive s*x (p in v), c*wgirl s*x, protected s*x, multiple org*sms, jungkook has a filthy mouth 🫤😑😑 ]

NOTES i dont have anything to say except enjoyyy!! let me know your thoughts in my inbox gimme ur theories gimme ur keeb smashes gimme ur 2746th "i want nb jk so bad" 🤓☝🏼💓💓

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

You like to think of yourself as a reasonable person. You make okay decisions, even though it takes you a few weeks and a thousand debriefs. You can’t buy something off the rack without going through 10-year-old posts on Reddit, and you certainly are very keen with people you let into your life – given your two to three friends. 

The point is, while you may be a bit of a klutz, you take your adult life kind of seriously, and especially your relationships.

You were so sure that what happened back at the motel with Jungkook when you were stranded was going to be this whole… one-time-thing. That you both were just horny, stuck in a weird situation, just heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment, and afterwards he would tell you to forget about it. And if he did, you’d accept it. It might crush you a little bit inside, but you know you’ll be fine to keep going on with your life even though that might have been the best orgasm you’ve had since forever and you’d like to experience it again.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that it happened. It was how you felt the next morning. 

There was no regret. 

When you opened your eyes – bleary and barely awake because of the little hours you got in – Jungkook wasn’t in bed. He was coming back through the door with a bag of pastries and coffee from what you assumed was the local bakery. He told you everything was handled, his car and your stuff, and you could take your time getting ready. You’d head back once you were set.

You fell asleep again on the ride home. Jungkook walked you to your apartment and bid you a kind smile when you said goodbye. 

And nothing happened after. No awkward texts. No slow fade. And you were just so ready for the worst thing to happen. Like him suddenly going MIA on you or something… 

But now it’s the day after, and you’re together again in his car after he texted you to ride with him on the way home after work – cramped up in the driver’s seat with you on his lap.

Frantically making out. 

“Oh,” you let out a soft moan, carding your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, not even caring about how you’re messing up his hairdo.

A needy, impatient sort of heat builds between you two. His mouth is on yours, hands exploring like he couldn’t decide where to start. Another moan slips out from you he cups the swell of your ass through your trousers, and a rush of frustration bubbles up in your chest.  

God, why didn’t you wear a skirt?

“You smell good,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck, kissing a slow trail up to your jaw before groaning as you rock against him, grinding against the growing bulge pressing up through his slacks. 

“Y-yeah?” you mumble, tugging at his tie and popping open the first three buttons of his shirt. Your fingers graze his chest, warm and solid and stupidly inviting. 

“This is the scent you wore back at the party.” He untucks your blouse from your waistband, his warm hands sending shivers down your spine when they travel across the span of your back.

Yeah. And also the scent you exclusively use for special, big occasions. Because in the true broke girl tradition, there’s always that unreasonably priced perfume you keep in your vanity while you spritz the hell out of the cheap one. You’ve only used it a total of ten times ever since you bought it a month ago, the eleventh time being now… which is just a regular day in the office.

But being in Jungkook’s lap and making out with him in his car is not regular day in the office. So maybe you lucked out on spraying that expensive perfume – totally because it was just there on your vanity, by the way – and not because you were expecting something to happen today.

Totally.

“Uh, yeah,” you shift on his lap. “It was on sale.” 

Which is probably information he did not need and a total bald-faced lie. 

He hums, kisses dropping down to your sternum, hands getting heavier under your clothes. You take his face in your hands again to press your mouth on him, your moan getting swallowed by his eager reciprocity, both in the movement of his tongue inside your mouth and his erection that’s making you wet your panties as you rock your hips against him. 

Jungkook’s fingers trace the cups of your bra. “Can I?” He asks, mouth agape. You don’t even know what he meant, you just nod. A second later and he’s squeezing your breasts in his palms.

“S-so you wanted to drive me home for this?” you arch your brow at him playfully, grinding against his lap and relishing in the warmth of his hands on your chest. God, you wish he’d do something about your bra soon. 

Jungkook chuckles, nipping your jaw. “No. I wanted to ask you to come over to my place to have dinner.”

As if that triggered your intestines, your stomach suddenly growls – quite loudly in the confined space of his car and around the quiet parking lot of the building. 

Jungkook freezes, staring at you. 

You shut your eyes close in embarrassment, groaning. “Ugh, sorry. I haven’t eaten at all today and you mentioning dinner is making me remember that.” 

“Oh…”

Jungkook reluctantly watches you as you carefully leave his lap, completely halting your previous activity. He grips your hand as he helps you transfer to the passenger’s seat, looking at you as you put your hair up and tuck your shirt.

He adjusts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. You can’t help but eye the very obvious outline of his dick in his pants, and it’s very huge, alright, making you grin. 

“I hope that’s not gonna be a problem.” 

Jungkook takes in the mischief in your eyes and scoffs playfully, shaking his head as he starts the ignition to drive. 

You spend about thirty minutes in the shower – which is definitely not at all your usual routine – but it did the job. You smell like raspberries now, and the outfit you pulled on afterwards looks casual enough for Jungkook not to suspect what’s going on underneath. Just an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Innocent. Normal. 

But you have on a lacy pair of white thong… just in case something does happen tonight. At least you’re the least bit prepared… 

When you look at your phone, it’s already 10:15pm, and Jungkook told you to be over at his place at 10:20. You check yourself in the mirror one last time and head straight to the kitchen where you grab the plastic container of a batch of choco-chip cookies you baked the second he dropped you off earlier.

You’ve perfected the recipe now, you’re sure of it. 

But just as you make a beeline for your door, a sudden warmth gushes between your thighs.

An all too familiar feeling by now. 

Oh no.

You dash to the bathroom, tug your pajama pants down, slide off your panties and – yep. There it is. A bright red stain against the flimsy white fabric that went right through the pants.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, frowning. Of all the nights to get your period, of course it had to be this one.

You had showered. Prepped. Put on the g-string. And you were this close to maybe – possibly – having sex with Jungkook. You hadn’t said anything about it, not outright, but come on. That impulsive make-out session in the car earlier? The way he kept adjusting himself? The tension practically humming between you?

Yeah, something was definitely going to happen.

Well, probably not anymore.

Grumbling, you toss your pants into the laundry and rummage through your cabinet for a pad. You move like you’re trudging through emotional mud, begrudgingly pulling on a clean pair of a less sexier granny panties and fresh bottoms.

So much for that.

It’s not like you had any of this figured out anyway. No “so, what happened” talk, no conversations about the night at the motel or whatever is… happening now. And now your uterus has decided to sabotage you. Amazing. 

Still, cookies in hand and spirits only mildly deflated, you head out of your apartment and make your way to Jungkook’s porch. 

He opens the door on the second buzz, greeting you with a grin that makes your stomach flip. Even more so when you realize he’s wearing sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Ugh. This man.

“Hi.” 

“Hey, come in,” Jungkook says, eyeing the plastic in your hand. “What’s that?” 

“Cookies.” you bring it up to your chest. “I made them real quick so it’s not a lot. But I can assure you it’s better now and you definitely won’t get food poison.” 

He chuckles, leading the way to his living area. “You say that as if I got food poisoning the first time.” 

“Maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.” 

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You know you didn’t have to bring something, right?” 

“Uh-huh.,” you mutter, following him in, “but since you’re making dinner, I thought I could take care of dessert.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, your face scrunch up. 

Jungkook pauses just long enough to glance back at you, amused, before shaking his head again with another soft laugh. 

What? What did he think you meant by that? Geez… 

Comfortable silence settles between you, the soft clinking of wine glasses and the distant narration of some random BBC documentary filling the space. You teased Jungkook again about his massive TV – said the faces look so big that it’s just kind of funny – but really, it’s kind of cute the way his ears flush red when he gets shy talking about his stuff. 

You talk. About work, mostly. Jungkook’s been pulling longer shifts, taking on more than usual. You tell him about your days have been the same lately, just mindless repetition. He compliments the cookies you brought, and after a bit of coaxing, admits the first batch you made for him weeks ago were kind of bad. You laugh and pretend to be offended.

It was nice. 

Somehow, you talk about everything and nothing. Not once either of you mentioned the motel. Not the kiss in the parking lot. Not even a vague nod to the tension that’s been following you around like a ghost. 

And maybe that’s the problem.

It feels like Jungkook’s waiting for you to jump the gun first. But how the hell are you supposed to do that? How do you casually bring up the fact that he kissed you like he meant it? How exactly are you going to talk about the night you shared a kiss with the man you think you’ve liked for so many weeks now? How are you going to talk about how he made you orgasm to sleep because it was the best you've ever had since and it was so much better than the scenarios you’ve made up in your head? And god, those scenarios didn’t even live up to the very real thing. 

You want to bring it up. God, you need to. Not because you’re hopeful that this night would lead to something – but because you just need to know if he would want to do that again sometime.

But something in you is scared that Jungkook will suddenly speak up and tell you the night was a mistake and you both should get over it.

But you also know that kiss in the parking lot must’ve meant something. The way you just jumped at each other like you weren't in a public space and Jungkook not minding one bit must’ve meant that he wanted it too.

That maybe, just like you, he can’t help but notice the thick tension up in the air as you sit on the couch so close to each other, his familiar scent overwhelming your senses, and the way he looks so cozy in his white shirt and… grey sweatpants. Ugh. You swear you weren’t going to pay any attention to it as soon as he opened that door, but how could you not when he just looks way too effortlessly good and you know exactly what it's hiding–

“You want some more?” 

Your thoughts are cut short when Jungkook suddenly speaks, looking at your wine glass. 

“Uh…” you glance at the clock. “No, I should probably get going. It’s almost 11. I have work tomorrow– we have work tomorrow,” you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at the wall clock across the room. 

Just like that, you go back to your shell again, overwhelmed by your anxiety and fear of rejection. 

But for a brief second, Jungkook looks disappointed by your response, although he’s quick to wipe that off with a smile. 

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Okay. Well maybe you didn’t really want him to say that at all. 

Hiding your disappointment this time, you stand up from the seat and let Jungkook talk you into leaving the wine glasses on the coffee table as opposed to bringing it to the kitchen yourself, as Jungkook insisted he’ll take care of it once you leave. 

Jungkook’s hand lingers on your lower back as you stand by his door, ready to say goodbye. 

“Thanks for the dinner.” you say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook smiles. “We can do this again sometime.” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow, then?” 

You halt your steps, lips curling into a half-smile. “That flatters me.” 

Jungkook leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was hoping so.” 

You bite back a grin, nod, turning to leave. But…

“__—”

“Jungkook—”

Your head snaps quickly to his direction, and you both stare at each other in surprise. Jungkook’s gaze melts into a soft look.

“You first.” 

“No, you first.” 

“___,” he says with a chuckle, coaxing. 

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. 

Just take the chance, something in your head tells you. 

And you took the bait. 

“This is going to sound incredibly stupid,” you start, voice low and hesitant. “but what happened back at the motel ��� I’m not sure if we’re allowed to talk about that again — but we kind of kissed this afternoon and I… I don’t know what that meant. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I wanna do it again sometime. If you’re willing,” you voice wavers, trying to look into his eyes but the weight of your words crawl deep in your skin it makes you scared to even make eye contact. “But if you’re not, then that’s totally fine. We can forget it happened.” 

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Panic starts to rise in your chest – until Jungkook steps forward.

“If I’m willing?” He echoes, blinking like he’s not sure he heard you right. 

You nod, wary. “Y-yeah…?” 

He steps closer, and your breath catches. 

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since then?” He takes a tentative touch to your hips, and when you don’t say a thing or make a move to pry him off, Jungkook takes a hold of you to pull you closer, making you gasp quietly. “Everytime I close my eyes, all I can think about is how I’ve held these hips as I licked you, kissed you, and touched you. I’ve never been one to give in to my wants as easy as the way you made me when we walked back to my car this afternoon because all I wanted to do was to have a taste of you again, even though I would’ve liked for us to talk first. That means I can’t have enough,” Jungkook studies your face as he leans down, gaze so full of want, but there’s a certain control under his hold. It makes your breath hitch.

“And you want to know if I’m willing?” Jungkook tacks on, lifting his hand to caress your cheek, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. You anticipate his next words, but when he presses you closer – that’s when you feel it. The hard-on he’s sporting under the grey sweatpants you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you walked in on his apartment.  

“Oh…” you gasp, reaching for his shoulder as you feel your knees slightly buckling. 

Then, Jungkook chuckles, amused. But it’s dark and rich, and his boner is still very much pressing to your stomach. 

In the heat of the moment, you stand on your tippy toes and kiss Jungkook. 

He seems to be surprised at it first, but his arms slowly make their way around you to hold you as you tighten yours around his neck, letting out a soft moan when his tongue prods in. 

You stumble inside, Jungkook walking you back inside his apartment all the while not breaking the kiss, and the next thing you know, he’s kicking off the door shut, hands travelling down to your legs to carry you across his apartment. 

You yelp at the sudden way your feet get lifted off the ground, but Jungkook carries you with a certain grace as if you’re nothing but paperweight – hot tongue swirling around your mouth like kissing you was a lifeline. 

He lays you down gently on the couch, trailing kisses along your jaw. When you grab at the hem of his shirt, he sits back to quickly rid himself off the material. 

You bite on your bottom lip as soon as you see what’s on display. Wide chest, narrow waist, toned abdomen, and sculpted arms with ink. You would’ve liked to admire it more but Jungkook quickly goes back to kissing you after taking off his shirt, hands roaming all over your body as if he can’t quite decide where to put it at all. Then, he kneels in between your spread legs, slowly settling himself down on the floorboards. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his lips leave trail kisses down your neck to your sternum, until his hands slide your top off your stomach, kissing the exposed skin. 

Your hands settle on his soft locks, where you admire the way he moves down your body, huge hands splayed on your skin, making you ache in between your legs.

Your eyes blow out as you remember exactly what’s in between your legs. 

Fuck. 

Before Jungkook can kiss you there, you grab at his shoulders. “Jungkook,” 

He looks up quickly, fringe going in different directions, biceps unconsciously flexing at your touch. “Hm?” 

Even though it pains you, you tell him, “We can’t tonight…” 

“Ah, that’s alright,” He looks up at you in genuine concern. “You’re not feeling okay tonight?” 

You shake your head. “No… that’s not it,” You make a face, feeling annoyed all over again. God. Hot sex was on the table. And your period just ruined it. “I got my period. My cycle usually starts at the end of the month.” 

Jungkook nods in realization, squeezing your hips in understanding.

“Sorry, then. Should I get you something? I think I may have ice cream in the fridge.” He raises a brow, eyes drifting off to his kitchen. 

You take his cheek, grabbing his jaw gently to make him look at you. 

“Actually… I was thinking we don’t have to stop.” 

His eyes may have lightened up, and Jungkook takes your wrist to press a kiss to the side of your hand. 

“Yeah, I don’t really mind as long as you’re comfortable with it. We’ll put on a towel— okay, I can see on your face that’s not what you meant.” 

“No…? I was thinking I’ll give you a blowjob instead.” 

“Ah…” Jungkook nods again. “Are you sure? Don’t you have cramps?” 

You chuckle. “Not yet. It’ll kick in on the second day,” You nudge him with your foot. “Come on up here.” 

“You’re sure? We don’t need to do anything, baby,” 

Baby. God. That nickname had always been so generic but there’s something about the way it rolls off Jungkook's tongue. 

“I’m sure.” 

Jungkook gives you one of his million dollar smiles and kisses his way back up until your lips meet again. 

“Can I?” You nod when Jungkook tugs at your shirt. With your permission, he slides your top off, hissing at the sight of your bra-cladded chest. 

He goes down to lick your nipple through the material, and you grab his hair when you feel him give you a slightly harsh nip. He licks it again, as if offering some sort of silent apology. 

When he pulls the cups down, that’s when you push him to the side making him fall to the couch, and you take that time to kneel down this time in between his spread legs. 

“Put this on your knees first.” Jungkook hands you the throw pillow on the couch. You take them and fluff them under your knees, and when you finish doing that, you attend to Jungkook’s very taunting grey sweatpants, tugging it off him. He helps you slide the pants off together with his boxers – and you have to fight the urge to take it slow when his hard cock springs free. 

You’ve seen it before, have held it – but those moments felt so brief that they almost didn’t feel real. So when you see it up-close, so girthy and standing tall against his abdomen with the angry red tip slightly leaking, your breath gets caught up in your throat. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook lets out a low groan when you begin teasing kisses to his thighs.

His gorgeous, thick thighs.

God… you wonder how it would tense up with your feet resting on them as you bounce up and down on his huge cock. 

But you watch the way they clench when your lips get nearer to where he aches; watch as they tense under your touch when you place your hands there. And you watch Jungkook – most especially – as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, dark with want, his chest heaving under the tension. 

“Is this what you want?” You ask, blinking at him meekly. His mouth opens to speak, but you don’t let him say another word as you let a glob of saliva fall down to the crown of his cock. You adjust your position in between his thighs, getting more comfortable but also pushing your ass out as you wrap your hand around the base. 

Jungkook hisses when you twist your hand, gingerly spreading the wetness of your saliva around him. He lets his back fall to the back of the couch with a light thud, and you smirk when you see his abs clench. 

“You’re killing me here, __. Don’t tease.” 

You give him a non-committal hum. You meant to tease, but touching him like this feels like all your thoughts have suddenly gone to mush, and you’re left with only want – the want to pleasure him, to get him to let out those little huffs and grunts like when you two kissed…

You languidly move your hand around his shaft, humming at the way his tip oozes out more wetness which makes it easier for you to stroke him. You can’t help but watch in fascination as he seems to continue to grow around you. So hard and veiny… almost needy, the way he breathes heavily above you.

“Baby, fuck… you’re so pretty, god—” Jungkook’s words get cut off when you lean down to close your lips around the head, sucking at the softer tip before you take more of his length. “F-fuck…” Jungkook rasps, fingers gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail when you start bobbing your head up and down.

He feels big. Warm. But you smile to yourself when Jungkook shifts on the couch at the sensation. It felt good to have him squirming like that beneath your touch, to have him keening like this. 

Gripping the base, you twist your fingers around the remaining length you couldn’t put in your mouth, jacking him off. From there, you start picking up your pace until Jungkook’s a panting mess. You’ve never pegged him as the type to be so… vocal. But it felt good, and at this point, you just want to see him let go of himself, even as he grips your hair tighter by every second that passes. It didn’t hurt enough to be uncomfortable, the force was just right – and it felt like he’s holding on to every muscle of his to not use too much force on your head by the way you can feel his other hand hovering over your hair. 

“Ah, __… baby, shit. Yeah, you’re taking my cock so well– shit…”

You pump him faster, and every now and then, you would suck at the tip gingerly, kiss the veins around his rock hard dick, roam with your tongue, and test the waters and massage his balls. Soft groans escape past his lips, hips arching off the couch.

“Shit— baby, fuck,” 

You hum, pleased with that. Your tongue teases the underside of his cock with every downstroke, just to hear him swear. You lick off the glistening juice off the head, lick around the ridge, and tighten your grip around the base, sinking your mouth up and down faster.

“God, your mouth is–aghh– Jesus fuck baby I’m gonna–” 

You slurp noisily around his cock as you try to take him deeper – and at one point you actually feel him hitting the back of your throat but you were careful enough to adjust your angle and continue to suck him up and down. Jungkook’s gasps increase in speed and pitch, and you can feel him trying to get you off him when he tries to pull your face away from his lap. 

“Baby, you gotta–” 

But you don’t even let him finish that thought when you grip his thigh with your other hand, sucking his head that gets him keening again.

“Shit, shit, shit __ I’m going to– f-fuuuck,”

Jungkook shoots his hot cum in your mouth, and you didn’t really expect it to be so… much. The first wave felt heavy, but as his thighs spasm, his dick continues to squirt some more, and you open your mouth to catch them all. 

“Fuck.” 

You pull back with a wet pop, opening your eyes to meet Jungkook’s stare. Your fingers are still around his length when you lick around your lips, noting the way his eyes darken at the sight of you in front of him like this – kneeling in between his legs and licking his cum. 

His chest heaves up and down, and he looks like he was about to say something when you suddenly slack your jaw to present your mouth to him – your mouth that’s now painted white with his cum. He watches you carefully as you close your eyes and swallow.

“Jesus.” 

“Didn’t know you were religious like that.” you say as soon as everything’s gone in your mouth, giving him a cheeky smile. It’s a bit salty, not terrible, though you kind of expected that.

When you look at Jungkook, his mouth opens and closes like fish in water. You beat him to it when you rise, crawling up on his chest to press your lips to his. 

You realize he might be one of those guys who didn't like it very much when their partners kissed them on the mouth right after giving them a blowjob – but Jungkook only slides his arm around your waist, deepening the kiss, dipping his tongue in your mouth until you’re settled on his lap again. 

“You’re a fucking dream.” Jungkook says before kissing you again. 

You giggle in his mouth, pushing him away slightly. His eyebrows knit in confusion, but he doesn't really look like he’s processing anything. 

“You know I realized something about you,” you plant a sweet kiss on the side of his lips. “You don’t cuss at all, but you do it a lot during sex.” 

Jungkook’s expression contorts into a frown, as if that was news to him. “Do I?” 

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that–” then as if cutting off his own thoughts, he dives in for a kiss again. He pulls away for a second, caressing your cheek and thumbing your jaw before staring at you. “God, you’re gorgeous. Pretty girl.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I think my brain’s broken right now. I don’t have coherent thoughts.” 

That makes you laugh. You pat his chest and notice the way Jungkook reluctantly lets you get off his lap, watching with hooded eyes as you rise to your feet. 

“Well, I’ll have to get going. It’s—” you glance at the wall clock. “almost 12.”

Jungkook takes your wrist, and you have to be very brave to not look at his lap because he still hasn’t pulled up his pants yet and his dick is still very much on display. And you weren’t really kidding about having to go because you do have an early day tomorrow. 

“Do you really have to go?” 

You pout. “I have to.” 

He sighs as if that disappointed him. “Okay… let me walk you out.” 

Jungkook – finally – pulls his pants up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother putting on his shirt, though, and you don’t comment on it, figuring he’d stay inside anyway.

But when you see him slipping into his slides to follow you out, you press a hand lightly to his bare abdomen and laugh. “Hey, it’s literally, like five steps away. Go back inside.”

He pauses, brows furrowing in slight confusion before glancing down at himself. “Let me just grab my shirt, then—”

That makes you giggle. “Brain still broken?” 

“I think so…” he trails off then looks at you. “Hey, come here,” he doesn’t wait for you to do so though, just reaches for you to pull you by the waist, pressing you close to him. He leans down and gives you a slow kiss. You could actually feel air being taken away from you when he pulls away, his smile as gentle as the hand that rubs your back. “Thank you, and good night. See you tomorrow?” 

You nod, feeling your cheeks flush. 

“Okay. Night. And see you tomorrow.” 

With a small wave, you turn toward your apartment, not daring to glance back as you head to the door. But you can feel his gaze on you, watching as you slip inside. 

It felt like Jungkook wanted you to stay longer…

But the ache in between your thighs was starting to get uncomfortable, and honestly, you really needed to change your pad. 

Because the wetness there? Yeah, it definitely wasn’t just your period.

“So… is my laptop dying or…?” 

“For the third time; no, your laptop is not dying,” Jungkook gives you a playful shake of his head. “It’s just laggy because you watch a lot of porn on it and you turned off your antivirus for some reason.” 

You gasp. A dramatic one. 

You give Jungkook a scandalous look before sitting down on the couch with him, peeking over what he’s doing on your device. Frankly, you don’t like it when people touch your things – especially your gadgets – because you had a lot of private stuff in them. But thirty minutes ago, your laptop randomly shut down while you had been doing some excel spreadsheets. In a weird coincidence, Jungkook called you the same time it happened. So you told him about it, and he offered to swing by and take a look. He was a tech guy, after all… and anyway, getting it fixed at some shop would have been expensive. 

“I don’t watch porn!” you protest, glaring at him. 

Jungkook just blinks at you, looking unconvinced. Then he shrugs. “Okay.” 

“And what do you mean antivirus? I don’t even know I have one,” you mumble, placing the bowl of freshly cut watermelon on the coffee table. You fold your legs underneath you and inch closer to see what he’s actually doing. He’s been at it for a few minutes now, but all you see are lines of text and windows you can’t even pretend to understand.

“Yes, you do. And you did turn it off,” he says, gesturing at the screen. It’s full of stuff that might as well be in a foreign language. “These are malware. See this? Classic spyware script. You probably clicked on one of those fake play buttons with a hot singles ad or something.”

You give him a baleful look. He snorts.

“You’re not funny. And I watch porn on twitter like a normal person– okay sometimes maybe I do watch on shady websites but why do you even know that? And why are you interested in my porn.” 

“You watch porn on twitter?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Hm. Interesting,” he nods and turns to the screen again. “Well, I wanna know what you like.” 

You almost fall off the sofa. “Like you want me to give you a list of porn accounts?” 

Jungkook actually laughs at that. “What? No. I mean, I'm interested in the porn you like.” 

Oh.

“Uhm, I don’t particularly like anything,” you say, although maybe you immediately think of those videos where the woman is on the guy’s lap and he fingers her hard in front of the camera – but other than that, not really. You aren’t some freakazoid about porn. Most of the time, you were fine getting off with pure imagination. “I don’t like BDSM though, I think.” 

Jungkook nods, but his eyes are not really on you and instead focused on your laptop as he does things. “Hmm.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. “What do you mean, hmm?” 

Jungkook meets your stare. “What?” 

You study his face, narrowing your eyes. But he just looks at you in confusion, although there’s a little smile tugging at his lips. You drop it anyway, reaching for the watermelon cuts on the coffee table and start eating them as you watch whatever magic Jungkook is doing on your device.

“Anyway, I pirate a lot of movies so there’s that.” You thought that would be helpful to share. Those sites do have a lot of those pop-up ads, and you’d really rather endure that than have some big fuckass streaming corporation steal from you every month. 

“I know, I’m just teasing about the porn websites,” Jungkook chuckles when you glare at him. “I could share my streaming accounts with you. I think I have everything.” 

Your eyes light up almost instantly, but then you manage to catch yourself. 

“Uh, no, you don’t really need to do that…” 

He hums, goes back to your laptop. You don’t think about it too much when you pick up a watermelon and hover it over his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to eat it off your finger, and you don’t  expect the way he sucks the juices off, tongue swirling around your digit while looking into your eyes. It feels like the whole moment took a minute, but in reality it was really only a few seconds, and Jungkook’s back to doing his thing on your laptop. 

Oh. 

Oh… okay. Well. 

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you drop your hand to your side, absentmindedly eating your watermelon bites.

Ugh. When will your period end?! Given, it’s only really day two, and you probably have two or three more days to go but ugh… 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jungkook suddenly speaks, rising to his feet. 

“All done. I installed a better antivirus, and I logged in my streaming accounts so you don’t get malware again. Also turned off some useless background programs because you had too many running– and I recovered your excel file,” he says, and you give him a grateful smile as you take your laptop and bring it to your chest like it’s your baby. Jungkook chuckles at the sight. “I have to go to the toilet, though. Want to order in and watch something when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure! Toilet’s over there,” you point to the far right direction of the apartment and watch Jungkook disappear into view to enter the bathroom. 

You’re hacking away on your laptop when a phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. 

Jungkook’s phone. 

You hesitate. You don’t want to knock on the bathroom door just to hand it to him, but you don’t feel right ignoring it either. 

The buzzing stops, and you feel relieved for all of one second when it suddenly starts again. 

You lean slightly over – not really reaching, just peeking – to see who it is. What if it’s work? What if it’s important? You could tell him about it when he comes back… 

The screen lights up with a name: Dad.

You gasp. Just a little.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you and you straighten up like you weren’t doing anything. Jungkook walks out, toweling his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, hey, someone's calling you.” 

He gives you a curious look before he crosses the room. You try not to watch too closely as he picks up his phone, but you see it; the way his brows knit together, the way his stance and tone shift when he looks back at you. 

“I need to take this real quick” He gestures to the phone. You nod.

He walks far enough that you can’t really make out the conversation, but when you take a peek to look at him, he looks so serious. You’ve only ever seen serious Jungkook when he was at work. 

A few seconds later, he returns – apologetic eyes, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, I got called into work just now. I’m sorry we can’t have dinner tonight.” 

Oh, so you were right! It was a work thing. Still… you wonder why his dad was the one calling.

“No, it’s fine! It must be super important,” you say quickly. “Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow instead?” You say, smiling up at him brightly. 

Jungkook breaks into a smile. Then, out of nowhere, he steps closer and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. 

You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Kissing, that is. Just this morning, he drove you to work and you made out before he even started the engine. Then later. After parking, his hands wandered a little too much before you swatted him off, gently reminding him that your breasts were feeling tender from your period.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Then just like that, Jungkook makes his way out of the apartment, and you don’t even know that you’ve been smiling like crazy until the black screen of your laptop catches your silly expression. 

You miss Jungkook. 

Okay— well. It’s just been two days, really. Well, more like today is day two. So it’s actually just been a full day. But there were no texts yesterday, and there were certainly no calls either. You haven’t seen him come out of his apartment, and you hate that you’re starting to worry. 

You were debating whether to send him a message or not when suddenly, your doorbell rings. You weren’t expecting any visitors, especially not today when it was still so early in the morning and you have to go to work soon! But maybe it was your landlord, complaining about something again…

You groan at that, snatching your bag from the counter, planning to head straight to work after dealing with whoever it is. You slide your shoes on, ready for that condescending landlord tone only to freeze when you open the door.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, acting like you’ve just seen a ghost. And he seems to think so as well, cocking his head to the side at the unusual greeting. “You’re here.” you blurt out. 

“Yeah, I went back to my place last night but only for awhile. We launched a system yesterday and something broke in production. QA didn’t catch it, so now we had to roll it—” as if he thought he was sparing you with some boring talk, he cuts himself off and smiles at you instead. “I had to work overtime. I’m sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“Eh, don’t worry. It’s not that serious. I know you're extra busy these days. Anyway, are you on the way to work?” Jungkook nods. “We should go together, then.” 

“I was just going to say that.” 

You step out of your apartment, and Jungkook waits for you to lock up before you both walk side by side down the stairs. You don’t know why but somehow, having seen him today and walking with him to his car where you’re gonna be riding in together to go to work was giving you a sense of contentment that you missed yesterday. Okay, so maybe this was a thing that was starting to grow on you. And maybe being with Jungkook genuinely makes you feel happy – giddy, for the most part. But it felt silly to have missed him when it was only really a day…

But you didn’t really want to dwell on that. It wasn’t Jungkook’s obligation to drive you to work everyday, and you certainly aren’t entitled to his undivided attention when you know exactly just how hectic his work schedule is. You couldn’t ask him to make time for you, even though you would like that.

“Oh!” Jungkook startles beside you when you suddenly halt. You look at him, wide-eyed. “Jungkook, it’s September first today!” 

Jungkook checks his phone, brows furrowed. “Yes…?” 

You eye him incredulously. “It’s your birthday!” 

At first, the words didn’t seem to register, but Jungkook slowly nods. “Ah yeah, it’s my birthday today.”

“Why do you sound so unexcited?” You pout. 

He chuckles, stepping closer to brush away a stray of hair you hadn’t even noticed had fallen across your face.

“Baby, it’s just another day.” 

You feeze at the word. It’s the first time he called you that outside of you two… fooling around. It slips naturally from his mouth in that situation, but hearing it in this very non-sexual context was kind of throwing you off-balance – because this moment wasn’t supposed to feel intimate. Not like that, anyway.

Looking away, you say, “Still. You should do something to celebrate. Oh! I think… oh…” your eyes widen at the thought of throwing him a mini-party tonight. Obviously, Jungkook doesn't make a big deal of his birthdays, based on his response. But you thought about baking him a cake. And cookies! He liked the cookies you made last time! And you were practicing cakes these days so maybe it’d be nice to make him a small one. You turn to him with hopeful eyes. “Are you free tonight?” 

Jungkook hesitates, but he smiles down at you. “Yeah, I’m free tonight. Why?” 

You grin. “You’ll have to come to my place to find out! Oh, it’s gonna be fun. Ugh, I wish we can invite Jimin…”   

You’re honestly proud of yourself for not breaking down when the piping tip you bought turns out to be the wrong one. The blue icing on your apron now looks like abstract art, and there’s enough sugar on your kitchen floor to summon an army of rants.

You just wanted the cake to be perfect. The cookies already were – but the cake, maybe not so much. And it was fine! It tasted fine! But the decorating sucked and at this point you just kind of wish Jungkook would look past the awkward lettering and appreciate the effort behind all these. 

You didn’t have much time. He texted you after work that he couldn’t drive you home. He had to stay late, which actually worked out because it gave you the extra time you needed to prepare. 

Although for the record, this wasn’t even a real surprise. You just made baked goods. And you cooked some food. And by cook you scratched off the chicken shop’s label and put it in the microwave to heat it up by the time you finished cleaning up your place since Jungkook was gonna be here by 11pm. 

Which is why, at 10:40, you rush to the shower.

When you’re done, you step in front of the mirror to check yourself out. You’ve rummaged through your closet and found an old lingerie you don’t remember ever putting on. You remember it as one of those “feel-good” purchases awhile ago. 

It’s nothing special, really. Just your usual black lace two-piece. The bra’s light and sheer, made of floral lace with thin straps that sat neatly on your shoulders. There are little pink bows too on them, which kind of made it cute. It didn’t offer much coverage, what with your nipples poking through the fabric – but that seemed to be the point. Meanwhile the panties are just as bold; crotchless, cut daringly open in the center, but softened by the same delicate lace. The set originally had garter straps and thigh-high stockings, but you thought that would be an overkill so you opted out of it. 

You cover it up with a casual white dress, spritzing on the La Belle perfume Jungkook always seems to like a little too much. 

There, everything’s done. Your period’s gone too, obviously, (day four, thank god) almost as if it knew not to ruin this night for you. 

When you head out of your bedroom, you pick your phone up from the kitchen counter to dial Jungkook’s phone. 

He usually answers on the first or second ring, but this time, he doesn’t. Wasn’t unusual or anything, given how busy he is… but you do frown when the ringing ends and there’s nothing that comes next but his voicemail.

Your frown deepens. You shift from one foot to the other, glancing at the clock. It’s past eleven now. Fifteen minutes past, to be exact. 

Jungkook’s not usually late to things.

You sigh, trudging to one of the chairs in the dining area where you prepared the food and cake for him. You also bought wine and lit up a candle.

You stare at your phone for a solid minute before you pick it up again, deciding to send Jungkook a text. 

You [11:16pm]: hey!! are you running late :> 

You chose to add the emoticon in the end so the text doesn’t feel too mysterious or broody or serious. Really, you aren’t mad, maybe a little upset now – but maybe Jungkook’s just in the middle of something… what was that again? Someone breaking in production, whatever that meant…

But the clock turns 11:25, and there is still no sign of Jungkook on your phone – and even more so on your door. 

You [11:25pm]: are you busy? sorry if im bothering you! 

Then on second thought, you added:

You [11:26pm]: oh no pls dont tell me you forgot.. 🙁

Maybe he did forget. You hadn’t reminded him of it when you talked earlier. Did you have to? He said he was free tonight, so you kind of assumed… 

You sigh again. 

The chicken was turning cold and so was the other food on the table. 

You pick up a cookie to nibble on it, thinking of why Jungkook would forget. Or why he wouldn’t text you back or return your call. 

At eleven thirty, you stand up from your seat, suddenly feeling so… so silly. Silly about the food. Silly about the cake. Silly about your dress. And most especially, you feel silly about the lingerie that’s hidden underneath. 

How silly. To plan all these in expectation of what… Jungkook’s company? 

But it was his birthday. And you wanted to throw him a party, thought it would mean something to him, even though it’s not that much. But you did go through a lot of trouble to put this all out… but he also didn’t ask you either. So really, you have no right to feel upset over him not making good on his promise. 

Wait, did he promise anything though? No, he didn’t. Not really. He just said he was free tonight. No promises. Maybe his schedule changed again and he needed to work overtime. 

You start putting away the food in the fridge, not even having the energy to eat something for dinner. You go back to your room, stripping yourself off and changing into some comfortable pajamas before throwing yourself on the bed. 

Still no texts.

It’s 11:42pm when it comes. 

You hate how fast your body reaches for your phone to see who it was, lighting up when you see Jungkook (Unit 446) on the caller ID, even more so when you answer it. 

“Hey, I got your texts. I’m so sorry, __—”

“It’s fine!” you nibble on your bottom lip as you try to contain your excitement. “Are you coming soon?” 

“I– no, ba—” you flinch involuntarily when you hear him cut himself off. You were so sure he was going to call you baby, but he corrected himself quickly. “You remember the thing I mentioned this morning? The rollback didn’t go as planned. I’m working overtime tonight again so I can’t really go…” 

“Oh…” 

“Did you plan something? It’s just my birthday, __. Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the line, and for the first time it didn’t make you feel giddy or whatever. 

You pick on the bed sheet before answering. “Uh, no. It’s not anything big, actually. I just made you some cookies. And ordered some food. But anyway I just ate dinner first because you took so long,” the lie rolls off your tongue easier than you expected. His laugh made you feel shitty. You know he didn’t mean anything by it – but it just made you feel so… so unimportant.

And suddenly, you want to downplay the whole thing. Because clearly, he thinks it’s no big deal.

“Hey, are you upset?” His tone shifts — gentler now.

“Ah, no. Sorry. I’m so tired and sleepy,” you fake a yawn and snuggle on the bed. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re here?” 

Tomorrow is now your least favorite word. You’ve heard it too many times from him lately. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Then you hear him sigh. 

“I’m sorry again, I swear I’ll make it up to you.” 

“No need to!” you tell him, making sure to say that as cheerfully as possible. Jungkook doesn’t need to. It’s not like you were dating or something for you to be upset over him bailing on you. “Really, it’s fine. Hey, I’m really, really sleepy now. Good night?” 

“Okay, sorry. Sleep well, __. Tomorrow, okay?” 

You hum, not sure if you believe that. Maybe tomorrow he’s going to have to do overtime again. Maybe tomorrow he won’t be here again.

Whatever. 

It wasn’t a big deal. 

You end the call, but before you can drop your phone onto the nightstand, you type out one last message.

You [11:45pm]: happy birthday! 

You didn’t get much sleep last night. Not like your body clock has ever been particularly reliable, 

This morning, you didn’t really think that much about it when you put the cake in a container and dropped it off at Jungkook’s door on your way down the stairs. You figured you could’ve eaten it, but you made it for him and anyway… it was his birthday and you still think he deserves a cake. He didn’t exactly seem like he was celebrating last night.

You took the bus to work. Nothing unusual, nothing exciting. Just another day dragging your limbs through the same monotonous rhythm. Your brain feels like it’s moving on autopilot by the time you tap your company ID at the building entrance and wait in line for the elevator. 

Slipping inside, you wedge yourself into a spare corner, arms crossed as the lift fills and empties floor by floor. Eventually, it’s just you and one other woman left. She steps out when the elevator dings, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she barks something stressed into the line.

Instinctively, you lean forward and press the hold button, stepping onto the side when you take notice of someone going in, only to realize it was Jungkook. 

It’s funny, really. Somehow, he only ever seems to appear when he’s the last person you’re ready to see. 

“Oh– good morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, dipping your head in a polite little nod. The words sound awkward even to your own ears, stiff. You’ve never had to think about how to interact with him in the workplace.

Judging by the slight flicker on Jungkook’s face, he thinks it sounds weird too. But he recovers quickly, offering a faint smile as he steps in. 

You return his smile, just as polite, and inch a little further to the side – so far that your back nearly presses to the elevator wall, creating an unnecessary gap between you.

The silence is noticeable. Tense, but it’s civil at least. You glance at the floor numbers blinking overhead, half-hoping this ride doesn’t last long.

Then Jungkook shifts in your periphery. 

“Hey, about last night—”

The elevator dings. 

It’s your floor.

You step out quickly, almost too quickly, heart tapping a little faster than it should.

You don’t look back.

You didn’t expect to get a text from Jungkook that night. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [9:37pm]: Do you wanna drive home together? 

You made a mental note to give him a reply but it’s thirty minutes later that you remembered about it.

You [10:11pm]: hey sorry I just got home

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Okay Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Please come over tonight? I’m cooking 

You [10:16pm]: i'm not sure if I can You [10:17pm]: i’ll try to. I brought home some work :/

He doesn’t give a reply after that.

And maybe that – weirdly – made you irritated. He’d texted first, and he’d asked you over. You gave a soft no, not even a hard one, and he didn’t even try again? Just left it like that?

You sigh and close the lid of your laptop. For once, you hadn’t lied about being busy with work. It was just a few reports you figured you could finish now to make tomorrow lighter and easier. It was nothing really urgent. 

But you do feel sort of guilty about it.

Your door buzzes, and you have second thoughts whether or not you ordered dinner. 

When you open the door, it felt like deja vu.

“Jungkook.” you say, blinking.

“Are you still working?” He’s in his work clothes, though the sleeves of his button-up are slightly rolled now. It looks like he just got home not long ago.

You glance at the laptop on the coffee table. “No, I just finished…” 

“Okay, then I have a question,” Jungkook steps inside, and you unconsciously take a step back at that, looking at him curiously. He watches you carefully. “Are we okay?”

Caught off guard, you stammer when you say, “I– yeah! Sure, why wouldn’t we be?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a beat, then, “You seemed a little off this morning. I thought maybe it was about last night.” 

You try to wave it off, suddenly nervous about Jungkook being so straight-forward. Usually, men were so emotionally stunted as you are and never faced their problems head-on.

“No, I mean, it’s fine. You were probably so busy. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“But it did kind of matter.” 

You exhale, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe I was a little upset. But it’s not like I’m mad mad.” 

“I figured,” Jungkook says, voice soft. “And I get it if you don’t want to hang out tonight, but I still wanted to try. I know I’ve flaked twice now, but I meant what I said, about making it up to you.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “With food?”

He smiles faintly. “With food. Amongst other things.” 

That earns a chuckle from you. You’re not over it – unfortunately – but something about the way he’s standing there, almost cautious, makes it hard to keep your walls all the way up. 

“So,” he asks gently. “Will you come?”

Taking a deep breath, you unintentionally look down at your socks. 

“Only if there’s wine…” you say softly. 

Jungkook’s smile spreads. “There’s wine.” 

You sigh and start toeing your slippers off. “If it’s terrible, I’m leaving in five minutes.” 

“I can live with that.” 

Inside Jungkook’s place, the lights are unusually dim, the apartment warm with the scent of garlic and something buttery. A jazz record plays at the far corner, and you only noticed then that Jungkook owned a vinyl player – which you kind of didn’t expect – you sort of pegged him as the type to not have time to listen to music. 

Meanwhile, he goes straight to the kitchen counter, where you watch him by the stove, plating food like a professional. You realized he had been cooking, and that’s why his tie was a little loose and his hair kind of a muss. 

You don’t really know what to say, so you try to break the silence with, “Uhm, wow.” 

Jungkook glances at you, mouth lifting at the corner. “I try sometimes.” 

The obvious faux humility makes you laugh. You know exactly that he knows you’re impressed by the whole thing. 

And you haven’t even eaten his food yet.

Walking in slowly to the dining area, your eyes skim over the table where there are real wine glasses, cloth napkins, and a lit candle.

“So what’s the occasion?” You ask, sitting on the chair, watching Jungkook as he heads towards your direction, bringing in the food he was preparing. You smile up at him. “Guilt?” 

He chuckles under his breath, and you’re almost glad that the joke lands.

“Maybe. Also I figured you deserve a proper dinner, made by me. Since someone went out of their way to make me one.”

You hum. “Can’t believe you stood me up on your own birthday.” 

He brings the plates over and sits across from you. “I cooked,” he says. “Try it before you decide if I’m forgiven.” 

You eye the food, a little surprise at how he mustered up a risotto with seared scallops, and of course perfectly plated. Like he’s just so good at everything he does… wait, did Jungkook go to culinary school? You’re starting to think that.

“You know how to make risotto?” 

“I know how to do a lot of things,” he meets her gaze.

Yeah, you know that was a hundred percent true…

You take a bite, careful not to let any expression slip while Jungkook watches closely, not really digging in on his own plate.

And as expected, the risotto’s annoyingly good. You didn’t doubt it from Jungkook, though. Being good at cooking was just one of the many qualities that made him so… so whatever. 

“Okay, fine. I’m mildly impressed,” you comment, sipping on the wine to hide the small smile tugging at your mouth. Your very expression contradicts your words, and you know Jungkook can see through you.

He leans back in his chair, obviously satisfied. “Mildly?”

“You still missed your birthday dinner. That knocks off some points.”

He gives you a small smile. “I really didn’t expect it to be a birthday dinner, baby.” 

You shrug off the nickname by having more bites of the risotto. You wonder if Jungkook was being deliberate when he said that, or if it was just going to be a thing between you now. 

“You didn’t ask… and well, I was going to surprise you.” Now you pout at the memories of last night again. “There was chicken.” 

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. “You cooked?”

You eye him. “Yeah, I scratched the tapes off the takeout boxes and put it in the microwave.” Jungkook laughs, the crinkles on the sides of his eyes showing. It makes you smile to see him like that. “Well,” you say eventually, “you’ve redeemed yourself a little.” 

Jungkook leans in again, riding along, “Only a little?” 

“We’ll see if there’s dessert.” 

Jungkook smirks, and you both continue to eat. 

After awhile, he glances at you. “You’re not mad,” he says, as if treading softly. “But… you were disappointed, right?” 

You shake your head. “No. I just—” You see Jungkook raising a brow. “I just thought it’d be nice. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, it was your birthday! Now I feel bad ‘cause it’s like I’m making this all about me.” you chuckle at the realization.

You look at Jungkook when you realize he’s not really laughing with you. 

You flinch a little when his hand reaches out to yours. His thumb caresses your knuckles as he tells you softly, “Hey, I know it would’ve been nice. I’m really sorry I missed it.” 

“It’s fine…” it’s a good thing Jungkook lets go immediately.

But you find yourself wanting to share with him that you baked him a cake too. About the lingerie… but that felt stupid now. Wait, did he even get the cake you left at his porch this morning? 

As if he read your mind, Jungkook suddenly rises up from his chair.

“Wait a second,” he walks past you, disappearing into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and comes back into view with a single slice of cake.

Your cake. The one you made for him. 

You stare. “Is that—?”

“You left it outside my door this morning,” he says, placing it on the table. You blink up at him, mouth slightly open. “I thought I’d save it, you know? In case you ever stopped pretending you didn’t care.” 

It felt a little pointed, but with the smile on his face you’re not really sure. 

“You really don’t play fair.” 

“Not trying to.” he says simply with a small smile before sitting again. 

“So. Is this your apology routine? Fancy dinner, smooth jazz, and then hoping I forget you bailed?” 

He smiles into his own glass of wine. “If I wanted you to forget, I wouldn’t have brought out the cake.”

You raise a brow. “You brought that out to make a point.” 

“I did.”

“You’re kind of smug about it.”

“I’m good at making points,” he says, “Especially when someone keeps insisting nothing’s wrong.” 

You frown, somehow not really liking the confirmation that he does think you’re making a big deal about this. 

“I said I was fine.” 

“You keep saying that,” his voice is quieter now, but a little edged. “But you’ve been smiling like it’s your job since you got here. And I know it’s not real.” 

You recoil at that, not expecting to be called out. The sudden shift of the atmosphere is palpable as you lean back on the couch. 

“What do you want me to say?” you let out a humorless chuckle. “That I was upset? You hurt my feelings?” 

Jungkook’s expression changes, but his voice doesn’t falter. “I wanna know how you feel.” 

You look away. “Do you want me to admit that maybe I cared more than I should?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“But you mean it.”

He leans forward, "I mean,” he starts, “that it wasn’t nothing. You made me dinner. You planned something for me. That’s not small. And I want you to know that I want to apologize when I make these mistakes.” 

You don’t really think it through when you say, “It’s not like we’re together, Jungkook.” 

That makes him pause. You can’t find it in you to take it back, because… it was true, right? The whole thing felt like… like you were a couple in a fight. And you aren’t.

“Still not an excuse.” he says after awhile. 

You let out a breath, almost a laugh, frustrated. You wish Jungkook hadn’t brought it up, and you wish you aren’t reacting the way you are right now.

“You know, you didn’t seem bothered about it when we talked on the phone.” 

“Because I thought you were okay.”

“Well, surprise,” you flash him a tight smile. “Turns out I’m not as chill as I thought.” 

His voice lowers. “I never thought you were chill.” You can’t help but glance at him sharply. “I thought you were trying really hard to seem like you didn’t care, because maybe you thought I might not care back.”

That lands harder than it should, and you feel your throat tighten.

“I should go,” you stand up, not wanting to have any more of this conversation. You wish Jungkook would just drop it. You told him, you were upset – but he’s making a big deal about it. 

Jungkook stands up too, stepping closer to you. His height looms over you, but his presence feels calm and collected. 

“You could,” he says in that deep voice. “But you won’t.” 

You take in a sharp breath when he presses until you can feel the heat of his body. You’re confused about the sudden turn of events, but there’s something about Jungkook right now, his voice dropping low, his gaze… almost as if…

“Oh?” you decide to challenge him, not wanting to waver.

“You stayed. And now you’re standing this close,” he says, gaze dropping to your mouth. “Looking like you want me to make you forget why you were upset in the first place.” 

You swallow, suddenly feeling heated in that other way. 

“A-and if I do?” 

One hand brushes past your hip, and you stand there grounded, unconsciously holding your breath. 

“Then you let me.” 

You kiss him first – not really sure why and how it happened – but you do, on instinct. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. It’s fast, and there’s frustration from you bubbling under, heat blooming behind your ribs like a fuse finally lit. 

Jungkook kisses you back harder though, catching you on time – always catching you on time – walking you backwards into the living room where he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you.

His voice is rough against your skin when he breaks away to whisper, “Are you still upset?” 

Your hands grip his shirt. “I would be if you don’t continue kissing me.” 

That makes him smile, murmuring, “You’re a brat.” 

“Do you like it?” 

He inhales a sharp breath against your jaw, nipping. “I really do.” 

In an instant, his hands were around your waist, your back pressed against the back of the sofa. Your breath hitches when his mouth drops to your ear, making your knees weaken slightly.

“Do you– do you kiss everyone you disappoint like this?” you mutter, hands sliding under his shirt where you feel his abs clench.

“No,” he says, lips peppering kisses down your neck, voice low. It sends shivers down your spine and makes your thighs clench together. “Just the ones who microwave chicken for me.”

It earns a chuckle from you – sharp, breathless – and tug the collar of his shirt, starting to undo his buttons until sculpted chest is revealed. You’re about to pull the material off him when Jungkook catches your wrist.

“Still upset?” he asks.

You click your tongue. “Maybe.” 

He grins. “Good.” 

He kisses you again. Slow this time, like he knows you’d let him now. And you do. Your fingers dig into his shoulder as he deepens it, tongue brushing yours in a way that makes your head fog over. He tastes like wine and smugness… but you find you like it. Jungkook moves in such a way that screams he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

His shirt is off in a second, leaving him in his slacks and belt, mouth moving lower over your throat, your collarbone, until they reach your cleavage made easily accessible with the neckline of your camisole. You arch into the touch without much thinking, and when Jungkook whispers against the peak of your nipple if he could take your shirt off, you nod. 

“Sorry, this isn’t my proudest bra ever,” you tell him, fingers slipping through his hair. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I’m gonna take it off, anyway.” 

He lifts you up effortlessly, squeezing your ass as you yelp but helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Before you can say anything, he shuts up with a searing hot kiss, and you let him carry you to the bedroom with ginger steps, like he’d done it a hundred times before in his head. God, you hope he did just like you do. 

You don’t know how exactly it happened but your bra is off the moment he lowers you down on the bed, tugging the cups off your chest and letting his hand take reign on one boob while he licks the other one with his hot tongue, swirling it around your nipple that makes you gasp and shift on the bed. 

“Oh, Jungkook…”

Crawling over you, you meet his heavy gaze as he asks, “Are you sure about this?” 

If the heat in between your thighs is any more indication of how sure you are, he can check. But you tug him down by the waistband of his slacks to tell him, “I’ve been sure.” 

“Just checking, because once we start…” he murmurs, gaze dropping on your lips. As if he can’t help it, he closes his mouth around yours. Then his hand slides down, feathery touch causing goosebumps all over your skin. It stops on your inner thigh where you take a sharp breath because he was so close to where you wanted him to be. 

“I want you now,” you say, a bit irritated. 

He chuckles, dark. Low. He retracts his hand and smirks when you give him a glare. 

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. Don’t rush me.” 

To prove his point, he kisses you again – hot and passionate, but also aguishly slow like he’s savoring every brush of your tongue and he has all the time in the world for it. 

You’re flushed beneath him, breathless as his hands wander all over your body. He nips the skin of your neck, obviously teasing, leaving goosebumps on his trail. When his hand cups the heat in between your legs, your hips unconsciously buck, your grip on his shoulders tightening at the contact. 

“I should’ve come to dinner,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“Y-yeah,” you manage, “you should’ve.” 

“I can’t believe I missed this yesterday.”

You gasp when his thumb presses on your mound, feeling like you’ve been electrocuted by the touch. Jungkook seems to take note of your oversensitivity, as he watches you with your mouth hanging slightly open.  

“Don’t worry, baby. I plan to make it up to you real good,” he leans back for a second to tug the waistband of your pants, and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself up a little to help him slide it off your legs together with your panties. You bite your bottom lip as you observe him watching the way the material clings to your pussy at the slickness. A smirk tugs at his lips. “I guess I’ve made you wait too long, didn’t I?” 

Your reply dissolves into a sharp inhale as he puts two of his fingers in his mouth and wedges them in between your folds, leaning down to plant a kiss on your parted mouth. His fingers move inside you, curling in slow rhythm, his thumb teasing just enough to keep your hips lifting off the bed.

“You’re so soaked, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he slowly slides them out, smirking when you whimper at the loss of contact. He inserts them again, this time taking on a steady pace. His fingers make you feel so full, just like they did back at the motel – and you wouldn’t dare lie to yourself and say you haven’t been looking forward to this again. By the way you can’t keep the soft moans escaping past your lips, Jungkook must’ve known too. 

Slick sounds bounce off the wall, and you try to keep it to a minimum by minimizing your moans and pressing the back of your hand to your mouth but Jungkook catches your wrist quickly, as if he knew what you were about to do.

“No, baby, let me hear you,” he says, pinning your hand up against the headboard. “I want to know how much you want this, how much you like my fingers fitting right in your pussy,” he looks down, then unexpectedly, he brings his soaked digits up to your face. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment when you see how wet they are with your juices, whimpering when he inserts them in his mouth with no second thoughts, licking them obscenely. You whimper when he shuts his eyes close, looking intoxicated. 

“Shit,” he hisses, “Tastes just as good as I remember it.” 

“J-jungkook,” you whine, wanting him to do something already. 

“I know,” he smirks, a little smug. “Should I go faster? Is that what you like?” 

“Please…” you cry out, holding on to his wrist.

He chuckles darkly and just as when you were about to say something else again, he curls the same fingers in you, but this time he plunges them in and out at a faster pace. At that, you don’t hold back the moans you’ve been keeping trapped in your throat. 

Legs tensing, Jungkook continues to fuck you with his fingers, moving like an expert; determined to make you fall apart – and you’re nothing but soft cries, heated, fingers tightening around his wrist as your orgasm creeps up your toes to your spine. 

“F-fuck…” you sigh when Jungkook dives in your chest again, nipping and sucking at the flesh you were sure he was going to leave marks. “Feels so good, Koo…” 

He hums against your skin, curling his fingers and digging in deep that your thighs shake uncontrollably. But Jungkook’s hold on your hip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from thrashing underneath him at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Yeah? You’re making such a mess on my hand, baby,” he husks out.

“S-sorry.”

He chuckles. “You’re beautiful,” He breaks away from your tits to stare at you. Moving away some of the hair that has gotten on your face, he says, “Are you close?” 

“Yes, god, yes. Please, I’m so close…” 

You can feel yourself about to reach your climax, so you move your hand to seek relief to your clit. But Jungkook catches you off-guard when he moves further down your body. You let out a lewd moan when he licks along your slit, sucking in your folds – your juices making a wet, spongy sound as he slurps. When he closes his mouth around your clit, you cry out and grab his hair quite harshly. 

But Jungkook only hums against your pussy, the vibration only making you drip more. He ravishes your nub with his tongue, quick and steady, and so are his fingers in and out of your pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, body convulsing at your impending orgasm, shutting your eyes close and focusing on the way his tongue tugs at your clit. “Kook, I’m coming, fuck, I’m gonna cum—” 

He pulls off with a smack only to tell you “in my mouth” before going back to business again. You listen to his small grunts, his hums, and until then, you feel your body spasming when the coil at your stomach breaks.  

Jungkook puts his hand on your lower stomach, pressing you down as you wriggle underneath him, thighs shaking at your orgasm. He licks until you’re pulling his head out of your mound. He takes his fingers out of your spongy walls, spreading your wetness instead around your folds, as if calming you down from your high.

“Good, baby, good…” he murmurs, gripping your thighs to steady you. Then he leans down and presses kisses over them.

You let your back relax on the mattress, shutting your eyes close and catching your breath.

You hear a drawer pull open, and when you finally open your eyes, you see Jungkook with a condom pinched in between his fingers.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Jungkook skates his fingers through his hair, and you suddenly got the urge to jump him right then and there when you saw the sheer wetness on his jaw, his sculpted chest and the abdominal muscles that sit perfectly on his stomach, his tattoo sleeve – he looked like an absolute dream then, but you knew you were in for a ride when your eyes cast a look at the erection inside his slacks. Jungkook makes quick work of unbuckling his leather belt, and the way the metal clink with each other scratches a part of your brain that screams want, want, want and maybe Jungkook caught on, because he follows your gaze to the belt, clicking his tongue when he throws the leather away somewhere on the floor.

“Next time, sweet girl,” he says, sounding like he meant it. You can feel your cheeks heating under his gaze and the implication of his words, chest pounding as he unbuttons and unzips his pants together with his boxers. 

“I…” You watch in quiet fascination when his rock hard dick slaps against his lower abdomen, biting your lip at the sight. It was just as long and girthy as you remember it.

He hums. “You want to play next time, we’ll do that. But eyes up here first,” Jungkook instructs, and you do look at him when he says so, feeling your legs clamping together at his slightly commanding tone. He tugs your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, and so you lift off the mattress slightly and rest your elbows against the soft sheets. Jungkook smiles at you as he kneels between your spread legs, “You look beautiful like this, baby. Do you know how much I’ve been wanting to do this?” he asks as he rips open the condom, pinching the tip and putting it over his cock in quick succession. 

“I’ve been waiting for you…” you say, not really sure what you mean, touching his chest because you can. He’s so warm and so big, and your pussy aches at the thought of him finally entering you.

It felt greedy, to want to cum again when you just did not even a full minute ago.

“I know,” he strokes his cock for good measure, and you let out a soft gasp when he hikes your leg over his hip, nudging your other leg to the side. He inserts a finger in your pussy, hissing at your wetness. “Fuck, you are soaked, baby…” 

“Put it in,” You whine, chest heaving up and down as you watch Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. His hand wraps around his dick, strokes it for a moment before gripping near the tip and bringing it closer to your aching heat. 

You moan when the first inch of his cock goes in, mouth gaping at the intrusion. Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he adjusts your leg higher on his hip, pushing deeper. 

“Look at me,” he instructs, “You can take it, right, baby? You’re so wet, so pretty…” 

“I– yes, yes– shit,” you let out a shaky breath, “you’re s-so big, fuck,”

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, voice low and dripping with honey. He gives a gentle, almost subtle thrust that almost knocks you out of the bed.

“Yes, yes, fuck… give it to me, Kook, I want you so bad…”

“Yeah? I’m gonna move in a sec, angel, play with your tits for me.”

You nod your head and do as told, letting your hands wander all over your body before fondling your breasts, moaning instantly at the pleasure. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” is what he says before he slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you up, a shudder escaping past his lips when he slowly pushes more past your tight walls. You choke out a moan, a broken sob coming out of it when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

“Ah…” 

He hisses, fingers digging at your waist as he withdraws from your heat and only the tip of his cock is in you, the scene with it sitting on your soaked pussy enough to send him into an overdrive. 

“You’re so fucking tight holy fuck,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips back into you and finally picking up a pace that makes you whimper and cry out pathetic little moans, mind becoming fuzzy at the thrusts of his cock in your entrance. 

Your walls clench at the glide of his cock against you, feeling him falter at the little stunt. But you can’t help it. Your body is on fire as Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, pulling you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his dick are tickling your skin. Your elbow shake as it loses balance, but Jungkook is quick to catch you just on time, leaning down to hover over your body, but it only makes the angle of his fuck deeper, and maybe he meant to do that too. 

Your hands are quick to wrap around his shoulders as you feel the tip of his cock prodding against your cervix like he’s going all out, your hips jumping as he rams back inside. 

He repeats the movement like a graceful dancer, thrusts deep and purposeful, pulling out wailing sounds from you you begin to worry if the neighbors could hear. He tucks his head against your neck and presses a kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips into you, pistoning into your squelching heat. His body is so close, so warm, sweaty skin gliding against yours.

“Fuck, fucking hell, baby – fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook growls, finding your mouth and kissing you again. His hips snaps back into you once again, and you both swallow each other’s moans at the contact, letting your bodies rock to the sound of your fucking. His hand is on your chest immediately, squeezing everywhere until it settles on pinching your nipple between his fingers. 

“Jungkook– ah, baby— fuckkkkk,” You shudder, feeling your pussy quiver at every snap and every withdrawal, and when he brings his hand to your clit and rubs it in quick circles, you screw your eyes shut, feeling that familiar wave again for the second time that night. 

“Jungkook–” 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and come for me, sweet girl?” Jungkook rasps out, sweaty forehead coming into view as he jackhammers into your pussy with ease, welcomed by your never-ending slick. You never thought you’d see Jungkook like that, fucking like a crazed caveman, looking like he can’t get enough but also straining himself a bit to not hurt you – because of course he wouldn’t. 

“Fuck me harder, Kook, I need it– need you to… need you to—”

“Yeah?” he rocks harder, faster just like you said, and you can honestly start to feel the slight pain on your chest as they bounce at the speed, your hand flying to grab at your chest. 

“I’m so close,” you cry out, unconsciously reaching for him and feeling like you’re on edge. Jungkook takes your hand and encloses it around his, thrusting into you once again before whispering against your skin to let go. 

As if that was a magic phrase, you feel something inside you snap. 

“Good girl, I knew you’d come for me, you always do,” Jungkook slurs. You could feel your cum dribbling out of your pussy, creaming his cock, but Jungkook continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your spasming hole, grunting against your skin, mouth leaving random, open-mouthed kisses. 

He drills on, and his cock still feels so achingly hard, seemingly not anywhere near completion yet. You’re nearly mush beneath him from your current release, but you push through it as you press your hands to his chest, forceful enough to send him tumbling a little. He’s caught off-guard by that, and you take that to your advantage as you maneuver yourself to push him completely on his back, his cock sliding out of you. 

He bounces off the mattress a little, looking at you curiously as you straddle his waist. Your sensitive pussy shudders at the cold of the AC in his room, and you feel like your bones have been liquefied, but you don’t let that deter you from taking ahold of his still, indeed, hard cock and sitting on it. 

Jungkook inhales a sharp breath as he watches you bounce on his cock, the head disappearing and appearing in your entrance, like a show he would want to replay over and over again. And you’re determined, stretching your body and leaning back to rest your palms on his thighs for support as you take his dick, switching to a back and forth motion.

“Oh, Jungkook, god – oh my god,” and although it was supposed to be for him – for him to cum – you can honestly feel yourself about to snap again, especially when Jungkook reaches forward to rub your tit, caressing your tattoo underneath with that hungry look in his eyes, and settling on your hips like he’s enjoying the little show you’re putting up for him. 

“That’s it baby, bounce on my cock – you’re doing so we…ll,” he encourages, but there’s a slight break to his tone at the end. “Shit, keep going – fuck. I’m so fucking close– you look so good,” 

You swallow the saliva trapped in your throat to pick up your pace, feeling lightheaded at the overwhelming feeling of his cock prodding against your cervix everytime you go forth. His dick brushes past your clit everytime you move, and you throw your head back when you feel him starting to thrust upward. 

“Are you close again, baby?” Jungkook asks, gripping your hips tight as he meets your ministration. You bite your lip at the question, only whimpering when Jungkook bucks his hips harshly. “Cum for me a third time, pretty girl. Cum with me.” 

“Jungkook, I can’t, I’m so sensitive. I–”

“You can, angel. And you will.”

You mewl when Jungkook reaches for your pussy with his other hand, quickly finding your clit to rub against it again, and that pushes you to the edge quickly – orgasm snapping on an instant just like that. 

Jungkook’s hips stutter, breath caught in between a curse and your name, like the sound of you undid him completely. It was a sound that you heard three days ago when he came in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, hips faltering at his orgasm. “Shit…” 

You drop your body unceremoniously onto him, the exhaustion hitting you all at once.

Wrapping his hands around your body very gently, you feel Jungkook kissing the side of your head, making you shut your eyes close. 

“Jesus.” you blurt out, whole body spent.

“Didn’t know you were religious like that…” He says with a chuckle, caressing your hair mindlessly.

You snap your head quickly to look at him at the familiar words, narrowing your eyes. Jungkook only presses a kiss to your shoulder as if that was some sort of apology, and you let it go with a playful shake of your head.

“Do you still feel bad about missing dinner?” You ask with a smile on your face. 

He let out a low laugh, and the vibration through his chest feels warm against your skin. 

“I’m working on making it up to you.” 

“Does it really involve making me cum three times in a single night?” you arch your brow. “I think you’re overcompensating.” 

Jungkoo gives you a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

And before you can say anything, he flips you over and kisses you again, which makes you giggle into his mouth.  

all right reserved © awrkive, 2025. no reposts, modification, translations, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[starpeachjelly]

Kindred Spirits ₊˚⊹⋆

prologue part 2

prologue part 1

summary: Your worries about changing the story have started to fade. You've only interacted with her and Caleb so far. As long as you don't bump into anyone else you believe that everything will be alright.

warnings: accidental injury. stab wound. brief mention of blood.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: thank you to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, and commented on part one! i'm so glad you're enjoying this story. the prologue will be split into three parts that focus on reader's childhood with some characters. the official chapters will take place when reader is an adult! but for now enjoy! constructive criticism is always appreciated too since im trying to work on my writing!!

When your family tells you that you're all headed to Josephine's for dinner you don't really think much of it. After all, your family has been invited over countless of times before due to your shared closeness with her. It should be just another regular shared super. But when you walk up to the house, your feet instinctively starting to drag on the pavement, an uneasy feeling washes over you. Nothing seems amiss as you're welcomed inside. The only noticeable difference is the couple who are sitting on the couch. There's a sense of familiarity in their features that you can't quite place your finger on. Josephine introduces them as friends of hers. And you can't help but wonder if they're from EVER. You barely have the time to get introduced to them before you're probed by your parents to go play with the others with an eagerness that reveals how impatient they are to start drinking.

Three pairs of eyes land on you the moment you step foot into her room. There, sitting on the floor is who you immediately recognize as a young Zayne. You suddenly understand why you felt so anxious when coming over, as well as where the familiarity of the couple (who you now know to be his parents) comes from. If you weren't so shocked you'd mentally slap yourself for not being more careful in keeping your distance. You knew Zayne would make her acquaintance at around this time in her life. You're a bit startled when she grabs your hand and sits you down between her and Zayne. His gaze is filled with such seriousness that you wonder if he knows that you don't belong in this moment. Instead, he greets you with a formality that catches you off guard. Even as a child he's stoic and pragmatic. It's impossible to stop an endeared smile from tugging at your lips. You tell him your own name. He only nods, not talking much after that as you all play whatever game she wishes.

Zayne remains silent throughout dinner. You're sitting next to him again, just as quiet as he is. Everyone else at the table is talking enough for the both of you. Your mom and Zayne's mom are chatting about what they do for work. Josephine is discussing with Zayne's dad about something you don't quite understand. And your own father is talking to Caleb and her about his adventures as a pilot, both of them listening intently with wide eyes.

In the corner of your vision you notice the carrots that remain on Zayne's plate. The orange sticks standing out on his otherwise empty dish.

"Can I have your carrots?" you ask, breaking the silence between you both, wanting to save him from being scolded for being a picky eater.

Hazel green eyes widen ever so slightly, a barely noticeable hint of surprise written on his face. He nods and turns his plate to give you easier access to the vegetables.

Silence quickly settles back between the two of you, but you catch him looking in your direction a few times throughout the rest of dinner.

Eventually the night comes to an end, and you pat yourself on the back for handling this unexpected surprise pretty well. For once you don't even feel anxious about impacting the story. A single chance encounter with twelve year old Zayne surely won't change anything.

Unfortunately for you, nothing is ever that simple. Zayne officially becomes part of your group a few days later. He doesn't talk much, and you don't either, wanting to let the three of them enjoy themselves together. However, whenever she notices you being quiet for too long she seems to go out of her way to make sure you're involved in conversation. She even goes as far as to brag about how smart you are to Zayne, telling him that you two should talk about "smart stuff" together. Which leaves you laughing awkwardly because you know that even with your past memories you're not nearly as smart as he is. But to your surprise he starts talking to you a little more often after that. You assume it's because he doesn't want to disappoint her. No one wants to be on the receiving end of her puppy eyes, they're lethal.

Time passes, the last couple months of school come to a finish. Summer break comes and goes. Your days are filled with you four hanging out nearly every day. Unfortunately your fun comes to a halt when the last week of summer rolls around. You know that things are going to change. Based on the events of the story, Zayne will soon lose control of his evol and hurt her. So you start to mentally prepare yourself for what's about to happen. In your mind you know they'll both be okay, but your heart aches knowing that they'll both end up hurt, and that you can't stop it. But that key moment doesn't happen. At least not in the way it's supposed to play out.

She's not even in the room when it happens, having gone to the kitchen to get more snacks. It's just you and Zayne, and a sudden chill that starts to creep across the room. You watch as his usual calm demeanour slowly shifts into one of panic as frost begins to spread across his hands and arms. Everything happens so quickly that you barely have time to process it. One moment you're watching with wide eyes as frost turns to crystals that are now inching up all the way to his neck, the next shards of ice burst and fly across the room. You try to shield yourself, but one manages to pierce into your abdomen. Maybe it's the shock, or the cold, but you don't really feel anything except for a numb tingle. Your eyes are glued to your wound, watching as red starts to dye the bluish ice. The sight should panic you, but for some strange reason you know you'll be okay. When you look back up, Zayne is staring at you in shock. His eyes filled with guilt and fear. You immediately reassure him.

"It's okay," you tell him with a calmness to your voice that surprises even you.

Josephine enters the room. She's quick to call the paramedics. A pair of footsteps can be heard coming back from the kitchen. You immediately ask Josephine to keep her away, not wanting her to witness what's happening.

Zayne is still looking at you with that same heart wrenching expression.

"It's okay," you assure him once again, "It was an accident."

You don't look away from each other. Even when the paramedics arrive. Even when they wheel you to the ambulance. Your eyes are on him until the very last moment.

Zayne is gone by the time you get out of the hospital. You've tried so hard not to impact the original story as best you can, only to end up taking her place in a key moment in their story. Unfortunately there's nothing you can do now since he left without so much as single word. You're left hoping that this hasn't changed too much of their future.

Luckily she remains unaware of what happened, having been told you were simply not feeling well. (Which technically isn't a lie since being stabbed doesn't feel good.) However, despite being oblivious to the incident, every time you two are together you notice that she looks at you with something akin to worry. Thankfully her concerned gazes stop after a few weeks, so do the mentions of Zayne.

Things go back to normal, as if the event never happened. All you're left with is a faint scar from where the icicle had stabbed you. You don't mind it. It's small, and always hidden under your shirt. But you can't help but trace over it whenever you get undressed. A chill runs down your spine every time you see it. A reminder that you're now written into a story that you shouldn't be a part of.

tag list: @moonchildjae00 @elegantdeerlady @hon3yydew @chocochip-gaia @solmanel1 @wooasecret @peachystea @seung185 @mcdepressed290 @whimsiecat @shadowypeachsweets @animegamerfox

a/n: thank you all sm for your comments they mean the world to me!! 🥺💕

[r3starttt]

DONT LEAVE PLEASEE WHY IS EVERYONE LEAVING

UGHHH SO MANY REASONSSS

I genuinely enjoy writing and want to create more than just smut, I wanna do cute or angsty fics, longer stories, or series even (my main goal rn is to try smaus) but those usually flop. Most people only engage with short, sexual content, and it’s discouraging at one point :( Writers rarely get feedback like comments or reblogs. And once again, when we try something different, it often goes unnoticed. Requests are always for the same stuff, and if we don’t write that, people lose interest. Writing for characters like Caitlyn or Abby gets way less love than Ellie or Vi, and even when you do write for x characters, people complain if your take doesn’t match their expectations. It sucks to feel this pressure when engagement is so low. For example, I have 3k followers and barely get 100 likes now, when I used to get 1k. It makes me wonder if it’s even worth it sometimes 😞 mostly cs I miss anon interactions and comments and reblogs and moots, and seeing none of that is like... am I even doing this right? like does people even enjoy what I write anymore????

[sicvitaest27]

I’d like to give my two cents on this subject, as an author myself.

Honestly, I consider myself quite a free speaker, and will ask if I have something to ask, just as I’ll comment, when I have something to comment. Also, when I’m done with the story, I’m more than happy to give feedback.

Of course, I understand that one of the beautiful things about writing WIP s is that real time interaction with readers, as the story progresses. But, for me personally, I do find myself waiting for the story to continue, without having the need to input anything. Not because I don’t care about the story, just because I understand what is going on, the direction, and everything else is just explained well, so there’s nothing really prompting me to ask anything, for it would, probably, be spoiler territory.

Now, of course, theories and whatnot are always welcome, but, there’s only so much theories that can be made about a story; and that heavily depends on how vague the story is being written, and don’t even get me started of people guessing and guessing, and then, by so many guesses, finish the story before you even get a chance to conclude it yourself. That’s a totally different can of worms, that I do not want to get myself into at the moment😂

Now, when an author explicitly asks a question to the readers, sure, it is always a welcome thing to answer, but, it should be considered that, unless they have enabled the notifications from a specific blog, chances are, that, if they follow a lot of blogs and people, they simply won’t see it, and for the ones that do, not all of them will feel the urge to respond. Why? I don’t know, that’s just their preference, and the reasonings are their own, and that’s okay. That’s how it is.

I’m relatively close to submitting a story of my own, and honestly, I would love to have interaction with the readers, for them to tell me how did they like the story, the characters, but I understand if they don’t, because, 9 times out of 10, I first, don’t find myself having the need to give constant feedback, and if that’s the case for me, I can’t put different expectations onto others.

But that’s just normal. That’s why you see games on steam, that everyone knows have sold millions, yet have only 300 reviews, or IF s on steam, that have authors on tumblr, and they are writing a second book for their IF, and there’ll still be barely any questions about it, or any theories.

Would I want for the community to be more active? Absolutely, but only because I want people to have a good time, and to feel free to have that good time, without thinking that they’re going to be subjected to whatever. But, if they are still here, following along, then that’s fine too, and that shouldn’t affect the authors, because, I understand that it’s always good to get that engagement, because that tells you that you’re doing something that’s worth doing, worth more than you may initially think, but, as an artist, you should do it because of yourself, first and foremost.

This is not a rant, and this is not a comment made against anyone who feels differently than what I just said; you’re justified in that, and I do feel you, trust me, but, as long as people want to stick around and enjoy your stories, then I say let them! And, if they wish to talk to the brilliant mind behind the story, then by all means, but I don’t see a point in trying to force something to do that. Because, even encouraging can be viewed like that, and I doubt that any of us want that.

So, to conclude this, yes, the community may have gone a tad bit quieter, and the reasons for that are unknown to me, but, should that change? Hopefully, but if not, then hell, it is what it is. There are certainly many factors and reasons that can be taken into account for that, but, what I advocate for, is for people to be comfortable and have a good time. And for authors, to do this because they truly like doing it, and, as Toni Morrison had put it, “If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” That’s how I view my writing. No one’s written this, in this specific setting or this specific way, with these specific characters, and so, I shall write it, and if people like it? That’s just icing on the cake.

Anyhow, to all my fellow authors, I feel you, I truly do, but hey, things change the way they do, but that shouldn’t demotivate you. People will express themselves when they wish to do so, for reasons only they have, and that’s also fine as well. Hopefully, folks will get more comfortable, for the IF community is a lovely community, which offers a safe space for everyone, but, if they just wish to follow along, let them. It’s all you can really do. Cheers to everyone, and love to all🥂🖤

I think a lot of authors have noticed this lately: Likes, comments, reblogs with reviews... everything seems to be getting quieter. Stories go on, chapters come out, but all too often, it's a great silent nothingness that greets them.

Are we at fault, or is it something else? Yet you're there, we can see you raising the view counters on our demos.

I'm not here to lecture or beg for anything. I'd just like to understand, as many other authors do, why ? Because this statement is the result of a growing concern? Depression?among our ranks. To the degree that some of us have come to say: What's the point?

I'd just like to remind you of one thing: a story is alive, yes, but ! It's alive thanks to you, not just to us.

Every word you read, every emotion you feel, every theory you silently formulate: it's all part of the magic of a story, and it needs to be shared. When you share it all, a comment, a reblog with a fews words, even a brief reaction, that's when it really comes together, you're blowing on the story's flame! You fuel it, make it tangible. You give it a life that an author, alone in front of their screen, can't always sustain over time. Believe me, we try... Some are more gifted than others, but I'm all for helping each other.

Because yes, we write out of passion, out of desire, out of need. Yes, we love our worlds. But the impetus, the joy, the motivation, the feeling of really being read, all that is also born from exchange.

So here it is, just a quick note to say that if you like or don't like something, please say so. No need for a big dissertation but there's nothing worse than silence, it's the great reaper of our aspirations and I don't want to let it win.

And to my author friends: you're not alone. 💙

[prettycalla]

|| reverentia ||

Pairing: Geta/Reader

Summary: Geta is afforded a rare, quiet morning with his Empress. He refuses to let even a second of it go to waste.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags and warnings: Smut (not overly explicit, but still very obvious!), fluff, Geta adores his wife, Geta's POV, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(Once again, the lovely @getaapologist gave me a little thought and here I am, turning it into a whole thing. Please check out her fics, they're so good! This can also be read as a vague continuation of this fic.)

Geta Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

When Geta awakens, the sun has yet to breach the horizon. The hour is somewhere between night and day; that strange time where he can merely exist as he is. The burdens that come with ruling have been taken from his shoulders, laid to rest elsewhere for a brief moment.

Now, he is a man, no more and no less. It is a strange comfort to him.

He turns his attention then to you, asleep in his embrace. Your head rests against his chest, tucked under his chin. As if you were made to fit so perfectly in his arms as you do.

His beautiful Empress. His beloved wife.

A soft sigh falls from your lips, your warm breath ghosting along Geta’s collarbone, and he cannot help the shiver that runs along the length of his spine. The movement jostles you ever so slightly, but it is enough for Somnus to lift his spell from you.

A sleepy little groan leaves you, and Geta holds himself completely still, lest he disturb you further.

But it is too late.

“Good morning,” you manage to say through a long yawn.

Geta pulls himself back, just enough that he can see your face.

How he finds himself clinging to little moments such as these. When the greedy, unsatisfied child that is his Empire still slumbers on, and his only thoughts can be of you.

He says nothing, yet his mind races with words that he still stumbles over. Words that you are fluent in, that are still foreign on his tongue.

He has always seen vulnerability as a weakness, and yet he does not with you. How you hold your heart out to him, so fragile, so easily crushed by a man who has known only to conquer, to destroy. And yet still you offer it to him, this delicate, breakable thing.

Once he thought you foolish for it; now it only urges him forward to learn to do the same for you.

He does not know how to say it, and so he decides, as he so often does, that he must show you instead.

For rarely does a man of his lofty position ever truly have to think of what he must say. Why would he ever need to, when he has a sea of sycophants at his command?

Simpering sheep with daggers hidden in their wool. Dangerous to turn one’s back to.

But Geta is no less dangerous. He has had to learn from a young age that there are few he can place trust in. The Empire will take and take and take, until he is little more than a husk, picked clean by scavengers.

His teeth have grown long, his claws sharp in his years on the pedestal he has been placed upon. He is versed in swordplay, but will surrender to the animalistic violence more commonplace in his brother when he must. They are two of a kind, after all.

And he will fall prey to his baser urges to protect you, again and again. Without thought, without fail.

You are more precious to him than any jewel, any land, even his title.

He places a hand beneath your jaw, gently tilting your head up to look at him. Truly he is privileged to be the only man to see you as you are now - your face bare, a soft smile pulling at your lips as you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, still tipsy with sleep.

He cannot bear the thought of another seeing you as he does now. Even his own brother.

There was a time when he might have lost your love to Caracalla, and it is the only time in his life that he has ever truly considered taking the very breath from his body. His own flesh and blood. The only other to hold Geta’s heart as fiercely as you do.

You bring a hand up to rest over his, and it is only then that he realises how he trembles. You overwhelm him, like nothing ever has.

Like no one ever will.

He leans in, brushing his nose lightly against yours before he kisses you. His mouth is firm against yours, and as always, you lean into it, allow him to take what he will. You submit so readily to him, and yet he is very aware of how much power you wield over him. He wonders if you know this too.

He nips at your lower lip, and you gasp softly, allowing him entrance. He licks at your mouth; soft in his actions, knows that you will not disappear. That in this moment, he can take his time.

Your hand tightens against his, your body pressing closer to him. He knows that your need for him is gradually growing, as his is for you. He has each little movement, each touch, each sound, committed to memory.

If he were to forget everything, let it not be this.

Let it not be you.

It is with reluctance that he parts from you. He slips free of your gentle hold, placing a line of kisses along the length of your neck, down your shoulder, the crook of your arm, the delicate skin of the inside of your wrist.

He looks up at you, as he presses another kiss to the back of your hand. What a vision you are in his eyes. Venus herself would dare have your head in her ire.

You reach for him then, as if to coax him back to you, and he forces himself to resist the siren song of your embrace, persuaded elsewhere by more pressing matters.

He slips under the covers as he moves lower still, continuing a path of kisses across your stomach, your hip, until he has settled himself quite comfortably between your legs. His hands drag softly along the lengths of your calves, back and forth, until he feels the beginnings of gooseflesh erupt beneath his fingertips.

You offer no resistance, allowing him to arrange you as he likes. It does not escape his notice the unwavering trust that you place in him in these moments.

How he would never dare to lose it.

His hands push at the fabric that covers you from him, over your knees, past your thighs, until it is no longer in the way of what he seeks from you.

He stops for a moment, if only to admire you; beautiful creature that you are, laid almost entirely bare before him. He will never tire of this view, even after his very last breath.

To him, you are a goddess made flesh.

He dips his head to the insides of your thighs, where his cheek, still rough at this time of the morning, scratches against the sensitive skin there. You let out a gasp, and a low chuckle escapes him as he does it again.

“Geta…”

He sucks in a breath at the sound of his name leaving you in such a manner. There are few who will use his given name, fewer still who have earned the right to address him with anything other than his titles.

There is Caracalla, who says his name with such familiarity, as though he was born with the word already on his tongue. And there is you, speaking his name with such care, such fondness, that he finds himself overwhelmed with feelings he does not yet have words for, each and every time he hears it.

"Whatever is the matter?" he asks, composing himself, as though he is unaware of the part he now plays.

"Surely you have teased enough," you reply, with an impatient little huff.

How sweet you are in your desire for him.

"You would accuse me of such a terrible thing?" he asks, the very picture of innocence. "Such treasonous words cannot be ignored."

"Oh, please, you exaggerate- Oh-"

Geta deliberately waits until that very moment to strike, distracting you entirely with his tongue. You jolt at his sudden movement, and he places his hands on your thighs, holding you firmly in place. He is well-versed in making you squirm, but he cannot allow himself to become distracted from the task he has so greedily set himself.

There was once a time when he thought an act like this to be degrading, particularly to one of his lofty position. How he has most assuredly realised his error in judgment.

For how could he possibly see you, as you are in this very moment, as anything less than magnificent?

He has grown far more adept since the first time he had you in this way, and will use every trick at his disposal to leave you a quivering mess beneath him. Little else provides him with as much pleasure as watching you fall apart so beautifully.

If he could keep you like this for eternity, he most certainly would, and judging by how your fingers thread tightly into his fiery locks, free as they are now of the weight of his laurels, you would let him. Let him worship you as you deserve.

He continues to move his tongue against you in that devastating way, until you are able to do little else but let him take what he wants from you. The sounds of your breathless sighs, as they rise slowly in volume, are sweeter than any music to him, little song bird that you are.

"G-Geta," you manage to whisper beneath quick, little breaths.

Your grip tightens in his hair, and sensing your growing need, he works harder to tip you over the edge that you are so desperately teetering from.

"Please- Stop-" you gasp out suddenly.

At that, he lifts his head immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You nod shakily, and his shoulders drop in relief. To think that he might have hurt you-

"I am- I am more than alright," you reply, a tremble in your voice. "But..."

Geta rises then, moving until his body is over yours, his hands pressed to the bed on either side of you.

"But?" he echoes, his gaze focused so intensely on you. "Whatever is the matter?"

You cannot quite meet his eye, and he realises that it is not from fear or worry, but embarrassment.

"It...It is not enough," you admit quietly, finally meeting his gaze.

Geta's eyes widens for a moment, before his lips curl into a knowing smile. When once this would have provoked a childish reaction from him, now it only strokes his ego. Affirms how you feel for him.

"Oh. I see," he replies, crudely running a hand over his mouth. "What would you have me do then?"

As if he does not already know. In answer, you reach for him, your hands gripping his shoulders, as your heels dig gently into the backs of his legs, urging him closer.

Up until now, he has been able to ignore his own urges for the most part, but no longer can he cast them aside. Not with your soft touch against him, the warmth that radiates from your body, how you look at him, with such desire in your eyes.

To deny himself of you any longer would be to deny you both, and so he moves, his patience swiftly on the brink as he lines himself up and pushes into you. It takes everything in his power to stop himself from collapsing on top of you, but the feeling of you - that heat - around him is intoxicating. He is but a man, after all.

He gives you as much time as he can to adjust, but it is you who breaks first, clutching at his strong arms.

"Geta...If you do not move soon, I shall be driven to madness," you tell him, your need for him so evident in how you speak.

He needs no more convincing, and so he does as you command. He moves, and a groan slips through his clenched teeth at how perfect you feel. He is far too proud to admit it, but he knows that he will not last long.

He forces himself to focus on finishing what he has started, managing to build a somewhat steady rhythm, as he grows more and more pent-up with lust.

You only serve to make matters worse, clinging to him in a desperate manner as you urge him on. Your breath stutters, your nails scratching at his skin, and he knows that you draw close.

Geta's arms are tight around you, his fingers sure to leave bruises with how hard they press into your skin. He is animalistic in his need, yearning for release - both his and yours.

"Let go, mea lux," he all but pleads, as his hand slides between your bodies to push you further. "Let me see you."

It is not much longer before you are at last overcome, your back arching in his hold. He swears under his breath at how you squeeze him, and he is losing what little patience he had, he cannot last, he cannot-

His hips jerk forward as he spills into you, a growl working its way out of his throat as that wave of pleasure finally crashes over him. He ruts against you until he is finally spent, suddenly exhausted.

It is some time before he is able to move again. He manages to push himself up onto his elbows, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. Your face is flushed, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing. He gives in to the sudden urge to kiss you that overtakes him, taking pride in how you gasp in surprise.

Neither of you speak for a while, content to quietly bask in the afterglow of it all together.

But there is only so long that Geta can ignore it. The unwelcome visitor in the room.

Sunlight is already beginning to peek through the slit in the curtains, slowly spilling across the floor, and breaking the spell that Geta has allowed himself to fall under.

"The hour grows later," he says softly.

It is with reluctance that he utters those words. He would give anything to remain as he is.

"Do as you must," you tell him.

He looks down at you, to find you staring up at him. He knows that look in your eyes all too well.

Stay here with me, you silently plead.

Geta lets out a quiet breath. Perhaps he can indulge himself a while longer. He lies down once more, pulling you into his arms as he does so. With your head once again against his chest, your soft breaths against his collarbone, it is as if he had never woken you at all.

Although he is most certainly glad that he did.

"Surely the palace can remain in one piece without me for a few minutes more," he murmurs.

You hum in agreement, wrapping your arms tightly around him in turn. Geta cannot resist the smile threatening to break across his face, and so he allows it. Allows himself another small moment of peace.

There is nowhere in the world that he would rather be right now, and certainly no one else that he would rather be with, than you.

Taglist: @lover-rep-fanfic @x-vadon @dubiousmetamorphosis @hikohyuuga @iitsmandii @medievalharlot @glassbxttless @getaapologist @fandom-princess-forevermore @robinbuckleywife @bib200 @samslvrgirl @cheesesandwichsanto @magikdarkholme @spider-starry

(You can join the taglist here! You can also ask to be removed through the same form!)

[paesagex]

Catharsis

This was imagined as a spin-off of @codenamesazanka ‘s beautiful AU, but I guess it could be read as some kind of continuation to my own “A gift”. After all, the theme is kinda the same. What? I’m really fascinated by those hands.

A brief summary of the AU: All Might manages to kill Afo on the first try, and Tomura and Kurogiri are captured. After the 15 yo boy spends months in Tartarus, finally Toshinori decides to take action and get the boy out to reform him himself, even though at the cost of gradual retirement. It’s a rough path. But wounds heal, with time and patience.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Wait lowk need a amortentia trope in serendipity like before they even interacted as much? Maybe if you could write that please 💕

an: i very much agree!!! im sorry if this is the worst piece of writing you've ever read....please give me grace as im very out of practice LOL....so this little scene is set pre-serendipity!! thanks for the request 🤭🤭💕

also i know that according to the lexicon and other sources, it takes like a week to make the potion but for the purpose of my own timeline, its a fast tracked process (like 2 hours max – to fit a typical double lesson structure) !!

love is for fools — mattheo riddle

"Powerful infatuations can be induced by the skilful potioneer, but never yet has anyone managed to create the truly unbreakable, eternal, unconditional attachment that alone can be called love." — Hector Dagworth-Granger regarding love potions; The Tales of Beedle the Bard

The potions classroom was dark and smelled faintly of crushed herbs and mildew from the stone walls that were slick with age. It was a heavy juxtaposition to the air outside of the classroom. Professor Snape was stood in a shrouded corner of the room, heavy cloak draped around him like shadows as he waited for you all to enter in a calm and silent fashion.

You'd just come from a horrific double session of Defence where Professor Umbridge had, once again, undermined and belittled Harry infront of the entire class, leaving Riddle and his gaggle of friends snickering at the back of the room, with no consequences. To say you were fuming for your best friend would be an understatement. But after experiencing one of her detentions on multiple occasions Harry, and even Fred, had made you promise not to do, or say, anything that the terrorising professor would deem worthy enough to gift you one of her torture sessions.

But as the rest of October ensued, it was becoming harder and harder to keep your loose promise to both boys.

"Someone needs to bring her attitude down a peg or two." You mutter to Ron, who nods his head in grim agreement. "Why won't Dumbledore do anything?"

"Suppose he's not allowed to interfere with the Ministry." Ron replies and you roll your eyes in light annoyance.

"He's never been afraid to oppose them before. And its not like he's oblivious to what she's been doing during her detentions." You whisper, voice barely heard over the scrape of chairs as you and your peers take your seats. You sneak a glance at Harry's freshly bandaged hand and grimace. "It's absolutely barbaric and he can't keep ignoring it."

Ron hums in agreement as he slams his ink pot onto the table, prompting Snape to glare at him with barely hidden disgust.

His beady eyes scan over the room, slow and assessing. They linger on where you, Ron, Hermione and Harry are grouped together at one of the stations, alongside two Hufflepuffs and Padma Patil, who was whispering to her sister on the station next to her's. He then focuses on where Malfoy, Berkshire and Zabini conspire over a piece of parchment in the back, and of course, he says nothing about them, and their other friends, not paying attention.

"Today you will be brewing blindly. To test whether or not you should consider choosing Potions as a subject next year." His monotonous drawl fills the room like an echo.

You could physically feel the way Harry rolled his eyes as he glared, not so inconspicuously, at his least favourite Professor.

"Only few of you in this class will be competent enough to understand which potion you will be brewing when I say it must have a mother-of-pearl appearance." He continues, eyes still continuously scanning the classroom.

Wordlessly, and without him picking up his wand, the ingredients for the potion appear on the blackboard behind him:

One piece of Bdellium....Five Flutterby bush flowers....One sprig of Knotgrass...Three Lacewing flies....

You were brewing Amortentia. The most powerful, dangerous love potion in the world. A NEWT level potion that, if brewed wrong, could cause very serious side effects and even death. And for this reason, Dumbledore had banned the sale, production and usage of such a potion outside of school hours.

While you had faith in your friends, most of the class were abysmal at potion brewing. And Snape was notorious for getting people to try their own potions if he so felt like it.

This would be an interesting couple of hours.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The dungeons were sweltering by the time the first hour had passed.

You had sweat collecting at the bottom of your ponytail, and beside you, Hermione's once pristine curls had become frizzier as the hour progressed. Harry and Ron looked no better, either. In the cauldron between the two of you, your brew had begun to have a slight sheen, however it wasn't quite pearly enough to be a satisfactory brew of Amortentia.

"We just need to keep stirring it anti-clockwise now that we've added the lavender." Hermione says, her voice airy and tired, a side-effect to the heat that swirled around the room. You nodded wordlessly and continued with the ladel as she reaches for her bottled water from her bag underneath the bench. "I hate how there are no windows down here."

"Right! Seems very impractical when we're surrounded by dangerous fumes." You mumble, scrunching your nose up as you get a whiff of whatever your potion was beginning to smell like: firewood or old parchment; you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"What can you smell in the potion right now?" You ask Hermione, who leans close to the nose of the cauldron and breathes in a decent amount of the steam that had begun to settle on the surface of the potion.

"I'm not sure, but we've definitely done it right. Freshly mown grass and new parchment. I think." She responds, thoughtfully. "What about you."

"I can't quite put my finger on it. At first it smelt like smoke but now," you breathe in some of the more concentrated steam, "now I can definitely smell cinnamon or some kind of spiced herb and I think I can smell the soap Mrs Weasley has in the bathrooms back at The Burrow, too."

Hermione is smirking by the time you've recounted what you can smell.

"We've definitely brewed it right." She says, a giggle rising in her throat as you stare at her incredulously.

"Why are you laughing, Mione?" You ask, confusion lacing your rosy face.

"Cinnamon, spiced herbs and Mrs Weasley's soap." Hermione repeats what you said back to you slowly, as if trying to emphasise a point she had made in silence.

"Meadow don't be dim! You must know who the scents remind you of."

You stare at her dumbly for a moment, before going back to the potion, which had begun to give off the correct characteristics of an Amortentia potion, and smelling the steam that was rolling off of it in waves.

And then it hit you immediately. And Hermione's laugh echoed around your station, quietly so she didn't have Snape breathing down your necks, which gathered the attention of Harry and Ron, who stared at you both like you'd gone mad. And maybe you had.

Cinnamon and clove; Mrs Weasley's soap. You were smelling Fred Weasley.

Gods, Ron was going to throttle you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

With the revelation that you were apparently in love with your best friend's older brother, your potion, and a handful of other people's potions were completed, which also signified that the lesson was almost over.

Two hours of sweltering torture and you were ready to collapse into a pool of ice water, at this point.

Your friends clearly felt the same sentiment. Harry's hair was even messier than usual, sticking slightly to the nape of his neck and his glasses were constantly fogging up from the humidity. Ron had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie was loose around his collar, Snape's qualms about his incorrect use of his uniform long forgotten in the heat. And Hermione's hair had somehow gotten more frizzy in the last hour than ever before, although you had mumbled a spell you'd been perfecting wandlessly which tampered it down quite a bit, which your Gryffindor friend was grateful for.

Professor Snape looked as he always did once he took centre stage at the front of the dark classroom once more, dressed head to toe in black; his cloak draping down him like a blanket. One glance at the Slytherins showed that, they too were formidable against the blistering sweatbox that was the dungeons potions room.

Even Theo Nott, someone that you were now forced to put up with due to Prefect Patrols in the evenings, looked as prim and proper as he always did: not a crease to be seen in his shirt or robe, his tie not askew like so many others in the room. He looked as if the heat did not affect him at all, only the slightest tinge of rose on his cheeks gave it away. The rest of his group was in the same condition as him: not a hair out of place, looking as if they hadn't just brewed a complex potion for two straight hours. The only odd one our was Riddle, who was sat lazily in his seat, lounging as if he wasn't in a classroom. Tie half undone, shirt untucked but not ruffled, hair a mess but not in a scruffy, sweaty way. And yet, you had to admit that despite his devil-may-care attitude, he still managed to look effortlessly good. Although you'd never, ever admit that out loud.

Gods, they were all insufferable.

Before thoughts of hexing the smug look of aloofness from Riddle's face could be entained for even a moment, Snape's voice filled the room with a commanding cadence that sent the whispering between stations to an immediate halt.

"You have had two hours to brew your Amortentia." He says, gazing lazily towards each cauldron on the tables in front of him. "Some of you," he looks around at the few cauldrons, including your's, where the tell-tale steam rises and evaporates into the atmosphere, "have been successful and may even have the slightest chance of entering my classroom next year."

"Others, like Longbottom," he turns his glare onto the nervous Gryffindor who practically sinks into his seat. "Have failed so astronomically, that I may consider taking you off the course, prematurely, myself."

Neville and even a few other students cower at that and it sends Riddle and his posse into a fit of quiet snickering that forces you to send a glare over your shoulder at them. Ron does the same. They ignore you both and continue to laugh at other people's misfortune.

"But the Headmaster would, unfortunately, never allow that. So in that case, we won't be testing out those potions." Snape continues as if his Slytherin students were not currently being disruptive towards him.

'Fucking favouritism. Perhaps they should have a taste of Umbridge's punishments.' You think bitterly, and you swear Nott and Riddle's laughter grows a little louder, but you must just be too distracted by their loudness.

"Miss Meadow and Miss Granger," Snape says, snapping you from your thoughts. "Bring up your sample."

Once you have gotten a vile full of your potion, you wordlessly stand up and walk to the front of the class, Hermione hot on your heels. Snape swirls the glass under his nose for a second and breathes in the potion's aroma. He's silent for a moment before the ghost of smile flashes across his face. It's gone before either of you can blink.

"Tell me, Miss Meadow. What do you smell in your potion?" He asks, blatantly ignoring your friend beside you, who is bouncing on her feet with restless energy, eager to be told that you'd done it right. The whole room had begun to smell like your potion at this point. But you know that in higher concentrations, Amortentia tends to be stronger in scent. Not that you're complaining, though.

"Umm..." You pause and your eyes catch Ron's before you look away immediately. "Cinnamon and clove, fresh soap and–"

You pause as another smell becomes more clear to you when you smell the air again.

"–and something smokey. Like a fireplace or burning embers."

You sneak a glance at Ron, who is staring at you with widened eyes before he turns to Harry as if to wordlessly say, "can you believe what we're hearing right now?!?!"

Harry, of course, is clueless. But Hermione just smiles knowlingly.

"Very well." Snape responds to you before his eyes are finally snapping to the back of the room, where the Slytherins are all gathered.

"Mr Riddle," he says monotonously and the boy looks away from where he had been staring aimlessly around the classroom.

Riddle makes an exaggerated effort to get a whiff of his own potion, the scent of whatever it is that satisfies him clearly catching him off guard as his brows furrow in light confusion.

"I don't know." He says boredly. "Wildflowers and rain."

He doesn't elaborate and Snape doesn't pester him for an answer but when you take your seat, you feel the beginning of a headache form at the back of your skull.

You grimace and rub at the spot that hurts but think nothing of it. It's probably the discomfort of the heat finally getting to you now that you know you can leave and sit in the courtyard once the clock strikes midday.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The air in Professor Slughorn's classroom is vastly different to what you've been used to experiencing while Snape was your Potions teacher in the past. Despite the fact that it was still held in the dungeons, this classroom felt brighter somehow. More cosy and breathable in comparison to the dreary environment that caused you and your friends to dread ever having a lesson down in the depths of the castle.

Walking into the first potions lesson of the year was not dissimilar to what it had been like before, except this year the class was vastly smaller than it had been in previous years. Only a handful of your classmates had evidently passed the Potions OWL, as there were about twenty of you in total.

You and Hermione followed Lavender Brown and Romilda Vane through the door and you're met with a variety of smells that hit you all at once. It's impossible to tell one scent from another.

Theo and Pansy are already sat at a station near that back of the room and you immediately drag Hermione to the remaining two seats. She follows, albeit begrudgingly, and her face paints a picture of unease as Pasny smiles at her and then you in greeting.

"Must we sit here?" She mutters under her breathe, casting a look of dread and disgust towards the station next to you, where Riddle sits with Berkshire, as aloof as always.

"I'm sorry but I'm not sitting next to Romilda bloody Vane all year. I think I'd pitch myself from the Astronomy Tower." You reply quietly. "Besides Pansy and Theo aren't so bad."

"She's right, Granger. We are a dream." Theo butts into your conversation with a smirk that stretches across his whole face.

You and Pansy roll your eyes.

"You do have a point, Meadow. At least we won't see her oggling Harry." Hermione replies to you, ignoring Theo altogether.

He sees this and his mouth drops open dramatically.

"Tesoro! Your friend cannot ignore me!" He says with a whine that has all of his friends, including you, scoffing at his theatrics. But you don't say anything, only smirk as he becomes more gobsmacked at the fact that a girl could blatantly ignore his existence. But you can see how Hermione visibly relaxes beside you and you're instantly grateful that he was able to, unknowingly, put her at ease.

'You and your friends really don't like us do you?' His voice is grating in your mind and you grimace as a stabbing pain slices through your skull at the slightest intrusion.

'You've all been worldclass dicks to her, and the others, for years. I'm surprised she hasn't gotten up and moved tables.' You say, or you think you say, in response to him.

And by the way he raises an eyebrow at you and laughs under his breath, you don't know whether you have succeeded or not. And it bothers you to no end.

'You need more practice, Princess.' He says and for the rest of the lesson, you know that your head is going to hurt more from this slight interaction than it will if Ron and Harry were to get into another Quidditch debate.

Speaking of, the two boys stumbled into the classroom, later than usual, their uniforms askew and bags half hanging off their shoulders. Professor Slughorn however, hardly batted an eyelid as they took the teo remaining seats near the back of the room.

The Professor only smiled warmly at Harry, who sat down with huff, before he stood in front of his desk, ready to address the class.

"Now then," He says, clasping his hands together before he motions towards everyone. "Get your scales and potions kits out, everyone. And your copies of Advanced Potion-Making too-"

Harry's raised hand halts his instruction.

"Sir?" He asks, his face tinged red.

"Yes, Harry, m'boy?" Slughorn asks and from beside you, you can see Theo roll his eyes. You kick his shin with your foot.

'Tesoro what the fuck!'

You ignore him, and the stabbing pain in the back of your head, rubbing at it in mild annoyance.

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything – neither has Ron – we didn't realise we'd be able to do the NEWTs you see-"

"Yes! Professor McGonagall mentioned so. But not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all! You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today and I'm sure I can lend you some scales. There's a small stock of old books in the cupboard at the back of the room too. They'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

You tune the conversation out, instead focusing intently on your abandoned quill that rests on the table. In your mind, you make a swirling notion which sends the quill into graceful spirals which occupies your bored state until the sound of a minute scuffle interrupts you.

Harry and Ron are grasping for a book. A book. You can't believe your eyes.

When Ron victoriously wanders back to his seat with the more pristine version of Advanced Potion-Making you smirk at Harry who holds a battered, crumpled version that has clearly seen better days.

Hermione stifles a laugh from beside you.

"Now then," Slughorn says, which gathers your attention once more. "I have prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Can anyone tell me what this one is?"

He begins going through each potion that had been sat at the main station at the front of the room, which explained why you were so overwhelmed by various smells when you first walked into the room. He showed and discussed Veritaserum, a truth potion that was colourless, odorless and banned to use, and Polyjuice Potion which you were, unfortunately, rather familiar with already.

"Now who can tell me what this one is?" Slughorn uncovers the lid and your hand shoot's into the air without a second thought as the smell overwhelms your senses.

"That's Amortentia, sir. The most powerful love potion in the world." You say once he motions for you to give your answer.

"Excellent. And I assume you knew this by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"Yes and the characteristic spirals." You say with enthusiasm. "It's also supposed to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them."

Slughorn nods to let you continue.

"For example I smell burning embers..." You pause and take a breath of the potion, which has a different scent profile than when you remember it last year. "Spiced amber and something else but I can't quite tell."

You sound as confused as you look but Slughorn, thankfully ignores it.

"Thank you for sharing, Miss-"

"Meadow, sir."

"Meadow? You wouldn't happen to be related to Joseph Meadow, would you?"

"Yes, he's my father." You reply and Slughorn smiles warmly in recognition.

"Ah you do resemble him very well now that I think about it. He was one of my star potioneers when he was a student here. Twenty points to Ravenclaw, m'dear."

You smile in response to that as Slughorn continues the lesson. But you're left reeling at the scent that the Amortentia omitted when you smelled it for the first time in just over a year.

Because the last time you checked, Fred Weasley did not smell like that.

Like burning embers and spiced amber and dark oud. And he most certainly didn't smell like the distinctive metallic of blood, either.

You glance at the station behind you and Riddle is staring at you. It's unnerving and unsettling and you don't like it.

You feel his stare as it prickles against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The prickling sensation leaves you soon after it starts, as if he's finally taken his dark eyes off of you, taking the headache-y sensation with him.

You think nothing of it and ignore the Amortentia, to the best of your ability, for the remaining hour of the lesson.

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@whatsupb18

[propenseverbosity]

Spoilers for Eddie and Volt's story in Date Everything but I need to rant about this for a minute.

I get why Volt exists. Honestly if I got to that point where Eddie was, I'd be burned out too. (Hell, I did. And I was.)

Keeping the power stable is a full-time job in itself. Now that he's running the Breaker Box too, Eddie needs someone to run the bar, dazzle the crowd, command the stage, complete all the necessarily repairs to maintain the club, and have enough mental and physical energy left over to keep the damn lights on. He's only one man. All that on top of a faulty wire? He knows he can't keep up with all of it forever without fizzling out.

To fix this, he made Volt to pick up the slack. For both the house power and the Breaker Box, but it's become so much more than that. He made Volt to be the host because he's the personification of what Eddie thinks people want from him. Volt is handsome, charming, and likeable. He doesn't tire out as easily after a surge, doesn't need to take breaks between social interactions to recharge (or else he starts snapping at customers left and right) and he doesn't shy away from flirting with people he finds attractive.

Volt is Eddie's mask taken form. He's there to throw on a smile and flirt with the human often enough that they won't want to peek behind the curtain and see what a mess everything really is. All they see is a loose floorboard here, a cracked bulb there, and hidden beneath it all is Eddie, barely keeping it together.

After all, why would they ever want Eddie when they can have Volt? Eddie himself created Volt to be everything he wants to be. How could anyone not fall in love with that?

So when the human starts taking an interest in Eddie of all people, he's confused. They must be there for Volt, right? Everyone's there for Volt. No one actually shows up to the Breaker Box just to see Eddie. Not that Volt would allow that in the first place, especially if Eddie was resting that day.

(Half the dialogue options for that interaction involve asking him where Volt is, or mentioning they'll wait until Volt gets there and that just broke my heart. This man is not ready for anyone to take an interest in HIM.)

Because the human does, of course, like Volt too, but that doesn't make Eddie any less important to them. (They are truly a bonded pair, do not separate.) The human wants to make sure both of them are okay, and seeing Eddie hurt is hard for them. They want to help in any way they can, whether Eddie trusts their intentions or not.

Even during the repairs he's hesitant to trust them. After all, they're probably only helping him to get in good with Volt, right?

But then he opens up to them about his struggles, and they promise not to tell Volt about what's going on, and he realizes they really do care about him, and want to help the club.

THAT'S the reason he calls them Live Wire after the reset, because it's not really just Volt who calls them that, Volt is literally a subset of Eddie's existing personality.

The way I see it is more like how a circuit splits power from series to parallel. He created another version of himself during that split, but in terms of making that split power into A Person, he hand-picked certain aspects of his personality to give Volt so that people would like him. After the split, Volt kinda grew to become his own person, so their personalities would be sorta like a venn diagram. Eddie on one side, Volt on the other, and the intersection is the specific traits Eddie chose to give Volt.

And how could Eddie not fall in love with the person he created to protect him on his worst days?

Anyway thank you for coming to my TED Talk, I'm very normal about the breaker box tyvm

[heartpascal]

name your courage

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you don’t like the blood in your reflection, joel wipes it away.

▹— a/n: this is like 1.4k words and it’s shit, sorry!!! barely any joel interaction but it’s the thought that counts? (from feb’23, posted june’25 so go easy lmao) this was supposed to be a lot longer i think

▹— warnings: extremely unfinished, creeps from silver lake, reader murders folk (off page), trauma, dissociation, BLOOD, canon typical violence

MASTERLIST

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Life in Jackson had been something of a miracle. A working, living society that fought back against the Infection that threatened to poison the whole world, and the humans who had taken advantage of it in the worst kind of way. It was a safe haven, a little pocket of life that you had never known before arriving alongside Ellie and Joel, close to a year ago.

But it didn’t change you.

It didn’t change anything about the world outside of the walls, either. The world was still infested with fungus, and full to the brim of immoral assholes who would love nothing more than to tear Jackson apart.

You couldn’t help but remain on edge, even as Ellie and Joel slowly began to relax into the life of somewhat normalcy. Every time you tried to just calm down and enjoy life, you felt overwhelmed with images of people destroying this place. You were sure it wouldn’t be able to last, nothing ever did.

It was the reason you were so eager to go on patrols, to be allowed the gun in your hands as your horse trotted along the routes that members of Jackson frequented.

So it was no surprise to you when you saw the smoke in the distance, coming from a supposedly abandoned cabin. You weren’t sure who would be in there, whether it’d be Jackson patrollers taking a pit stop, or someone more malicious.

You had been grateful, then, that being in Jackson hadn't made you soft. Your guard was still present, still strong, and you were thankful, especially as you got closer to the cabin. It had become increasingly clear that whoever these people were, they didn’t come from Jackson. The windows were unblocked, and you could see at least three men inside, their faces angled away from where you were staring in.

Nobody in Jackson would be that foolish, you were certain. It was standard procedure to block entrances to wherever you may be laying low, not wanting to risk Infected or hunters sneaking up on you. That open window would have anybody sneaking in with ease, which was why you knew you’d be getting answers.

You had tied up your horse, then, to a tree just out of reach, giving her a comforting pat against the side of her neck.

The next moments had been a blur, crawling through snow and bushes to keep out of sight, all the way until you had reached the open window, finally able to hear their voices carrying through the air. Your gun was gripped tightly in your hand, safety off, and you were ready to shoot first, answer later, before you caught wind of their words.

It had you freezing, eyebrows furrowed, and you recall the way misted breath had left you.

“They’ll all pay, Sid. That’s what we’re here for, ain’t it?” One of them had laughed, and you had heard the pat of him hitting presumably Sid on the shoulder.

“What? You think those assholes are gonna let us kill three of their own?”

“Hey, that stupid girl killed one of ours first. An eye for an eye.” The first voice responded, much angrier than his first comment had been, and you had realised then that this seemed… personal.

“They killed David, Sid. We ain’t about to let that slide!” A third voice spoke up, lower and much more vengeful when he uttered the name. Your mind had been racing, going through the likelihood that this was all a coincidence, and that they weren’t here for Ellie. For you. For Joel.

You were climbing through the window before you could think better of it, boots thumping harshly against the wooden floor and drawing all of their attention. You had grabbed the nearest guy before they could even make a move, your gun pressed to his head.

“Weapons on the floor.” You had hissed, pushing the metal harder against the man you held as they hesitated. “Now.”

“Alright, girl, jus’ calm down now!” One of the men, Sid, you figured, said, nodding towards his companion and dropping his pistol and rifle to the ground. You had jerked your chin, and kept your eyes sharp as they begrudgingly kicked away the weapons, out of reach.

Your hand had gripped the arm of the man in front of you as he held a knife, poised to strike you with it. “I wouldn’t.” The knife slipped to the floor as you twisted his wrist, and he cursed as you kicked it away, towards the window you had entered through. “What the fuck do you want? Why are you here?” Your voice had been dark, full of anger and a not so subtle threat.

“We just want the girl, okay? She killed one of ours.” Sid told you, his brows furrowed as he clearly tried to repress the anger in his expression.

“Where are you from?” You asked then, awaiting confirmation of your worst fears. You had repeated your question when they hesitated, pressing the gun harder against the head of the man below you, ignoring his wince.

“Silver Lake! It’s—it’s in Colorado!”

Your blood had felt like it was frozen, dragging through your veins at a speed so slow it physically hurt. You had swallowed, something in your eyes setting as you nodded, jaw clenched.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

The wind had numbed your limbs as soon as you stepped foot back outside, blood drying against your skin in the harsh weather.

Your horse was exactly where you’d left her, and she stayed quiet as you claimed back on the saddle, making your way back in the direction of Jackson with more supplies than you’d left with. The ride there was a complete blur, something inside of you just as numb, though not from the wind.

Concerned voices reached your ears when the gates opened, people reaching for you as you slipped off of the horse, patting her neck before someone took her back to the stables. “‘M fine.” You grumbled, stepping away from somebody as they reached hands towards you.

“Are you hurt?” They asked, hands stilled in the air, prepared to reach towards you again.

You shook your head, something fumbling from your lips about going home, and you set off before they could question you further. The journey blurred together, just the sound of your footsteps as you looked for the familiar road that was Rancher Street. You hadn’t fully registered the stares on you as you trekked through the heart of Jackson, finally reaching the house you were meant to call home.

“Joel?” You called, stepping into the house, the backpack and gear on your back being set down beside the door. When he didn’t answer, you frowned, knowing he wasn’t on any jobs this evening.

You made your way up the stairs, avoiding the fourth step that creaked when you step foot on it, and looked through the rooms, one by one. When you finally found the man, he was hunched over his woodwork desk, his mostly-deaf ear facing toward the doorway in which you stood.

“Joel,” You breathed, something of relief finding you as you saw he was fine, just working away in his own world. You were going to say something else, but were stopped by the way he looked over at you.

“Shit,” He said, standing immediately and making his way to you with quick steps. “Are you okay? What happened?” Joel asked, furrowing his brows when you didn’t answer him, rather stepping into his arms and gripping onto him like your life depended on it. He held on to the back of your head, holding you close, and couldn’t help but frown as you sagged in his arms.

He called your name, unable to do anything but be more confused and concerned by the second when you could only shake your head.

It takes him more than a few moments to realise that the blood staining you isn’t your own, and that brings along another realisation. Your despondency translates what happened for you, so you have no need to fill him in with words.

This is something Joel Miller knows all too well.

The disassociation afterwards is a powerful thing, but what comes after that stage isn’t any better. There are struggles ahead of you, he knows, and he knows those struggles well.

He holds you tighter, arms firm around you, and waits.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

▹—taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @fariylixie0915 @faceache111 @randomhoex @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @soobsdior @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being (pedro) please let me know if you want removing or adding!

[miwiheroes]

The Love Monologue + El's Arc

This is another post going onto my byler slides :)))

So today I wanted to talk about how the Love monologue is not a closer to El's arc like a lot of Milkvan shippers think it was. To me, a lot of them seem to look at this monologue in a black and white way - she was about to die and Mike spoke to her and then she escaped the vines so that means he loves her and she needed him to say it. This take is very surface level and barely seems to acknowledge all that El has been through in S4, instead just taking note of how she's interacted with Mike.

She's been apart from Mike this whole time for a reason - she needs to figure out who she is, she needs to learn to love herself. To me, that is her main arc in the entire show. Finding a family who loves her unconditionally, but also finding the strength to love herself instead of pleading for kindness from others.

Her arc with Papa in this show, to me, clearly goes:

Papa uses El to get what he wants: To find a gate to the UD to find Henry

He manipulates her into doing this by only showing her the love she needs when she does what he wants: Locks her away when she refuses to use her powers. Shows love when she improves her powers.

In s4, he poses himself as the only one who would ever accept her for causing everything: Takes her into the lab but still blames her for being manipulated by Henry. Implying she needs him for her own sense of self-worth.

In the end she says that he is in fact the monster and she is not to blame: Therefore meaning she doesn't need outward love from Papa to believe she is useful.

Papa had trapped her with a collar. When he's almost dead in the desert at the Byers-Hopper reunition thing, he is the one to open back up the collar. He says I'm proud of you. He says I've only ever wanted to help you. But this isn't as an act of love. It's all an act of self-preservation - just like all the other times he 'showed' love towards her. It was all for his gain. He hoped that she still had some guilt inside her to save him. He hoped she still had that desire for him to validate her inside him.

But she doesn't. She walks away. She says goodbye as an act of self-love. She doesn't need him anymore, she's not guilty about feeling like the monster anymore.

And since Papa is literally paralleled with Mike in the same Season?

Well. We can say that her arc with him is very different, but similar but in the sense that Mike gives her normalcy, makes her feel good about her powers but only when they save people or don't hurt anyone. He doesn't do it on purpose, but he inadvertently makes El feel like she needs his approval at the beginning of the season.

Mike's not an abusive figure, but her old abusive childhood means she pleads for unconditional love from Mike in order to calm her insecurities about being a Monster.

She creates an ideal version of herself for Mike at the beginning of this season because she doesn't have powers anymore which is what he puts her on a pedestal for, and continues to. Even during the monologue.

When that ideal image is shattered by her attacking Angela, Mike shows his disgust. And she breaks down, revealing why she felt the need to create the idealised version: she wanted Mike to love her. And why did she want her to love him? So she doesn't feel like a monster which is how Brenner made her feel. FUCK MAN-

She needs to stop tying her self-worth to men.

Anyways, so what I'm saying through all this is that El, after all that was said and done with Papa, it should be clear to the audience now that she doesn't need outward love to make her feel like she isn't a monster. She needs self-love.

Now, I wanted to point out something that I find interesting. In the scene in SBP where Mike and El joke around and then El gets kind of serious: I believe she was going to let him down easy and she knew he was going to as well.

Hear me out. Watch this scene. Can you image this carrying onto end up being Mike saying "I love you" at the end?

Mike's facial expressions of sadness and remorse, like he's about to apologise instead. El's faces of quiet sadness at the mention of their fight (it's a fight you can't come back from remember) - and how she says 'I missed you' like she's trying to cheer him up before saying something?

He breathes a sigh of relief because she's not mad. Meaning: he can apologise instead of feeling the need to do what she was mad at him for not doing!!! Now that he knows she's not mad at him for the fight, he can now begin to talk to her about the truth and "explain" himself.

The music has quiet, wistful, almost bittersweet notes to it that indicate not something hopeful like an I love you that we 'wanted'.

If this was supposed to be an "I love you" moment, then why did him saying it later seem like such a big deal? Why did Will need to be the one to push him to do it?

And besides, he gets interrupted, leaving the viewers to guess what they were actually going to do, making his love monologue seem different to what he was actually going to say here. And we know that without Will, the monologue would never have happened.

So now, we get to the monologue.

This is what we know already: the conclusion of El's arc with Papa in this season is her not needing him to feel good about herself and feel validated. She lets him go. Then, she meets up with Mike and starts a conversation that seems bittersweet rather than about them loving each other. Mike also suspects that El doesn't need him anymore - but Will, not knowing about El's true feelings or anything, sacrifices his own feelings to save their relationship and says Mike is the heart of the party and El's saviour.

So when Will again tells him this in a crucial moment where it seems like al is lost - Mike reverts what he was going to do in the earlier quieter scene and instead tells her what he believes he should.

And this is her reaction:

Yeah. I have another post on here about how this moment isn't supposed to read as satisfying or an amazing turning point, but from everything in El's story this season, Mike telling her that he loves her just......doesn't feel like what she needs???

In this scene, she's literally being told by Henry that it is all her fault that he is the way he is, manipulating her into thinking that she is at fault for even the mind flayer and Will's disappearance etc. Then he tells her that he's now going to kill all her friends because they've all already lost, so he makes her "watch" as he kills Max.

The whole time as El's listening to Mike talking, she has her eyes closed, she looks extremely afraid still, and nothing is happening. The vines are still tightening around her throat for like 3 minutes of this monologue - We have learned from her arc this season that she is trying to realise that she is not a monster by herself. She doesn't need Papa to think she is useful, she doesn't need Mike to love her to love herself.

Which is why the love monologue doesn't work until El looks at Max and is reminded to Fight.

Compare the pic of El above this one to this pic of El. They have practically the same expression except her eyes are open. The first pic is from the beginning of the monologue and this one is from the end. El's emotions never fucking changed until she looked over at Max. She was afraid the whole time - and then boom. Not anymore:

She was able to get herself out of the vines because she is reminded to fight and that she is good at fighting - she uses self-confidence to get out. Not Mike's words about her being a Superhero which overexaggerate and idealise her again just like in the love monologue.

This girl:

Is in a completely different place than this girl:

So that's why Mike saying the exact same things about being a superhero does not mean the monologue at face value is a good arc closer for El this season. Well, clearly not for the world, because El "lost" which are Mike's own words he later says at the end of the season.

Hopefully this made sense <3

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

I know I know we love hard daddy Kento who puts us in our place, but I just can’t stop thinking of Nanami who can’t help but giving him woman all the power.

CW- sub Nanami rhetoric, dom!gn!reader, hair pulling (kento rec.), a lil degrading but he likes it so :), will elaborate more on this subject later go sub Nanami go!!!!

A/N- this went on longer than it should have lol, but I want to make a full fledged version of sub!nan before I get down and dirty but hope you guys like has been on my mind the last couple days

This was meant to be a short Drabble

You and Kento knew of each other when both of you were in school, merely peers among peers. Then he left the Jujutsu world for good., I mean you couldn’t blame him. You never really did pay any mind to him, he was just a classmate, right? Wrong.

He came back, different and he was nothing like the Kento you remember, he was all man now: but something lay hidden behind those eyes of his.

you definitely are not what he remembers, but his stomach still turns in knots when he stands next to you; he would have thought the schoolboy crush would have died out by now.

But, evidently not.

He tried his hardest to push it away, his usual nonchalant demeanor turning into a cool exterior. You passed it off as him being an asshole just passing him by in any school related activities. You couldn’t lie and say there wasn’t an attraction to Kento but, anytime you did try to interact with him, he would act standoffish as if being in your presence was affecting him somehow.

So then you started acting the same and god, did people notice it.

You would act sweet one second and then if Nanami were to walk into the room your attitude would do a complete 180.

Then, you got paired up as partners on his first mission back. Great.

You don’t really remember how the two of you came to be what you are today, maybe it was one too many missions together, possibly the one maybe two accidental passing touches hat set a spark in both of you, maybe it was the countless nights you spent in a cheap hotel after a mission; both too tired to go home. But, something still set unspoken between the two of you and you just couldn’t place your finger on it.

You don’t remember how the two of you came to be what you are now. But you do remember something. A mission. It was a simple one. Go into the abandoned building, exorcise the supposedly low-grade curse, all done, hands mostly clean, and home before dark. But this mission was different. Kento almost died, trying to save you. You were so angry, angry at him for putting himself in harm's way for you, angry at the higher ups who lied about the strength of the curse you exorcized, barely with your lives.

You don’t really remember how you two came to be. But you do remember all that anger boiled up to a certain point and after you got done stitching him up in the first cheap motel you could find you just started hounding him.

How could he be so reckless?

How could the higher ups be so stupid?

How could he be so stupid?

That you could have handled it.

And that if he ever tried to do something like that again you’d—

You looked at Kento in the middle of your scolding, Kento looking down with shame? embarrassment? you don’t know what but it made you mad; Why wasn’t he looking at you?

Something took over you as your nose twitched and your lips formed a snarl, your hands found his hair; tugging on his gold strands, soft against your fingers. You couldn’t help the sadistic look that took over your face when you saw the pink tinge of blush staining his slender cheeks, and you definitely couldn’t miss the way his hand covered his crotch; pathetically trying to cover the massive hard on that strains against his pants.

“Are you serious?” Was all you said voice condescending and light, chuckling to your own devices, pulling his hair again, he tries to keep the moan at bay; but the way he gropes himself through his pants tells you otherwise. You lick your bottom lip watching the way he tries to suppress his own pleasure.

You do it again and again until his lips break and the most horribly erotic sound breaks in the air. Kento Nanami whimpered. Your mouth was in a wide smile, teeth showing like a hyena, you couldn’t help but laugh tugging at the strands once more before making him look at you.

“You’re a little fucking freak aren’t ya’?” You asked. And you want to know what that motherfucker said—no what he did, he moaned, fucking moaned. his eyes trailing off of you all dazed out. Your nose twitches again like a demented bunny, you grip his jaw harshly, not to cause pain but to remind him to look at you.

“I asked you a question, Kento? It’s not nice to not answer people.” You toy with him gripping his scalp even tighter, making him wince. He opens his mouth, saliva strands spreading with them, he nods his head rapidly.

“Yes,” he speaks desperately “yes I am.” He says through squished cheeks, his glasses were beginning to fog up and you could see the embarrassment taint his fair skin and it just makes you burn with anticipation.

“Yes you are….” Your tongue prodes the inside of your cheek, debating on what to do with him.

An unhumorous laugh that comes out more like a pathetic huff, his eyes shooting back towards you teetering on the edge of every move you make.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

[reveriederayne]

𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ?

Remus Lupin x Reader; 1.170 words

A/N: so a lot of the fandom likes to think of Remus as this Casanova of Hogwarts that gets everyone but also deeply hates himself and thinks he can’t have anything good. Good characterisation, not my cup of tea, so here’s how I like to imagine his character. Also as someone who appeared as if I hated people because of my previous introverted nature this was a fun idea to write.

CW: Reader appearing as mean; Remus’s pov (point of view); Reader is friends with Barty; Reader and Barty are in Ravenclaw; let me know if I need to add anything else !

There was one constant emotion on Remus’s mind, through all of his life as far as he could remember, and that was anxiety. How could it not be when he became a werewolf every full moon and thus a danger to everyone around him ? Not only that but he could put himself in danger if anyone were to ever find out about his problem, especially when he became a student there and he had friends for the first time. His anxiety probably doubled with that, tripled when they started getting suspicious of him.

But that was all in the past. That was kid Remus, and he finally grew up, his priorities as well. What was he getting anxious about now ? Is that the only girl he seemed to like appeared to be feeling the exact opposite for him. Remus was not the most sought after guy in his friend group, with his quiet nature and his numerous scar that decorated his face that made people a bit wary of him, but still, people weren’t out right mean to him. Which is why you almost completely ignoring him, and sending him glares, when you two were assigned to do a project along his three other friends made him loose his head, trying to figure out what did he ever do for you to hate him this much.

“I just don’t understand what happened ! Did I do something to her in our previous years and don’t remember ?” He was pacing in his dorm, clutching his head so hard the other three boys were afraid he would rip off his hair.

“Maybe she’s just shy. Don’t beat yourself up mate” Said James reassuringly.

“Shy ! With the glares she was sending me ?!”

James threw a look to Petter, both boys sighing at the sight of their friend. Sirius didn’t even bother paying that much attention, knowing that any attempt of comforting him would be like talking to a very panicked and deaf baby deer, instead comfortably laying in his bed and drawing. “You should talk to Junior then. He knows her like the back of his hand, will probably know what you did to her”

At that Remus stopped, letting his hands fall (surprisingly without his hair) down to his sides to questioningly stare at Sirius “Crouch ? The crazy Ravenclaw guy in our year ?”

“Yeah. Their families are close, unlikely friendship sparked, same house, yada yada… Go talk to him” He waved his wand at the door, opening it successfully. The scared boy took it as a sign that he was meant to investigate now and promptly left the dorm, and as a precaution Sirius closed, lest his friend decided to come back.

Remus had one advantage when it came to his anxiety, and it was that he could easily mask it, or at least he didn’t need to try very hard to subdue it. What guy full of scars and taller than everyone else would appear on the verge of anxiety attack when asking if he could talk to a guy along while pulling the most bitch face man kind has ever known ?

Barty almost look scared if it wasn’t for the gigantic smile adorning his face as he was left with Remus alone in the corridor. He leaned against the wall, getting comfortable for whatever discussion the Gryffindor was gonna put him through.

“Lupin ! What do I owe the displeasure ?”

He stayed quiet for a while, not really knowing how to interact with the boy in front of him. He never talked to him prior, barely saw him due to different friend groups, and weird rumours about him didn’t help gain the confidence for a talk.

“You’re… I heard you’re friends with-“

“Yes yes, we’re friends. What about it ?” he interrupted, letting out a sigh as if talking to him was already exhausting enough.

“What did I do for her to hate me ?” He let out, surprising himself at how quickly he got to the point. Though considering he was talking about his crush that seemed to not stand him, understandable.

He also surprised Barty, who looked at him like he just said complete gibberish and not actual words. He put his hands on the taller boy’s shoulder, bringing him down and effectively bringing him on the same eye level.

“Are you… are you blind Lupin ? Do you need glasses ? Or maybe you need therapy ?”

He did need it, but not for what he just said, he was sure of it. “What ? She clearly hates me. She completely ignored me during our group project”

The raven haired boy slowly blinked, before letting him go, looking at the ground like a concerned mother. “Just… just talk to her. God, you’re insufferable” And then he just walked away, no further explanation, which left Remus even more confused. Why would you ignore him then if you didn’t hate him, even sending weird looks every time he tried to talk to you ?

Well he went to you next for his answers. Which caused even more anxiety. Truly Remus would need a week of doing nothing to prevent grey hairs from growing by the time he’s twenty for the stressful day he was having.

Thankfully he decided to talk to you when you were alone in the library, his sacred little place, that he thought would maybe give him a bit more confidence. It wasn’t the case, but a man could dream. Instead much like Barty he blabbered and then asked not so subtly why you hated him.

“Pardon me ?”

You looked like a lost kitten. Confused and unsure if you should even be here. It made you look cute to him. Though probably not the best thing to think in this situation.

“Just because I don’t pay attention to you and your loud friends doesn’t mean I hate you. You’re not the center of the universe Lupin”

Now it would look like you disliked him to anyone else. But Remus saw how you dicked your head, how your cheeks were taking a darker shade and how nervously you jit your lip.

Tentatively, he ducked his head as well, whispering in your ear. “Can I assume that you… fancy me then ?”

He almost regretted asking that. You were practically stranger, you didn’t show him any signs of liking him, and he was now going to ruin this entire relationship before it even started and then-

“Yeah… I just didn’t know how to process it. People are not my strong suit”

“Oh” Well that changed everything…

“Oh. Well it’s okay. They’re not mine either…” He nervously looked down at you. You didn’t seem anxious or nervous like he was. Just a bit confused. He liked it. He really like it, and you, especially you.

“I know a place where there isn’t much people where we can do… whatever couples do ?

And there was a smile. A cute little smile that made his heart beat a thousand miles with the feeling that it could jump out of his chest.

© reveriederayne; every work posted on this blog is my own. I do not give anyone permission to copy, translate, or repost my works anywhere under any circumstance.

[coltermorning]

A Standing Offer Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: When your car ends up with a minor problem, you’re forced to interact with Arthur again.

Author’s Notes: Part two of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, eventual smut

AO3 Link

~

A Standing Offer

Word count: 3418

Part Two

“That aren’t gonna buff out, Artur.”

Arthur was doing his best to ignore the Irishman at his side, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead for his efforts. He was trying hard to get your bumper back in working order, but it was proving more difficult than he’d thought.

“What is it they call insanity? Doing the same ting over again and expecting different results?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Arthur grumbled.

“Exactly what you should doing there.”

Arthur stood so fast that Sean jumped back to avoid him. Arthur laughed at him. “What you so jumpy for? I’m just getting another cover for this buffer.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Sean said. “Very funny.”

“Unless you think I have reason to beat your teeth in,” Arthur suggested.

“Me? Never,” Sean answered, following Arthur along as he made for the part he was looking for.

“Shit, there’s reason enough to give you a good beating every day,” Arthur said, scanning the shelves on the wall. He found the right cover for the buffer machine and took it off the shelf, feeling along it to see if it would do the trick. He wasn’t quite pleased, but it was worth trying at least.

“You always this nasty toward your friends?” Sean teased.

Arthur finally turned to him. “To my coworker who won’t go work his job, keeping me from mine in the process? Yes.”

“Ahh, you love me though. Besides, I know what it is. You’re just hung up on that girl. What’s her name? Ruby?”

Arthur really could have punched him then, and John and Javier too for ever mentioning you in the first place.

“I ain’t hung up on anyone. Now go do the job you’re hired to do before I fire you myself.”

Sean let out a bark of a laugh. “You wish you could, English.” But, thankfully, he let Arthur be and went back to the old Chevy he had been assigned a week ago.

Even though Arthur’s shadow was gone, he found himself even more aggravated when he continued buffing out the bumper. The breaks in the plastic that resulted when the piece bent back into its proper shape weren’t going anywhere.

Arthur put the buffer down and rocked back on his knees, hands on his hips. This weren’t good. Either you’d need a new bumper, or you would have to come up here and confirm that you were all right with the damage. The second one was cheaper, but Arthur wanted no reason for the boys at the shop to keep ribbing him over you. It didn’t make any goddamn sense, as far as he was concerned. John and Javier were the two idiots who had cornered you in that club. He’d barely even spoken to you in comparison. But no, all he’d heard since was how sweet on you he was, volunteering to fix up your car cheap. He wished he’d never even offered.

Truth be told, Arthur didn’t quite know why he’d done it. There was the obvious, that he felt bad for all the damage his truck had caused that you would have to pay for. But beyond that, he’d told himself the minute he left the Rouge that he would block all thought of you off. True, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night, and also true, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d spoken to him. But it was your job to act as you had toward him. He didn’t think he’d ever have reason to see you again anyway. When he got out of his truck in all that buzzing traffic, the last person he’d expected was you, shouting at some poor girl enough to make her look like she was shrinking into her clothes. He was so amused by your change in behavior that he’d told himself right then and there to be done with it all. He couldn’t fall for a stripper who had only paid him any mind because she was getting paid to do so. So, he’d told you the damage, determined to leave it there, then the words that he would help you came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. And he’d regretted them every moment since.

Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, knowing either way, the shape the car was in at least warranted a call. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

~

A number you didn’t have saved in your phone crossed your screen, distracting you from your reality TV. You would normally damn whoever it was and ignore it, but a lot of random numbers had been calling you since moving and starting a new job. You groaned loudly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? This is Arthur.”

Well, well. You didn’t like the excitement that bolted through you one bit.

“Hey,” you said simply, not wanting to make this some big deal. Simple phone call, back to your show.

“I got a problem with your car.”

Just perfect. Couldn’t you have one relaxing day?

“What is it?”

“I got the front bumper back in place, but the breaks in the plastic won’t buff out.”

“So…”

“So you’ll either have to keep it like this or order a new bumper.”

“Oh.” That was an easy decision. “It doesn’t affect driving it, does it?”

“No, just cosmetic.”

You grinned at his use of the word cosmetic. “Easy enough. Leave it like it is.”

“Can do,” he said. And, just before you were about to hang up and go back to your show, “I’ll need you to come look at the damage and sign off on it.”

Christ. You really didn’t need to go see this man in person again. You would have to go back up there to get your car anyway, but you were hoping Arthur would already be busy with another car by then. “Can’t you just sign it for me? Take this as my personal attestation that I won’t sue you?”

“Afraid not,” he said simply.

“Ugh. Fine. When do I need to come up there?”

“It’s ready now. Anytime before five.”

“Great,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “Be there soon.”

“Bye,” he said, and hung up before you could.

“Bye,” you said in a sing-song voice, tossing your phone across the couch. This was just not what you needed right now. You were thrilled the car was done so soon, but you were determined to get this man out of your head. Going to see him at his shop, where he dressed like masculinity given form, would not help. But you sucked it up and called an uber anyway, at least glad that you wouldn’t have to inconvenience Janiyah by bumming a ride anymore.

The entire ride to the shop, you watched the traffic from the back seat and did your best to hold your tongue. But truly, you would have to move closer to the club or something. This road rage was taking years off your life.

Before you could do something stupid enough to ruin your uber rider rating, you arrived at Arthur’s shop. It was named Van der Linde Auto Shop—a mouthful of a name that you’d told them to change upon learning it. Because of it, though, you’d learned that Arthur didn’t own the place, that his last name was Morgan, and way too many other personal things about the guys who worked here. John and Javier included. The owner hadn’t been in the last time, and neither had the rest of their little gang of merry men. But today as you walked up in broad daylight, the place was crawling with them.

“Y/N,” someone called out from your right, and you squinted into the sunlight to find John. There laid another problem—because of the business with the cars and the cops, they now knew your real name.

John loped over, pausing his work on a ridiculously jacked-up truck you had a sneaking suspicion was his.

“Hey. Arthur’s just inside. Said to let him know when you got here.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, curious over John’s enthusiasm. You wondered if it was due to flattery or guilt. Most men couldn’t help feeling one or the other toward you after meeting you a second time.

“This way,” he said, sure as ever. You followed him in through the shop’s big bay doors, thinking he was likely feeling both. But you refrained from calling him on it, remembering the woman he and Arthur had been arguing about at the club. No need to insert yourself there.

“Arthur! Y/N’s here,” John called out to the floor.

You couldn’t see Arthur but heard him call out, “Give me a minute. Almost done here.”

You turned to John and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

The scars across his face stretched as he smiled back. “No problem. See you.” Then he turned to go, and you could only laugh under your breath at his confidence.

“Yeah, see you.”

Wanting to get out of here as quick as you could, you went looking for Arthur. There were cars in the way and four other men you could see working—Javier and three others you’d never met—but no Arthur. Javier waved at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You didn’t even want to know, just waved back. But you did spot your car near the back of the shop, so you made for it. Only, you saw sudden movement by your feet and stopped, taking in the sight of…holy fuck.

There were two work boots and a very familiar pair of well-fitting jeans sticking out from under the car at your side. Arthur was on his back on one of those stupid roller things, and the way he reached up to work on the underside of the car revealed a sliver of very chiseled, deliciously sweaty abdomen. You had two seconds to imagine your tongue on those muscles before you mentally kicked yourself and behaved.

You nudged one of his boots. “So, should I come down there, or..?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he pushed himself out from under the car, rising up and putting those abs to work. You forced yourself not to watch them. Even though the rest of him looked just as good in a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest. He had black streaks across his arms and hands from whatever he had been doing with the car, and he started to wipe them away with a dirty rag.

“What part of ‘give me a minute’ didn’t you get?” he asked, though he sported a smug look as he said it.

You just shrugged. “You look done to me.” Not just done—hot as fuck, you thought to yourself. The way he cleaned his hands with that rag made his forearm muscles turn over, bulging. Something about the movement and the black shirt as opposed to the white one he had been in the last time...

Now that you took him all in, you realized he was undoubtedly threatening in a way that ran past the seams of his shirt and down his coarse arm muscles to his able hands. This man was barely-contained power. And yet, you still wanted it all for yourself.

“I am done,” he said. “But make no mistake, if I weren’t, you’d be waitin’.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl,” you replied lazily, easily. It was so easy to flirt with him you made a point to keep the chit chat to a minimum from then on.

He smirked and threw the rag on top of the car, rolling the contraption he’d been lying on back under the car with his boot. “Car’s over here,” he said, leading the way. You watched his ass in those jeans again, not really caring to divert your gaze. If this was the last time you saw him, it was best to take in the view.

He stopped just before your car and pointed at the front bumper. “Scratches are just there.”

You leaned down to get a better look and were pleasantly surprised. They really weren’t bad. You certainly wouldn’t be buying a whole new bumper just to fix a few pieces of fractured plastic. They were noticeable, but the thing was drivable and had two properly-shaped bumpers again. That was the best you could ask for at the price he was offering.

You straightened up and turned to him, and his gaze flicked back to your face. From where it had been on your ass.

This was a dangerous game the two of you were playing.

“Looks fine to me,” you said. “Where do I sign?”

He just grunted in response, motioning for you to follow him. You really wished he wasn’t so gruff. Rude, really. If he’d just accepted your dance back at the club, he would be gone from your thoughts entirely. But no. He had to make things difficult, like he knew you were a sucker for a challenge.

Arthur led you back to the shop’s corner office, one you noted was walled with glass. Likely so whoever was in here could see what was happening on the shop floor, though your mind went to less innocent things, like what all those workers would think of what a mess Arthur could make of you on this very desk. You shook that thought off before it could take root and looked to Arthur. He had found the form he wanted from the filing cabinet and laid it down on the desk, beginning to fill out the details of the repair. You watched his shoulders and back muscles work against the tiny weight of the pen on paper. This man really was a sight to admire.

“There, if you’ll just…sign there,” he said finally, flipping the paper around for you to sign. He held the pen out to you, and you impulsively tried to catch his gaze as you took it, but he wouldn’t look up. Coward.

You set your purse down in the chair at your side and signed. When you finished and handed him back the pen, he gathered up all the paperwork and the receipt. Then you paid and knew it was time to go or else risk getting hung up on this idiot.

“Here’s the keys,” he said, handing them over. “Try your best to drive a little better from now on.”

“Shut up,” you quipped. “Like you wouldn’t be happy to have me back in.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his face tingeing red. “Go before I charge you for keeping me from my job.”

You gave him one last long look, memorizing that handsome face, before turning on your heel. “Thank you, Arthur.”

All he said in response as he followed you back to the floor was, “Be sure to put it in reverse to back out of here. That’s the one with the ‘R’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you shot back, though you gave him a smile and a laugh as you did, secretly hoping that just as it usually did at the Rouge, the look would linger.

~

It took you until you got out of your car back at your apartment to realize you didn’t have your purse. It, and your phone, and your wallet, were still sitting in that goddamn chair at Arthur’s shop.

You let out a groan and slapped a hand to your forehead, debating turning right around to go get it. You would need it for work tonight. But you also didn’t want to see Arthur again. You’d spent the entire ride home cursing yourself a fool for how you’d acted toward him at the shop. It was infuriating, really, how you just wanted to be done with him, but seeing him made you turn into the world’s biggest, most obnoxious flirt. You could not get involved with this man. It went against every instinct you had in your professional life. So, you did what any sane person would do when faced with such a problem and avoided it. You stomped upstairs and slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaving that problem for a later, much wiser, version of yourself.

After eating a ridiculous amount of junk food and bingeing reality TV for the rest of the day, you finally gave in and left a little earlier than usual to go get your purse back before work. You only hoped that John or Javier or literally anyone other than Arthur would be the one to retrieve it for you when you got there.

Upon arriving, not only were you disappointed, you were debating turning right back around and leaving. It was late enough on a Wednesday night that everyone else had left for the day, and only Arthur’s gray truck remained sitting just in front of the office. Fuck.

All you could do was go in and get your shit and leave with as few words as possible, and that’s exactly what you aimed to do as you parked beside him and walked up to the door. But then you saw him through the glass office windows walking around the shop carrying some power tool, lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat away. You watched that glorious body in silence, not moving a muscle to go inside as he used the tool to saw a piece off of a car. Fuck him and his stupid sculpted body.

Before you could move, he looked up and saw you standing there. He startled a little but set the tool down and walked over to you, opening the door. “Jesus, you trying to scare the shit out of me?”

“Sorry,” you managed. “I was just…I left my purse.”

“Oh. Where?”

You pointed inside the shop to the chair that held the tiny bundle of leather you could have burned up with the spite you felt toward it.

He held the door open wider for you and motioned for you to come in.

“Sorry about that,” you said honestly. “Didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”

He huffed a laugh. “You sure about that?”

You stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed the room and took your purse, handing it to you in an annoyingly courteous way that made you think get out now before you do something stupid.

“Just that I’m starting to think you like my company,” he said, meeting your eye with a smile so charming that it made your flirting look pitiful in comparison.

You were lost on a comeback and settled for a simple, “I’m just forgetful is all.” Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth—he had distracted you into forgetting your purse earlier.

“Uh huh,” he quipped. “And you just happened to be looking my way when I spotted you watching me work through that window, right?”

You felt your face heat. “Something like that.”

He really smiled now. “‘Course.”

He let the silence stretch enough for you to feel a panic you normally never did when it came to men.

“Well, thank you,” you said, turning for the door. “I owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. We’re even,” he said as he stepped forward and opened the door for you.

You passed him and walked into the night air, about to do the very thing you knew you shouldn’t. But you did, because he was a good person under all that toughness.

“Not even a dance?” you quipped, turning on him with a raised eyebrow.

His face hardened, his jaw clenching just a heartbeat long enough for you to know the comment had its desired effect. But then he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want to know why I turned you down before? Why I will every time you ask?”

Your heart started racing in a way no man had made it race in years. “Why?”

“Because I don’t pay for it. If I get what I want from you, it ain’t going to be for any money.”

You just stared at him. He stood straight and let the door fall in, retreating back into his shop. “Night,” he said without looking back. And you were left watching him go, for once the one allowing a man’s words to linger.

[cpvnksabm]

you know, in general i am the #1 defender of ricky potts as disability rep (before the erasure rewrites) especially when it comes to his pre-cyclone backstory. but occasionally i do remember the details about ricky's parents, specifically, how stupid it is. i spend most of my time in this fandom internally screaming "stop haphazardly changing rickys backstory, youre erasing the parts that made him special to me" but this part is one of few things in the whole musical that i actually do want changed. because if you take it at face value it makes no sense at all.

direct quote from the script:

"when Richard lost his power of speech, the Potts family took a vow of silence; usually communicating in a series of strange gestures that only they understood. The only time they interacted with one another was when they read comics, or fed the cats… they had fourteen cats."

there is so much weird shit going on here.

first of all. vow of silence? i have never in my life heard of that being someone's response to having a nonspeaking child. i am not nonverbal myself but based on what ive heard from people who are, i understand that not being able to just talk out loud for ease of communication, it complicates every interaction... so why would ricky's parents, presumably non-disabled (the term "vow of silence" definitely implies a choice and not like, selective mutism or anything), do that voluntarily?

no seriously. why. the script makes no attempt to explain their reasoning behind this or how ricky feels about it. why did they do this. is it a symbolic gesture? an attempt to better understand what their son is going through? i can't see it helping ricky in any tangible way. in fact, not being able to have his parents stand up for him (especially as a disabled person who is chronically ignored, especially as a child) would probably make his life harder.

i'm going to guess that the reasoning behind this out-of-universe, the general concept the writers were trying to communicate, was something like "one of the problems with how society treats disabled people is that sometimes they get too much support, and people make really drastic life changes to give them help that they don't even need"...

...and on top of directly contradicting the rest of ricky's backstory ("the most appalling cruelty humanity can muster: complete indifference", anyone?), this is just not true! the idea that disabled people are given/offered "too much" help is a myth and a stereotype. the vast majority of disabled people in real life have less than what they need, and have to struggle to get by. every organisation that is supposed to help disabled people, at every level, is biased toward giving the bare minimum or less - not to giving people more than they need.

to my knowledge, the whole "my son cant speak so im taking a vow of silence" thing, this has just... never happened in real life. not only would it Not Even Help it's just... not an idea that occurs to most parents of nonspeaking children. because why would it? it's ridiculous! the potts family "vow of silence" is just a ridiculous overexaggeration of the concept of "parents of disabled children make sacrifices for their children", and i dont like it.

now, if you want you can handwave all this away with "yeah this would be insane and ultimately unhelpful, but the musical never says that it is helpful, so for all we know ricky doesnt like it and it isnt good and his parents are just insane for doing that". and if that was the case, it would kind of fit with a recurring theme in the musical of performative efforts to "help" ricky that actually just make him more miserable. although i would say that a literal vow of silence is waaaay too big of a life commitment for parents to realistically do performatively. but then again, ricky's parents are clearly already odd people, with the 14 cats and the "strange gestures", so maybe it's just their characterisation...

and that reminds me. why the hell are they communicating with "strange gestures that only they understand".

i think most of the fandom interprets this as referencing ASL. but based on the description that's not what ASL is. sign languages are languages, with their own complex grammar, vocabulary, etc. they are not "strange gestures". this is like if noel's lament ended with our Objective Omniscient Narrator Karnak saying "monique and the priest communicated with a series of strange sounds that only they understood" and then they just spoke regular ass french.

but of course the script never says they're using ASL, and to my knowledge no production has ever actually done ASL for the "gestures", that part is really just fanon.

if you interpret the "strange gestures that only they understood" wording more literally - there is such a thing as home sign! home sign is a communication system made of gestures, generally not considered a complete language, that develops in households where communicating in language (either spoken language or sign language) is not an option. primarily, this is something that happens to linguistically isolated deaf children. if a child cannot hear well enough to learn & communicate with spoken language, and their parents don't give them an opportunity to learn sign language, they develop their own communication methods.

even this isn't quite what's happening in the musical if you take it literally, though, because home sign is developed by the child, by the child who doesn't have access to language. ricky could be d/Deaf or hard of hearing, which would impact his ability to hear and thus learn spoken language, but there's nothing in the musical to really point to this and so i dont think its what the writers were going for. the phrasing of the "vow of silence" thing implies that it was ricky's parents' choice to develop their own communication method consisting of gestures, rather than just an existing language including the language they presumably all already knew and communicated with prior to the "vow of silence".

this truly just boggles the mind. how did this happen? was there a point where mr potts sat down with the family and said "okay, so when we all take a vow of silence, this gesture will be how we ask each other when the cats food bowl was last fulled"? i will give canon the benefit of the doubt on one thing - while it isnt specified in the script, based on how degenerative (neuromuscular) disorders work in real life, it's likely ricky losing his speech would have been a gradual process rather than an overnight thing, and therefore i suppose the parents could have had enough warning time to develop the basics of a signed conlang. but they could have also used that time to learn an existing sign language, which im sure would have been easier for everyone. or they could have used that time to say "considering english exists in forms that dont require talking out loud (AAC), it would probably be easier to learn that rather than a new language, and also why are we taking a vow of silence anyway, how does that help our kid".

of course we dont know exactly how this language of "strange gestures" came to be. because canon, rather than elaborating on any of this, simply dropped the out-of-context claim on our feet. but depending on exactly how it went down, if you take it seriously, i think it could range from "bizarre form of child abuse/neglect that would have a severe impact on rickys communication and social life for years to come" to "technically harmless but really weird and convoluted".

and while we're on the subject of potential neglect. may i remind you, the last part of the section on ricky's parents:

"The only time they interacted with one another was when they read comics, or fed the cats… they had fourteen cats."

This is, frankly, maddening. it seems to imply that ricky's family ignored him a lot due to his disability which, while depressing, is definitely consistent with the rest of his backstory - being ignored at school/in uranium in general, retreating into his own imagination to cope. and i've said time and time again that the ableism ricky faces, being constantly ignored and condescended to and having to literally die and have his disability be magicked away in the afterlife before anyone actually listens to him, this is the most realistic part of the whole musical.

with that being said uhhh. that ending line might be consistent with the rest of rickys backstory but its NOT consistent with everything else karnak said about rickys parents, as recently as thirty seconds ago! are you telling me these parents took a vow of silence in some sort of weird symbolic solidarity with their kid, went as far as creating their own gestural communication system (/signed conlang) to facilitate communicating through this vow of silence... and then barely interacted with the kid they had sacrificed so much for?

if i take karnak completely at his word here, the only explanation i can come up with is that ricky was the subject of some linguistic experiment that his parents came up with. and frankly im not convinced the experiment is scientifically or ethically sound.

okay, in all seriousness,

i know the potts family is not conducting an unethical linguistic experiment. or at least, i know that is not the intended subtext of the musical. it's possible to come up with contrived situations in which these bizarre decisions would be realistic in-universe, but we all know that ride the cyclone is a work of fiction. and when things are this contrived... the most reasonable explanation is simply "the writers never thought that hard about it".

and that's disappointing! this blatantly nonsensical detail stayed in the musical for years, and apparently nobody thought to be like "hey, does this make sense? should we fact-check this?". this part of rickys backstory stayed the same until his entire backstory was overhauled to remove his disability in 2022 and, tbh, i dont think that was actually that anyone realised this part didnt make sense and tried to fix it, more likely that it just happened to get thrown out while they were doing disability erasure.

everything about this short paragraph indicates the writers being unwilling to research. which is bad writing practice in general and particularly bad when you're writing about disabilities!

i find this particularly disappointing because, as ive said, most of ricky's backstory was very realistic in the old scripts, and surprisingly well done; this is one of the aspects of disability rep where they just, completely dropped the ball. unfortunately, that was years ago, and now rtc has so thoroughly gone off the deep end in terms of disability ""representation"" that it's hardly worth it to nitpick the worst details in the best versions of the script...

but, still, i wanted to share my thoughts on this. it's surprisingly under-discussed in the fandom. i see a lot of people attempting to explain how rtc's disability rep was always flawed, some better than others... and i thought it would be good to go through and actually nitpick what rtc did wrong in the first place so we can all try to do better.

anyway, to the half-dozen people still reading this. fic writers. if you are a stickler for Canon Compliance then please understand that the canon here is nuts. i'm not saying don't put it in your fics, personally i sometimes love to write fics that i call Canon Malicious Compliant, which is when you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge what the author probably meant to say and instead explore the fucked-up explanations of what the author literally did say. i would love to see some fics that explore how ricky would actually feel about the "vow of silence" thing, and how it would impact him & his relationship with his parents, rather than just having it as a background info that isn't acknowledged as the weird thing it clearly is.

alternatively, to the large section of the fandom that is willing to say "I recognize the canon has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, I've elected to ignore it" - can i suggest CODA!Ricky, as in Child Of Deaf Adults, as an alternative headcanon that stays close to the canon while actually making sense? this would explain why his parents use a sign language at home way better than the "their kid cant speak so naturally they took a vow of silence" nonsense. obviously, headcanon what you want, this is the one part of canon that is really so nonsensical you might as well ignore it and treat it as a blank space in which to write whatever hcs you want, i just wanted to suggest one possible (more reasonable) explanation

[patchw0rks]

Ok, reread of scum villain vol. 2 has been accomplished. Here are my thoughts and just things I wanted to note down (disclaimer: make sure to read these knowing the important context that liushen is my favorite ship lol)

I can't get over the Shen-Mu-Liu trio. Those are SQQ's BOYS and watching them interact is very fun. I also love that Mu Qingfang is medicine-pilled in the way that Shen Qingqiu is monster-pilled. Little did we know LQG is actually the most normal of the three

Shen "im just here to cause problems" Qingqiu saying "I know to get my way all i have to do is bat my pretty eyelashes at YQY and he will fold like a house of cards"

SQQ basically telling LQG that he's so strong so he must row the boat, and LQG is just absolutely FUMING because of how attracted he is to SQQ

SQQ referring to LQG as gege ah my heart

More of SQQ causing problems by trying stick Yang Yixuan onto LQG, which I love because you KNOW that in his grief post-Hua Yue City LQG went "fucking WATCH me"

Ngl I've read enough fanfic to realize that people don't really capture LQG's full personality. The usually make him so shy and tsundere that he's barely able to get a word in (Lan Zhan gets similar treatment) but no, he's just as catty as the rest of them

I need to figure out the timeline of how long Shen Yuan had been reading PIDW, it's endlessly important to me

LQG and MQF being like "our beloved little shixiong, please don't fret your pretty little head, just sit there and relax"

There really is some excellent physical comedy in SVSSS, like when SQQ is confronted by LBH and just defenestrates himself. You know that one scene in Angel Beats? Yeah it's exactly that

Qi Qingqi's eyebrows have now been brought up for a second time and it screams gender envy to me. Why are you as a "cis man" admiring a women's eyebrows so thoughtfully? So much to where it's the first thing you bring up about her appearance?

"Why?! Why were two grown men neurotically discussing a pice of clothing while surrounded by staring eyes?" never change Shen Yuan

I'm actually such a simp for Liu Qingge, i'm literally highlighting every mention of him and every word he speaks. I did not appreciate the Liuber my first time reading. He's also so incredibly tsundere "huff puff i can't believe you can't even ride your sword...get on"

Ugh I actually cried while reading the big confrontation. This did not happen my first read, but man it just got me. Also the very subtle POV switch that happens so we don't get any insight into SQQ's thoughts as he prepares to self-detonate

Mushroom Shen Qingqiu!!!! My Beloved!!!!!!! Def one of my favorite parts of the whole series. I think there are so many ways to play around with this character (hence my AU) but also there's this degree of freedom about it where even his internal dialogue is much more loose and less concerned with acting the part

Oh my...he referenced the succubus adventure...

Im sorry how did I completely black out the scene of LQG and SQQ playing hot potato with his corpse?!!?! Remember what I said about physical comedy!!

"Even a few hours ago, he genuinely wouldn't have cared where others (especially those of the same sex) touched him. They could touch wherever they liked, please go ahead" -- Things only said by straight who are 100% comfortable in their sexuality. Yeah. Totally

There are still good moments of seeing SQQ's dissociating himself from the events of the series and just treating everything and everyone as if it weren't "real," and how these thought patterns shift. Once again I think this would be a very fun thing to play around with and explore more

LIU QINGGE!!!! STOP MAKING ME SAD!!!!!!!! HE YEARNS SO MUCH

[athena-the-undestructible]

Time to finally explain my new OCs

Well to start, I have a duo of characters

The first is a sniper who acts stoic at a distance, doesn't interact much with others and barely thinks about the fact that she's killing other people, it's just a job to her and she will rarely question what she is doing.

Up close she gets really nervous since she's not got any people skills and doesn't want to give the wrong information to the wrong person, plus her fighting style isn't very good up close so she prefers to stay away.

The second is a Knife Wielder with both stabbing and throwing skills. She's got great people skills and can manipulate them slightly and she greatly enjoys the act of killing others.

However she's very oblivious to anything that isn't immediately around her and in general is unable to grasp the bigger picture and of course her knifes are allergic to anything long range.

These two are supposed to be foils to each other although I still gotta develop them a bit like giving them names and more reason to dislike each other.

There is also a story I'm trying to construct around these characters although that's very work in progress and I haven't even got a proper idea of what the latter half or end looks like.

The basic premise is that these two kill each other at the beginning of the story, however both of them wake up the next day as if they'd only suffered a slight injury and a job listing they've both taken without remembering.

So they'll have to work together and it's not going to make them reconcile in any way, these two will still hate each others but in some different angles maybe.

They will also work with two others during these jobs.

The first I'll mention is a woman who wields a revolver and dressed like an MiB agent. She's been doing these mysterious job listings for longer and believes in some overall grand scheme that connects all of these.

She's initially supposed to give off mysterious vibes like maybe she did used to be an agent and she knows more than she lets on although this is supposed to be torn away as the plot moves forwards.

She doesn't have any more information than the other two but unlike them who don't think much further than what's happening to them, she's trying to piece together the grand scheme that she believes she's part of .

Her intense desire to be part of something important and her idealism is also why she has the secret agent theme despite never being part of any secret services.

And then we have the other one, the transgender robot I mentioned in a previous post.

So her cover "story" is being an assassin so dedicated to her career that she invested in cybernetics to improve her skill and become more efficient.

This is a total lie and quite the opposite, she's really a combat android who's been using her earnings to gain the appearance of humanity (hense the whole transgender part since she definitely wasn't a girl before).

She's also the total opposite of agent in that she has zero stakes in these missions and her enthusiasm goes as far as her payment.

This includes her inability to die like humans do which will be relevant and means she can just fuck off at any time.

Anyway that's all of them, I still haven't come up with their names (Once I can't make puns, I start to struggle) so maybe people could suggest them but I hope you enjoy these character concepts and would like to see me develop them.

My brain is also currently falling apart so I may have got something wrong, anyway that's all for now.