#𝜗ৎ᭪ dorkling!reader

[anqelhrt]

𐙚             DORKLING!READER

    who cares if I'm pretty if I fail my finals?

ad maiora natus sum. – I was born for greater things.

INTRODUCTING 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆...

oh screw beautiful! i’m brilliant!

until the battery died — jj x dorkling!reader

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𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   made with love and inspiration from Rory Gilmore, a hint of Jo March, sprinkles of Spencer Hastings. Driven like Alex Dunphy and firm as Paris Geller. With a pinch of Matilda Wormwood, and various splashes of everyone’s Disney Princess: Belle. Blair Waldorf if she ended up with Dan Humphrey. Kat Stratford by heart, if she had a Pinterest mood board.

   you want to appease me? compliment my brain!

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   emotional intelligence is her love language. curious of the world around her. devours words on pages like it’s oxygen. speaks in references or sometimes even bible quotes to scare someone away. always has a fact or a theory she’s passionate about but she doesn’t let slip out. she’s book smart, not exactly street, but she finds her way around it— isn’t afraid to challenge authority and excels in English essays to a tee.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   she doesn’t rely on anyone’s approval, especially not men or the popular crowd. she’s fiercely self-sufficient and values her freedom over popularity. perceptive — sees what others don’t. the smallest of details, even meaningless ones.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   sarcasm is her defence, her shield against stupidity, and god, does she despise it. vulnerability isn’t on the charts. quick wit, smart jabs, bitter comebacks, it’s in her tongue, and as said, she’s quick w/ it.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   straight A’s, school paper editor, debate team captain, National Honor Society—her schedule is a color-coded war zone of productivity. she’s a bit of a perfectionist and holds herself to high standards—sometimes too high.

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𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   quirks: she corrects grammar under her breath, recites quotes from books like they’re spells, wears a watch even though she always checks the time on her phone, writes the date in the margin of every book out of school routine habits. she also has a strong preference for fountain pens and leather bound notebooks, she hates paper without it being lined, it feels messy for her, she tries out every study technique and hates the spider diagram, because of how all over the place it is ( I relate. )

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   pet peeves: mispronounced literary names and it’s giving Hermoine Granger on god, people who brag about not reading, loud chewers when eating, group projects with slackers that’s why she does her own work, hates when people make themselves look stupid for entertainment with the exception of comedy, people who brag about not studying and still getting A’s, shallow conversations and incorrect grammar in texts/posts, bent book pages, mugs with bad puns, those weird positivity quotes on stand by at the stores.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   habits: annotates EVERYTHING she reads. listens to classical music or audiobooks while studying. carries a book because she knows she’s gonna get bored eventually of something or someone, usually the kindle version not a hardcore book. constantly is organising everything, she’s a bit paranoid when it comes to things being organised and neat, like it mentally irks her. sometimes by colour of book, and sometimes by author, or initial. she can’t stick to one. colour coding obsessed. talks to herself but hates being caught doing it. keeps multiple journals. daily to do lists and she actually does it.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   insecurities: her appearance, even though she tells herself it doesn’t matter, she’s always the girl who picks at her skin, and then hates herself for picking at the acne or the marks, regularly looks at herself in the mirror, but she doesn’t tell anyone about her insecurities, telling herself it’s not meant to matter and goes along her day saying “im the smart one anyways, I don’t care”. constantly compares herself to others, fear of her friends leaving her because she’s too overbearing, and she overthinks a lot, and gets attached easily when she doesn’t want to. always apologising for talking too much. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.” Is what she texts a person in the most polite manner ever with tears whenever she thinks she’s spoken too much than necessary or when her insecurities overcome her into a breakdown, and then she messages people all of a sudden. Hides her feelings because she doesn’t want to come off as attention seeking. Feels used most of the time, secretly a lover girl, but she’d rather use her head than her heart. over apologises.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   fears: not getting her parents approval, which is all she’s worked for, even the slightest eyebrow furrow makes her panic, especially with the pressures of being a poc girl, and with having immigrant parents who have a lot of expectations on her, she feels like she owes them her life and her hardwork. letting people in is so scary to her. losing control of the perfection, the organising, breaking down, she hates her mental breakdowns. she’s prone to having panic attacks when her grades are going low, that one time she got below a 50%, she just locked herself up in a bathroom to cry. being alone forever scares her too, even if she shows that she likes solitude. she doesn’t see her own beauty, but everyone around her does.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   hidden secrets: she has a hidden row behind a slide in door with no label, it’s mostly the steamy romance books, with the dirtiest lines, dirtiest scenes, dirtiest language and a dirty cover, known to mankind all hidden behind a slid in door but it just looks like a part of the bookshelf so her parents and NO ONE finds it, no one needs to know the smart ones have the dirtiest minds. she has a burn book— this is where that slightly cunningly intelligent side of her comes in, with screenshots, notes, evidence, and if anyone wrongs her or her friends, she’s ready. sometimes she thinks about death, not in a suicidal way, as in a escape, she daydreams about other realities, pictures herself in them, some insane, some peaceful. when her and pope were both competing for that Ivy League position, she backed down because she knew how much he needed the position more than her, unlike her who could buy it. she even gave him money to pay for it, the tuition and everything. despite their differences with her being a Kook and him being a Pogue, they became friends. she cheated on one of her Physics test, by taking the answer sheet, and she’s never told anyone. she has a shirt that says “talk nerdy to me” but never shows anyone it.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   flaws: perfectionism, control issues, attachment issues, judgemental, paranoid of being alone in the end

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   goals: to get into Harvard, that has been her main goal for a long time, she plans to become a published writer or a diplomat, but her teachers guess she might even be the first female President, or somewhere working in the White House. she doesn’t really think about having a family or marriage, it’s not her biggest priority and she doesn’t think anyone would want to.

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𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   oversized cardigans. wool skirts. turtlenecks. Oxford shoes. squared glasses. cable knit sweaters. pleated trousers. Harvard sweatshirts. Oxford button downs. Graphic t-shirts that have either Gilmore Girl references, an inspirational quote about like psychology or an iconic quote, or bookish references. vintage sweatshirts. cropped knits. vintage trench coats. oversized denim jackets. Corduroy blazers. canvas tote bags full of books, lip balm, half eaten granola bars and one emergency tampons. She gravitates toward muted tones—burgundy, forest green, navy, and cream. knee high rainy day boots. tights.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   makeup is usually low maintenance. she still has it but she doesn’t apply much because if she runs out of it, she won’t want to spend more money on it. hair often pulled into a messy bun or braided crown. little to no makeup—maybe some tinted lip balm and a dab of concealer on rushed days. a full face just makes her want to scratch her face and adjust things a lot and it’s distracting for her, and she’s allergic to some products.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   her aesthetic is a mix of dark and light academia, with a bit of literary girl autumn, she wears her thoughts like perfume, she drinks cold coffee with a dog-eared copy of The Bell Jar, her eyeliner is slightly smudged from rubbing her eyes mid-poetry reading, her aesthetic isn’t just visual—it’s a whole vibe, one that makes people wonder what she’s thinking, and whether they’ll ever get close enough to find out. her room is full of books, fairy lights, typewritten notes, and coffee-stained paper. A corkboard is filled with clippings, quotes, and color-coded Post-its. she’s got a bit of that office siren look.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   by first impression: crushed violet leaves, earl grey tea, fait citrus zest. what lingers on her skin: powdery iris, black fig, rosewater. what stays with her: cedar wood, a mix of cocoa and vanilla beans, a whisper of tobacco or worn leather. smells like old books, vanilla, and a hint of bergamot. something warm and intellectual like Byredo Bibliothèque or Maison Margiela’s Whispers in the Library.

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𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   gothic novels for the atmosphere and psychology texts that blur the line between intellect and self analysis, obscure diaries, letters or journals by long dead artists or revolutionaries, or old sources of the past, especially with her history obsession, she definitely read Becoming Michelle Obama, philosophy in translation— Camus, Sontag, Simon de Bouvoir. poetry. angst YA.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   Sylvia Plath. Virginia Woolf. Emily Dickinson. Oscar Wilde. Charlotte Brontë. Sappho. Anaïs Nin. Rainer Maria Rilke. Mary Wollstonecraft. Mary Shelley. Simone de Bouvoir. Dostoevsky— when she wants intensity. Jane Austen (secretly) and prefers the social commentary than the romance. Homer for the ancient epics.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Her forever book. It’s personal. It’s sacred. She saw herself in Esther Greenwood’s mental spirals and inability to just be normal. She rereads this when she feels like she’s slipping out of herself and needs someone to name the darkness. A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf— her feminist thesis before she had one. She found this in high school and it changed how she saw herself. It gave her permission to take up space. She keeps a highlighted copy in her tote. The Diary of Anaïs Nin— She discovered Anaïs by accident and now thinks in diary entries. it’s all exactly what she wants to embody without admitting it. She reads Nin when she feels too much and needs to feel even more.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   she loves Salem witch trials, the Romanov sisters, Library of Alexandria, had a Tudor phase. The Titanic, she cries in bed every night about how Rose and Jack aren’t real. Sultanate of Women, she can’t shut up about either. Ancient Egypt and Ancient Greece are her most interested historical periods. Mughal Empire is also interesting. She also likes the tales of Mansa Musa of the Mali Empire, who was one of the most richest men to walk on Earth. Her current history obsession is with female spies and resistance fighters during WWII — specifically Noor Inayat Khan and Virginia Hall. she’s also interested with the Cold War, and American Revolution. she watches documentaries too.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   who she looks up to: Sylvia Plath. Mary Wollstonecraft. Nina Simone. Greta Gerwig. Audrey Hepburn for her humanitarian efforts. Angelina Jolie for her advocacy for refugees and human rights. Princess Diana for her empathy and strength. Kate Middleton. Amal Clooney. Emma Watson. Margaret Atwood.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   Dead Poets Society. Portraits of a Lady on Fire. The Hours. Lady Bird — she watched it 6 times and cried. Black Swan. Her. Carol. The Piano Teacher. Jean-Luc Godard films.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   documentaries: The Vietnam War. Grey Gardens. Stories we Tell. 13th. Helvetica. What happened, Miss Simone? The Staircase. The Jinx. Woman at War: the Forgotten Soldiers. Capturing the Friedmans. Killer Sally. Lorena. Becoming Jane. The Ascent of Woman. Bombshell: the Hedy Lamar Story.

𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆…   favourite historical figures are Simone de Beauvoir, Frida Khalo, Virginia Woolf, Hypatia of Alexandria, Cleopatra, Emily Dickinson, Noor Inayat Khan, Joan of Arc, Zora Hurston, Queen Nzinga, Anne Boleyn, Dorothy Dandrige, Bessie Coleman, Anaïs Nin, Hathshepsut, Claude Cahun, Christine de Pizan.

pairing   dealer!rafe, jj maybank, anyone else?

note   as you can tell with the amount of depth with this reader, she is my heart and my soul and you SHALL treat her with respect. she’s so classy 🤭 she eats. but tell me if you guys like her or not, I don’t say it, but I LOVE OPINIONS or criticism, if there is any…. the start of this post begins with characters that inspire dorkling, many references. she’s a very layered persona and I hope you love her just as much, she fits for all! Smut, fluff, angst. I know it’s a lot to read, but I love her and I really hope you enjoy reading about her, skimming would hurt my heart ☹️

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my moots: @rafeysvenicebitch @rafesluckylady @f4dedtouch @alinavalentine @outerhills @bbyg4rl @trusweethrt

© arvhangel — 20.04.2025

please do not claim, rewrite ( without permission if I originally wrote it ) copy or steal my work. my work is my own and it will stay that way. thank you, from mayra.

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[anqelhrt]

𐙚    DORKLING!READER X JJ MAYBANK until the battery died.            oneshot.

summary: jj leaves dorkling!reader a video before his death in morocco. writer's notes: no smut or fluff, PURE ANGST, mental breakdowns, depression, panic attack, survivor's guilt, flashbacks, emotional distress, grief. please read with caution. it involves spoilers of the outcome of the obx character, jj maybank. if you haven't watched it, don't read this oneshot. thank you. the ending is poorly written. it's in dorkling!reader's pov.

I haven't felt so disorganised since that day JJ's name was engraved on that tomb. But it wasn't his name. Or what we all called him. It wasn't fair. That wasn't him. He's not John Jackson Maybank. I locked myself up in my room ever since that day. I didn't have the heart to be productive. Because I didn't have the idiot who took my heart and took it with him in death. And now I was left with nothing. No JJ, no heart. I was empty inside. Still am. A hollow feeling in my chest, like someone had taken my heart, crushed it, stomped on it. It wasn't fair. I didn't even make my to do list today. What was there to do? Wrapped up in one of his old hoodies, the Harvard hoodie, the one he bought me with his own money, when I was competing with Pope for that Harvard position. My eyes were so sore, brimming tears out for days straight. He didn't tell Pope that he was secretly in full support of me during that competitive streak me and Pope both shared and used against each other. Don't tell Pope, it'll get 'im all bothered.

That was his exact words when he snuck into my room that night to give me his unwavering support. I remember when I laughed at him, like he had just told me the funniest joke ever. But he meant it. He so meant it. Even when I didn’t take him seriously sometimes.

I couldn’t get out of bed. Like it physically hurt to. I didn’t want to get out of my hoodie.

I didn’t care if it made me look dirty. Or if I stank. There was this lingering fear that if I got out of the Harvard hoodie, he wouldn’t be in my head anymore. That I’d lose him all over again.

I haven’t eaten in weeks, I could practically feel bone and no flesh now. My parents had been sending me food, but it always went cold on the bedside. No one could get me out of the room.

It’s like my brain had shut down. I had no motivation, no energy, no interests— god, everything I loved was squashed into pieces. I couldn’t even find the energy to turn on the TV and watch an episode of the Killer Sally.

Couldn’t stand a Jane Austen book. Because the main characters had their lives in tact. I didn’t get my happy ending. So why the fuck should I bother with sappy romance? It sucks. I hate everything about it. It was shallow. Damp. No depth, no plot line—

One knock put a halt to my thoughts. “Honey! Get out of your room, I won’t tell you again!” My mom interrupts me at my worst moment, as usual. Because everyone around me had to be so fucking insensitive. Honestly, are humans just deforming? Maybe…

“I told you, I’m not—” I was interrupted when my mom says. “Pope is here! Your friend, sweetie, Pope!” She repeats.

My eyebrows furrow, and I felt a bit bad. I also refused to see anyone. That was another problem. I stopped talking to all my friends. Stopped bickering with Rafe. Stopped debating with Pope, which was one of my most favourite things in the world.

I remember that look on JJ’s face whenever I used to talk. Simply talk. That’s all I had to do. Move my lips around, say a few words, and he looked at me like that heart eyes emoji. Which was weird.

No one wanted to hear me ramble on about the Tudors or Female Spies in the WWII, but he was willingly to do so. “Let him in.” I mumble, and then Pope enters.

But he doesn’t look at me with pity. More with disappointment. Because I knew all the words he had planned out to tell me. JJ wouldn’t have wanted this. This is not like you. You could do a lot better. Have you even eaten? You look like a ghost. But no. He doesn’t do that.

Instead, he sits beside me on my bed. And simply stares at me like he couldn’t recognise me. Usually, I’d feel offended. Or I’d bite back, with my usual sarcasm and witty jabs. But I was already agreeing with him in my head. I didn’t even recognise myself anymore. “You’re still wearing that hoodie.” He narrows his eyes.

The girl, who fought her way through every debate session, who argued day and night for a space in Harvard Law School, never took her eyes of the percentage rates, now didn’t even have the ability to get out of bed. Like a potato couch. And the girl everyone recognised disappeared. With JJ.

And as soon I met Pope’s gaze, I crumbled into tears. I felt horrible. I hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. And I missed him. Then he hugged me, and I was mumbling apologises.

After a few moments, he looks at me. “JJ left something for you.” He mutters, looking down. I notice how he looks like he might break too. He doesn’t dare look at me. Like he might lose it, if he does look at me.

As I wipe my tears, my eyebrows creased. “What— what do you mean?” My voice was hoarse, heavy like it was holding a lot of weight and was about to crack, on the verge of breaking if Pope continued talking like that.

It didn’t take Pope long to set up the video on my Sky TV. When the TV’s screen flickered, there he was. My JJ.

With that shaggy blonde hair that was always so unkempt, the same locks I told him to always fix up.. those blue eyes lighting up with the quality of that video. He looks more upset than me in that video.

I could easily tell when it looked like when he was crying. He’d always do that thing when he would mess up his hair so no one would focus on his eyes. I knew him too well. And he knew me too well. Guess that’s why he made this video. He looked so torn, like he already knew he was going to die.

I took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm the panic threatening to rise and make me lose my breath. “When—” My voice cracks. “When did he make this?” My volume was below a whisper.

Such a contrast to how loud I’d be in those debate sessions, whenever I used to argue with Rafe, or when I used to cuss out Ward whenever I got the chance.

But Pope doesn’t say anything for a moment, like he knows what he says is going to hate me. Then he doesn’t say anything at all. And he just plays the video. One press on the remote.

JJ takes a few breaths, biting his lip so hard it might bleed, and he sniffs. There were already tears falling from my eyes, and he didn’t even start speaking.

I used my sleeves to wipe off the tears, tilting my head to rest on Pope’s shoulder, as he rubbed the side of my arm to comfort me.

“Hey baby.” He pauses. “I know you must me off at Harvard right now.” JJ mumbles, sniffing. “Best girl in the world, smartest one ever. My girl.” He continues, his voice cracking with every second that passes. “Probably outsmarting Pope at all his bullshit.” He says, and I see tears falling from his eyes.

“I don’t know if you’re still pissed at me for leaving you. Forgive me for that, baby.” His voice cracks. I forgive you, I forgive you, please come back is all that kept running through my head.

“And if I was to die..” He says, looking up at the camera for the first time and I see how bloodshot his eyes have gotten from crying. “I didn’t want that to be the last time.”

His tears fall while looking straight at the camera, and I was sobbing. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles, and he was apologising for crying. And I would’ve told him it’s okay. “I’ve been having that gut feeling you always have whenever you think you got those bad grades.” He says.

“I’ve turned into you, baby. I’m always overthinking. Because—” His voice cracks. “I want to come back to my girl. Who works her ass off than I’ve done in my whole life.” “I know you were…” He looks back down again. “I know you were mad at me when I left.” He says. “Don’t be mad at me if I never get back there with you.” His voice goes hoarse.

“I love you, smartass.” He mumbles, running a hand over his tear streaked face. “I’m sorry if I missed your first day at college. It…” his words trail off. “It won’t happen again baby.”

And I let out a sob, hugging my pillow. Because I knew what he meant by that. “I love you.” He says. “But you gotta stay strong for me. Okay, baby? Promise?” He whispers.

“Don’t be all depressed about it. You’ll find me everywhere baby.” A grin reaches his lips, but he’s still crying.

“I’m never really gone, am I?” He sighs. “My girl at the top of the world. And I’m gonna be there to see it. I promise you. You just gotta wait a few more days, baby.”

He smiles. “I love you.” He has that usual grin on his face. The one that made him JJ Maybank. “Don’t miss me too much alright? Don’t let it get to your head.” And the battery died.

I nod. “I love you.” I mumble into the pillow. My eyes widen as the video suddenly cuts off. The battery died. And it made me cry a river even more.

“What happened?” I turn to Pope. “The footage lost its battery.” He says, and I see his eyes glisten a little. My eyebrows furrow and I hug him.

I cry into Pope’s shoulder whilst holding the pillow that had a picture of me and JJ, which I ordered off of Etsy. I was sobbing even, and I felt my headache beginning to form. And when the camera turned off and JJ was gone from my view, I curled up onto my bed, crying. My hoodie going up on my head. And I glance at the note on the video tape’s front.

For the most beautiful girl in the world. For my favourite Harvard student. For my dork. For my wife. My girl.

© 2025 Mayra — @arvhangel

please do not claim, rewrite ( without permission if I originally wrote it ) copy or steal my work. my work is my own and it will stay that way. thank you, from mayra.

@bbyg4rl I’m sobbing tearing up

[anqelhrt]

the nativity play on xmas       jj maybank oneshot

pair: dorkling!reader x jj maybank   heartburn by wafia.

summary: flashback scene of Dorkling and JJ during their school days. this is inspired by Nate MaCauley and Bronwyn Rojas of the One of Us Is Lying book series. warnings: a bit of angst(?), fluff, very adorable, no smut, childhood memories, a flashback scene, humor, rom-com vibes, very very cute 💕

December 24th 2016. Both of the characters are 13 year olds. This is a flashback scene of their shared past. There will be a divider that separates the flashback scene from the present scene.

She hadn’t been so nervous in her whole life. And that was saying a lot, since there was so much more worse that could happen than acting out as Mother Mary in a Nativity scene: doing end of year tests, losing on the Spelling Bee with her strict parents at the front row of the audience, not finding a matching sock.

And then there was JJ, who never in fact took anything seriously. It was so infuriating to her. Why couldn’t he just… tone it down a little? For her?

He just kept talking and talking, and it made her nervous go tingly and— she snaps.

“JJ, would you just go!” She exclaims, snapping at him louder than she expected. Of course he wouldn’t understand how important this was. Her parents would murder her if this wasn’t played out right.

He had nothing to lose and she had everything to. Then her eyes widen a little, hearing how loud she was, the way the room echoed.

And then JJ stopped, and his eyebrows furrowed. His arms crossed, and she never wanted to take back her words so badly as much as she wanted to do now. Why couldn’t he just make things easier….

“No… JJ—!” She says quickly, walking up to him and he has that look of hurt on his face as he walks off and she wanted to get rid of it from JJ's face. This wasn’t meant to happen. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. She needed him there. She didn't know how she was going to do this. Her nerves was making her go all jumpy, like she might bust if she doesn't calm down the bad feeling rotting in her tummy. As she made her way to the stage, her hands trembling as the spotlight fell on her. Her face crumples. The audience could tell she was on the verge of crying. All of a sudden, the play stops. Because the baby Jesus doll was gone, and it ruined the entire show. Little did they know, JJ was the one who stole baby Jesus, just to give her a piece of his mind for snapping at him, when he did nothing wrong. But when he saw her break down on that stage from the stage fright, he felt a little bad. The guilt was building up on him, like being stoned, right where his heart was. He ruined everything for her. He always did.

They were sat at the stairs of some abandoned street, free from the company of others, and in their own company. She narrows her eyes at the blonde haired, her arms crossed in her usual posture, the same old square shaped glasses pressing against the bridge of her nose. But the usual stupid grin on JJ's face makes a smile creeps up on her lips. "You— you're the one who stole baby Jesus." She snickers. "Sorry 'bout your baby Jesus, dork." JJ says, that southern accent seeping through the cracks. And it makes her laugh even more. Then she meets his eyes. And really, looks at him. Like really looks at him. "Why?" She asks abruptly, her eyes falling on his face. He pauses, like he's actually not wanting to say the truth. Which was odd to her, because JJ was never one to hold back, he spoke with chest, almost most of the time. So this surprises her a bit. Making her raise her eyebrows, as if silently asking him to continue. He finally meets her eyes. "I just wanted you to see me." He says, fidgeting with his fingers. The same way he did when he realised what a mistake he made after stealing Baby Jesus. "I was always a burden to you." He mutters. "You just kept me around as your idiot." Her eyebrows furrow. "Not true." He crosses his arms. "I'm just a circus clown to you." He looks away from her. "No, you don't." She's quick to say. And it fell on deaf ears. "I ruined your day." JJ slurs, as he takes a whisk from the beer. "Stop!" She says, with a smile as she swats his chest, and then takes his hand, putting a hand on his face turning him to look at her. As she puts the beer onto the floor. "Stop doing that." She repeats, resting her forehead against his. He had that horrid alcohol breath she loathed. But she didn't care. As their noses nudged, JJ laughs a little. "Don't you go and break my heart." He says, pointing at her and poking her nose with a boop. JJ lowers his head down on her lap, and her fingers meet with the unkempt locks.

A smile reaching her lips. "I only have one." He pouts dramatically, and she laughs.

She looks down at him. Her fingers brushing his hair around. It was fun to play with. “You won’t have to worry about that in a very long time.” She smiles.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” He slurs, his fingers reaching out for her. His fingers were sprawled out, like he was reaching for an angel. Except this one came in typewriter notes, perfectionism and Maison Margiela’s Whispers in the Library.

Intertwined fingers. Joint as one.

“I’d hate to live here all alone.” He frowns, sighing loudly.

He mumbles lowly, his voice almost bordering on quiet. “No one to check up on me. Or keep me in line.”

“You have me.” She mutters but her tone was firm.

He looks up, stops fidgeting with the zipper of her leather jacket. “Yeah?” Soft smiles tracing his lips.

“Yeah.” She smiles back.

© 2025 Mayra — @brattiva

please do not claim, rewrite ( without permission if I originally wrote it ) copy or steal my work. my work is my own and it will stay that way. thank you, from mayra.

@bbyg4rl healing ur heart not breaking it.. this time. Should I make Dorkling into an oc?

[anqelhrt]

MASTERLIST

READERS 𐙚  dorkling!reader— smartest girl in kildare, running for president or the mayor if she sees it fit, rory gilmore and hermoine granger if she wasn't working on potions. 𐙚  barrys!sister!reader— the girl who hides the most secrets, a family type of girl, doesn't show that her heard isn't just stone with a secret talent she can't make money out of, races and deals to make a few pennies for her brother and herself. 𐙚  mrshoney!reader— the teacher every child wants growing up: sweet, kind, respectful, like an older version of dorkling, wears sundresses and lives in a little cottage of independence 𐙚  potatohead!reader— the most realistic version of a teenage girl, sensitive, scarred by her own insecurities, can't stand to stare at herself in the mirror for longer than a minute, hates her own skin 𐙚  britannia!reader— sassy, impulsive and the wild child with a yorkshire accent, comes from the Yorkshire moors with her sassy quips and jabs. 𐙚  lolita!reader— the sex appeal of her youth, who's a virgin, sees the world in a whole different view, flirty yet innocent, with that cute clumsy stereotype in ballet flats and love letters to herself.

CHARACTERS Rafe Cameron  JJ Maybank    

SERIES Gossip Girl AU  Here, we go into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's favourite four— Rafe, Sabrina, Theo and Zara along with their friends and it's my biggest series yet! In the world of betrayal, cheating, pregnancy scares... two faced bitches in platform heels and innocent girls trying to fit into the wrong world. An anonymous blogger revealing a secret once a day. Everything unravels, till it spirals. What could honestly go wrong? Scandal  Messiest series I'm writing, two married people, the reader's a mother and a wife all in one unhappy marriage, and he's the President, and all he wants to do is make you his Only Lady, not First. (President!Rafe x Married! Reader) Our Memoirs   Outlaw!JJ and Uptown!Girl cross paths when she goes to the countryside for the summer, and gets twirled up in summer love with a country boy who only makes a few cents in a day. After the summer, he wrote her a letter for each day he couldn't spend with her whilst she lived the lavish life every girl dreamt of. Seven years later, they meet again. Is there room for second chances? 10 Things I Hate About You   Where Dorkling!Reader and Lolita!Reader's father ( who are going to be actual OCs ) says Lolita can't date till Dorkling does. JJ, then pays the outcast druggie, Rafe to date Dorkling for a few bucks. But then it becomes more than a few bucks to him... 10 Things I Hate About You AU After the Fall  Barrys!sister!reader is one hell of a girl, but she's also known for having many secrets, and her brother was sick of it. Then word flies about her being a stripper back in the days at Kook Island for money. He kicks her out of the house, and Rafe takes her in. But when the two lines show on her pregnancy test, and Barry's ready to let his sister back in, she's torn between her baby daddy and her brother.

© 2025 Mayra   @mairella. all rights are served to the writer. please message under this post if you want to be apart of the taglist.

[anqelhrt]

thinking about jj having a pet lizard like Nate Macauley... dorkling!reader would be so freaked about him having a pet lizard, it'd be so funny but it's relatable because this writer hates insects in general.

and then like.. let's say dorkling!reader and jj are arguing over something trivial and then she sees his pet lizard he never spoke about, and she thinks its a weird insect and she screams so loudly, and stomps her feet and runs away, and it almost puts him into a heart attack.

JJ expected a thief, his dad, Rafe Cameron, a rodent. Not a spider. At first, he thinks he's mad. But no, because when he looks at her, it's the most adorable sight he's ever seen. When she stomps her feet at him, or when she whines about killing the spider, or when she chucks her shoe at him. He finds it all adorable. Even if you're a bit unpredictable when it comes to whatever you throw and what direction you're going.

And that one time, she accidentally sprayed bug poison into his eyes. She kept apologising and he purposely made it look like she actually hurt him so he coild get her attention.

He intentionally places spiders around the place, so he could get her clinging and attentive on him, and he loves it. Tries not to laugh at it.