#and also bc i didn’t know how to end it

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 19

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Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 6.5k+

Note: Hello i gave YN a september birthday bc she gives virgo vibes.

also pls dont hate me for chapter 21 its coming and i fear people are going to be mad at me for it.

xxx

The week went by way too fast.

Maybe it's the fast pace of this city, or the fact that I’ve been distracted. Either way, since seeing Will at the station that day, he's sort of… drifted out of my head. Like smoke caught in the breeze. The ache that used to sit heavy in my chest has softened, faded into the background noise of everyday life. It’s barely noticeable now. I’m almost surprised.

George, though, has come back in like he never left—solid, steady, with that proper mate energy I always fall back on. It’s like he’s been here the entire time, even though it’s been a while.

I mean, just last week he showed up unannounced with a takeaway curry because I’d moaned about being too tired to cook. No big deal. No drama. Just food. And, as usual, his terrible jokes that make me laugh harder than I should. Even when I know they’re coming, I can’t help but laugh at them.

Or that one night last week, when I was stuck on a bug at work and sent him a frantic message at midnight. Without missing a beat, he stayed on the line for a full hour, alternating between half-teasing and half-moral-supporting me through it. It was as if he knew I needed both—someone to help me focus, but also someone to tell me I wasn’t as stupid as I felt in that moment. I think he made about seven different “cracked the code” jokes, all of them terrible. But still, every time, I felt a little lighter. Like I was a genius, even if I didn’t feel like one at all.

I’ve seen more of George this past week than I care to admit.

I won’t lie, a part of me loves it. He was appalled to hear my plans for my first birthday in London was to split a shitty bottle of wine with him and scroll through Netflix to find our favourite Brooklyn Nine-Nine episodes. That’s exactly what we did for my actual birthday, of course. But for the Friday after, George insisted I needed to do something real. Something different.

I ended up having a dinner out, with some of my friends from The Van plus a handful of Ruth’s mates who I could tolerate, you know, just to pad it out. George, Chris, and Arthur all solemnly declined the invite, pretending it was some big “brand event” they had to attend. And, to be fair, they did actually have one, but they spun it in such a way that it felt like they were doing me a favour by not coming. “We don’t want to steal your thunder,” they said, like I wasn’t capable of enjoying a night without their chaos.

It’s just so typical of them. But I’m not going to lie, it did make me feel a little warm inside. They care, in their own ridiculous way.

So, here I am—out on the town, dressed a little too nicely for a bar, surrounded by friends who make me feel like I actually belong. The music’s pounding, lights flashing, the crowd’s energy wrapping around me like a warm, electric current. I take a deep breath and, for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not thinking about Will. Or the way I saw him that morning on the train platform, or how the ache had softened but still lingered in the background, like some ghost I couldn’t quite shake off.

It’s just me. Just this moment. Just my birthday celebration in this big, loud city. And for the first time in ages, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

The buzz of the night swirls around me—laughter, music, the clink of glasses all blending together into a warm, fuzzy haze. I’m wine-drunk from the dinner, flushed, carefree, and surrounded by friends, all of whom are easy to talk to and full of stories. Their laughter is infectious, the kind that makes you feel like everything is good, even when you’re not quite sure how you got here.

In this moment, I’m just present, no overthinking, no wondering about past conversations or lost opportunities. It’s all just right now.

And of course, Ruth keeps nudging me, grinning mischievously. “Come on, just say hi to Liam. He’s a good bloke. Deep voice, really sweet.” Liam, of course, is the mate she was trying to set me up with when Will first ghosted.

I wave her off with a laugh, spinning a loose strand of hair between my fingers. “Ruth, I’m not here to meet anyone new. I’m having a bloody good time as it is.”

She smirks but lets it go, knowing she’s not winning this one tonight. I settle into the rhythm of the room, feeling light and happy in a way I haven’t for a while.

The bar is buzzing with that familiar, chaotic energy—laughter spilling into the dim lights, the low hum of music wrapping around the crowd like a warm blanket.

I’m caught in the middle of it all when someone’s hand suddenly slips into mine. My first instinct is to pull away, startled, but then I look up, and a grin that could light up the whole place is looking back at me.

It’s George.

He’s grinning wide, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment, a little spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without saying a word, he yanks me back into the rhythm, spinning me around with a fluid ease that makes me laugh out loud.

For a moment, the chaos of the dancefloor blurs away. There’s no noise, no crowd. Just us—moving, smiling, perfectly in sync like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Had to make it,” he says, his grin never faltering as we twirl. “Can’t miss your birthday celebrations, can I?”

I raise an eyebrow, curious. “Skipped the afterparty did we?”

George shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah, the event ended early anyway. It was boring.”

He takes a sip of his drink, leans back against the bar. The music shifts, bass-heavy now, just loud enough to blur the edges of the moment.

If George is here, I’m sure Chris isn’t far behind. They went to the event together—Arthur too, obviously. The Three Musketeers of mildly chaotic YouTube fame. Wherever one goes, the others tend to materialise not long after, usually holding pints and half-finished inside jokes.

I should probably find them. Go say hi. Give them shit for missing my birthday dinner.

“I was just about to text you,” George adds, glancing over with a crooked smile, “see where you ended up.”

He pauses, letting the grin settle.

“But then I heard your laugh—” His hand makes a vague gesture toward me, “—and figured it was the universe telling me to just show up and crash the party in person.”

“Just show up, huh?” I laugh, the moment settling between us like a worn-in coat—comfortable, familiar. I’m so glad he made it tonight.

“May I have this dance, birthday girl?” he asks, mock-formal, eyes twinkling with mischief. He sweeps into an overly dramatic bow, one hand extended like we’re at a royal ball instead of a sticky-floored bar.

I shake my head, smiling at his classic George antics. “Sure, why not?”

Before I can rethink it, he grabs my hand and pulls me onto the makeshift dance floor. The lights blur. The music pulses, loud and careless, the kind that gets into your bones whether you like it or not.

Our movements are terrible—chaotic, off-beat, probably embarrassing—but none of it matters. We’re laughing, bumping shoulders, spinning like idiots. It’s not about dancing well. It’s about this: messy, loud, completely unfiltered joy.

And somehow, it feels exactly right.

That’s when I spot him, of course.

Right when I’m feeling good. Music thrumming in my chest, wine warm in my limbs, laughter still clinging to the corners of my mouth.

Will.

He’s across the room, in a booth, half-lit by the lamp on the table and the sickly blue overhead bar light, talking to someone I vaguely recognise. He looks good. A little tired maybe, but still—him. Black tee. Rings catching the light. That same disarming way he holds his drink like it’s just another prop in his performance of not caring.

And without thinking, like muscle memory, I smile.

Big. Wide. Genuine.

It’s instinct, almost. Something automatic. Like how your body remembers the way home in the dark. It doesn’t matter that I haven’t spoken him in weeks, or that the last time I did, he barely looked at me. My stupid, traitorous face still lights up.

He glances over. Meets my eyes for a second too long.

Then smiles back. Polite. Measured. The kind of smile you give someone you used to know.

And just like that, something in my chest contracts—tight and sharp and sudden.

I think I've convinced myself that I miss him more as a friend than a lover. Because what I’m feeling is nostalgia, not longing. I just want the version of us that used to make each other laugh until our ribs ached.

Not the nights. Not the kisses. Not the way he used to touch me like I was something rare.

I sip my drink. Swallow the smile. Try to focus on the music, on the friends I actually showed up with, on George’s voice somewhere behind me yelling about how he “absolutely crushed that spin move.” Because I’m okay. I am.

Mostly.

I spot Chris in the booth, laughing at something, a drink in one hand, gesturing wildly with the other. Will’s next to him, naturally. He's leaning against the counter like he owns it, that casual slouch he always falls into when he’s had just enough to drink.

I hesitate. Just for a second. Then I square my shoulders and head over.

“Oi, look who it is!” Chris beams when he sees me. He stands up and pulls me into a proper hug—tight, warm, sincere in that disarming Chris way. “You look unreal, by the way. Seriously.”

I laugh, startled by the compliment, and mutter something like “you need new glasses,” but it still catches me off guard—the ease of it. The kindness.

When he lets go, I glance at Will.

His hand is still around his glass, knuckles gone white. He hasn’t said anything yet. Hasn’t really looked at me, not properly.

“Hi,” I say, soft but even. I’m not going to shrink.

He offers a smile—thin, polite, all surface. Then he gives me another one of those side hugs, the kind that barely counts. His arm brushes my shoulder, brief and stiff. Like we’re colleagues who once had a weird office Christmas party hookup.

I step back. The cold of his skin lingers.

The silence between us says more than either of us ever could.

Chris, oblivious to the tension, launches into a story about some chaotic shoot involving three smoke machines and a minor fire hazard, and I let him pull me in, let myself laugh at the right beats. But I don’t miss the way Will stays quiet. I don’t miss the flicker in his eyes when I smile too easily at someone else.

At some point, the noise of the bar fades into background chatter. Will's looking at his phone, scrolling through something with intent, and I feel a strange compulsion to fill the silence between us.

“So,” I start, forcing my voice to sound casual, “how have you been?”

His eyes flick up at the mention of the place, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something—maybe surprise. Then it’s gone, replaced with that same cool, detached demeanour.

“Oh, uh...” He swigs from his glass, clearly not looking to dive deep. “I launched a coffee brand last month so I've been non-stop.”

I blink, caught off guard. “Right. Cool. I—uh, didn’t know that.” I totally know that. I stalked the shit out of it when it first dropped. Ruth had to stop me from going to a Sainsburys' to buy it. I don’t tell him that I recognised the logo from various papers around his flat.

I can feel the awkwardness hanging between us, thick as smoke. I don't know what I expected, but I would think he could maybe elaborate a bit more. The man can talk until the cows come home.

I glance over at Chris, who's still caught up in his own story, not paying attention to the fact that Will and I are barely engaging.

Will’s eyes flicker, just for a moment—a hint of something softer, like he’s about to say something. “You look—” His gaze shifts suddenly, moving past me, over my shoulder.

He cuts himself off mid-sentence.

I follow his line of sight, curiosity pulling me to see what has caught his attention.

And of course, it’s George.

George, grinning like a cat who’s just knocked something precious off the counter. “Oi!” He calls out, walking toward us with his trademark enthusiasm. “Why are you wasting your birthday time with these guys? Go have some fun with your mates!”

I can practically hear the relief in Will’s exhale as he shifts his attention away, the soft moment gone before it can take root.

George flashes me a grin, throwing a playful look over at Chris and Will. "You two need to stop being so serious, let her have a good night."

Chris throws up his hands, still smiling. “Fair enough, mate. Go on, buy the birthday girl a drink.”

I laugh, though it feels like a little too much, a little too forced. But George is already pulling me away, guiding me toward the my friends with a cheeky wink.

Will doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t even look back.

And for once, I don’t feel sorry for myself.

Not tonight.

I make my way back to our group, and George goes to the bar to get me another drink. I can feel how flushed my cheeks are from dancing and too much wine, and my hair is clinging to the back of my neck. Ruth’s still mid-rant about how her ex once cried because she beat him at Uno, and I let myself dissolve into the comfort of it—of noisy, lovely people who don’t know the Will of it all.

A few minutes later, George wanders over, two fresh drinks in hand and cheeks pink from the heat. One of Ruth’s friends clocks him immediately, eyes trailing over him like she’s assessing inventory. I don’t blame her. His shirt’s unbuttoned just enough, curls a little messy, grin easy. He looks like the kind of guy you flirt with just to feel alive again.

And I feel it. That flutter. The smallest shift in my chest—something I don’t want to name. It passes quickly, but it still passes.

He grins at something Ruth says, then catches my eye. I turn to face him, his brow raising slightly, a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s like we’re already mid-conversation, even though neither of us has said a word yet. I turn back to Ruth, who is still complaining.

I'm hyper-aware of his presence next to me, and I'm not sure why but it feels… forbidden. Like I've stumbled into a situation is shouldn't be in. Then, he turns toward the bar. I turn to watch him catching up with a few people from the other side of the room, his voice rising above the crowd. His attention shifts, and he's walking and now, he's standing next to some girl in a glittery top, laughing loudly enough that it cuts through the pulse of the music.

He’s leaning in just enough to hear her, grinning that lopsided grin—the one that always makes people feel like they’re in on something. I feel it before I even register it: a flicker, low in my stomach. A little flutter.

Not jealousy, exactly. Just… awareness. Like I’ve noticed something I wasn’t supposed to.

They’re talking.

No—more than talking.

Leaning in. Faces close. That kind of proximity you only allow when the rest of the room disappears. Eyes locked in a way that makes my stomach drop through the sticky floorboards. For a moment, I forget the beat of the song. Forget the warmth of Ruth’s hand around mine. Forget how to stand.

I shouldn’t stare.

But I do.

God, I do.

“Let’s dance!” someone says (probably Naomi) and suddenly I’m being pulled back into the blur of bodies and basslines. I let it happen. I smile. I raise my arms and pretend I’m still in it, like the music hasn’t warped around the crack forming in my chest.

We move. I dance. I laugh at something Arthur says in passing and shout-sing the chorus of a song I don’t really know. But every time the hook rolls around, I glance over.

He’s still talking to her.

They’ve shifted positions slightly. George now angled toward her like he’s shielding their conversation from the world.

His smile is lopsided, eyes crinkled. That laugh, his real one, the one that starts in his chest and ends in his shoulders—

rises up over the bar.

It’s so familiar. I know that laugh like a favourite song.

And yet I have no idea what’s making her laugh like that.

They talk for ages. Longer than I expect. Longer than I can excuse away.

I keep dancing. Keep pretending. But the longer it goes on, the less I can feel my limbs. I become mechanical, going through the motions, too aware of the prickling at the back of my neck. The small, tight burn behind my ribs.

It’s not jealousy.

(Not quite.)

It’s something messier than that.

Ruth and the others break away for a round of drinks, their laughter trailing off as they slip toward the bar, and I pause—one breath, two—still swaying, still looking.

That’s when George finally pulls back.

His hand lingers a second too long on the girl’s arm.

She says something that makes him smile.

He grins, pats her on the shoulder, and slips away without so much as a glance over his shoulder. No number exchanged, no flirty goodbyes. Just the kind of quiet exit that makes me think maybe it wasn’t even about anything at all.

He rejoins us a few minutes later, sliding next to me at the bar as I'm waiting for Ruth to hurry up and pay for my drink. His eyes find mine, so I turn to face him. He's close to me. Like girl at the bar close. He makes a face that suggests that did not go well and I stifle a laugh.

The flutter’s still there. But it softens into something warmer. Something familiar. And I shake it off. Just a little.

It’s George.

“So,” I say, nudging his elbow, “how’s your new soulmate? Planning the wedding yet?”

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“She touched your arm. That’s legally binding in some countries.”

“She also talked at me for twenty minutes about her birth chart,” he mutters. “Apparently my Mercury is in retrograde, which means I need to ‘unblock my throat chakra.’”

I snort. “She’s not wrong. You do talk like someone who’s never processed a single emotion out loud.”

George shoots me a look, then takes a long sip of his drink like he’s trying to drown the sass. “Honestly? I panicked and told her I was gay.”

I nearly choke on my wine. “You didn’t.”

“I panicked!” he defends, eyes wide. “It was that or pretend I was into crystals. I chose the option with less homework.”

I laugh, I laugh so hard my belly hurts. I try to say that she's probably so confused as he approached her, but it gets lost in my giggles

I’m still laughing as he bumps my shoulder with his, alerting me to the fact that Ruth has finally purchased my drink, I wave for him to join our group. He tells me to wait a second,

George tilts his head toward me, mischief dancing in his eyes. “So… who’s your mate?”

I blink. “Huh?”

He nods subtly toward Ruth’s friend—the same one who gave him the full once-over when he walked over. She’s mid-laugh about something Ruth’s just said, holding her cocktail like it’s a prop in a rom-com. Cute. Confident. Exactly George’s type.

“I saw her eyeing me earlier,” he adds, all mock modesty. “What’s her deal?”

I short-circuit for a second. My brain scrambles like it’s looking for an escape hatch, and before I can think it through, I blurt out, “She has a boyfriend.”

George raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

I nod too quickly. “Yep. Long-term. Serious. Big beard.”

It’s not exactly a lie. Ruth did say she had a boyfriend… at one point. Probably. Maybe. Or maybe that was a different friend. Or maybe I just said so I didn’t have to watch George flirt with another girl tonight. Either way, it’s out there now. Floating between us, ridiculous and unnecessary.

I glance at her, then back at George. “Actually… I think they broke up.” I wince. “I think.”

His looks bewildered at my change of pace. “Well which is it?”

“I don’t know!” I hiss. “I’m not a relationship counsellor, I’m just trying to make sure you don't end up making a fool of yourself again.”

George raises an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A fool of myself?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered I’ve gotten. His eyes flicker, something sharper flashing for a split second beneath the teasing. “I just… don’t want to make a scene, y’know?”

I nod, though I'm not sure if I fully understand his coolness about it. He can for sure tell I just lied through my teeth. I look down at my drink, stirring it mindlessly, then glance up. Somehow, despite everything, I’ve ended up talking to George and pretty much only George tonight. He looks good—when doesn't he?—like he’s barely even trying. His messy hair, the way his jacket fits him just right, the way he always seems comfortable in his own skin.

I feel something stir in me, but before I can think much more on it, a guy sidles up to the bar, leaning a little too close for comfort.

"Hey, wanna dance?" he asks, his breath hot against my ear, lingering a little too long for comfort.

I give him a polite but firm smile, leaning back just enough to create some space. “No, thanks.”

He doesn’t back off, a smirk spreading across his face as he glances at George. "Is this your bird, mate?" he sneers, eyes scanning George like he's just waiting for a response. There's a challenge in his voice, as if he's testing the waters.

Without missing a beat, George shoots him a look that’s half amusement, half something more protective. “Yeah,” he says, like it's a statement rather than a question, the kind of casual confidence that used to make me feel safe, back when we both knew the drill. He puts his arm around me, just enough to make it clear that the guy’s not going to push any further.

The man hesitates for a second, then mutters something like "Alright, mate," and slinks off, disappearing into the crowd.

"Ugh I hate being called bird. Like do you want me to chirp at you?" I look at George, half-exasperated. “You didn’t have to do that.”

George just shrugs, his expression completely unbothered. “It’s nothing. Just old habits.”

I can't help but smile at that. We used to do this all the time back in uni—keeping unwanted attention off each other. It’s one of those little perks of having an opposite-sex best friend. We always had each other’s backs, no questions asked.

I can see the guy, looking between us, clearly trying to figure out if there’s more to it, but George doesn’t give him anything else. Instead, he casually nudges me with his shoulder, as if to say, Let’s get out of here.

Before I can protest, he’s already setting his empty cup down and pulling me toward the dance floor, a grin spreading across his face.

“Come on, Birthday Girl,” he says, practically dragging me through the sea of people, “let’s actually have some fun tonight, yeah?”

I let him pull me along, a little too easily. Despite the chaos around us, the clamour of voices and thudding bass, I find myself laughing, shaking off whatever that thing was I felt earlier.

And for a moment, it’s just us again. Just the two of us, like it used to be.

“George, no—” I protest through a laugh, but it’s already happening. We’re weaving through bodies and basslines, and he’s grinning like a man on a mission.

“It’s a foolproof plan,” he says, dragging me into the beat. “You pretend to be my girlfriend. We dance. Everyone wins.”

“That is not how foolproof plans work,” I say, but I’m already moving with him.

He spins me dramatically. I nearly trip. He catches me by the waist, laughing into my hair.

For a moment, it’s just the two of us again. Dizzy. Stupid. Easy.

I still feel a little bad about lying to him about Ruth's friend, But George isn’t pressing, isn’t thinking about it. And maybe that’s the part I’m clinging to—that he doesn’t need anything from me right now except this.

Just music, and limbs, and the dumb safety of knowing you’re someone’s favourite dance partner, even if only for one song.

After a few more songs—some iconic, some unrecognisable—we slip off the floor, breathless and flushed. George grabs his drink from where he left it and downs the last of it in one go.

“I think the lads are heading to Lucky’s,” he says, nodding toward the door where Chris is already half-waving, half-coaxing the others out. “You coming?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Ruth’s booked us a karaoke room at that grimy place on the corner. I’m morally obligated.”

He grins. “God help you.”

“She’s promised tequila and emotional support,” I say with a shrug.

George smiles, softer this time. “Text me when you’re home, yeah?”

“Always.”

There’s a moment—just a flicker—where we linger in each other’s space like maybe there’s something more to say. But there’s no goodbye hug, no drama. Just an easy pat on my shoulder and a, “Don’t sing Mr. Brightside. Again.”

“I make no promises,” I call after him.

He heads off with Chris and the rest of the boys, swallowed by the dark edge of the bar crowd, and I turn toward Ruth and our chaos-bound karaoke mission.

There’s no ache. No longing. Just… fuck… a flutter. A stupid, persistent flutter that starts low in my chest and rises like it’s got something to prove. I tell it to shut up. To get a grip. It’s just George.

It’s always been just George.

And yet… my stupid heart won’t listen.

xxx

The night’s winding down, and I've just hit an absolutely phenomenal rendition of Everybody Talks. The buzz of laughter and chatter hums through our private room like a fading song. My head is warm, the tequila and the night mixing into a comfortable fuzz. My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump a little.

I fish it out, squinting at the screen. It's George.

Are you still out?

I smile, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I’m still out, technically, but the bar here called last drinks 10 minutes ago, Ruth is half asleep on the couch and I’m tired. So tired that my bed sounds way more appealing than going to another bar. I don’t even question when someone says that the uber is £70.

I type back.

Yeah. We’re about to head home though.

I pause. The Uber price pops back into my mind like a punchline I can’t unhear.

Fuck, Ubers are £70. Who’s pricing London like this?

My phone buzzes again almost immediately.

Crash at mine!

That was part of our deal.

I stare at the screen, breath catching for a moment. It’s simple, casual, but somehow exactly what I needed to hear. Like a lifeline thrown over a sea of overpriced rides and fading energy.

I glance around at my friends, then back at my phone. A slow smile spreads across my face.

Maybe tonight isn’t done yet.

xxx

I step Into George’s flat, the door clicking softly behind me. I expected the usual buzz—Chris and Arthur sprawled on the couch, music thumping, the familiar chaos of a late-night kick-on.

But it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Only George is there, sitting on the worn sofa, looking a little too casual for this time of night. No Arthur teasing him about the playlist, no Chris talking a little too loudly about something I don’t care about. Just George, and that weird flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he sees me,

I drop my bag by the door and lean against the frame, suddenly aware of how still the room feels without the usual noise.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

He shrugs, grinning that lopsided smile. “Figured I’d hold down the fort.”

I smirk, dropping onto the couch beside him. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Ghosted. Probably found a better party.”

I laugh softly, feeling this strange mix of relief and something else I can’t quite name. Just George. Just us.

We settle into the living room like it’s our own private island amid the quiet hum of the city outside. The faint clink of glasses from earlier still lingers in the air, but it’s just the two of us now. No crowds, no distractions—just George and me.

He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, and I’m perched opposite on the other side, both of us locked in that comfortable rhythm of teasing and banter.

“You owe me a rematch on FIFA,” he says, grinning like he’s already won before the game’s even started.

“Oh please,” I fire back, voice light but eyes sharp, “you’re just scared of losing again. You barely even know the controls.”

He throws his head back and laughs, that rich, easy sound that always catches me off guard—like a secret only I’m allowed to hear. “Scared? Never. I’m just letting you think you’ve got a chance. Gotta keep the game interesting, right?”

I arch an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “Is that what you call it? I’d say it’s called ‘underestimating your opponent’.”

He leans forward, that mischievous glint in his eye making my heart do that stupid little skip it’s been refusing to quit all night. “Maybe I’m just playing the long game. You know, lull you into a false sense of security before I completely wipe the floor with you.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling too wide. “You keep dreaming, George. One of these days, I’m going to break your winning streak.”

His grin widens. “That day can’t come soon enough. Until then, I’ll be enjoying watching you try and fail.”

I lean in a little, lowering my voice. “Better watch out. When I win, I expect you to perform me victory dance, call it a birthday present.”

He raises his hands mock-defensively. “Deal. But be warned—I’m known for my killer dance moves.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, I saw those earlier. Didn’t exactly strike me as ‘killer’.”

“Oh, you wound me.” He points a finger at me, feigning offense. “Maybe I’ll let you be my dance partner. Then you can judge my moves up close.”

I catch that look he throws—like he’s daring me to say yes, like he’s hoping I will.

It’s ridiculous how much I want to.

But I just grin and flick his forehead. “In your dreams, George.”

He catches my hand before I pull away, holding it a moment longer than necessary. “Dreams are where the best things happen, don’t you think?”

I glance down at our hands, then back up at him, breath catching for a second. “Maybe.”

I shift in my seat, my heart pounding louder in my ears. It’s ridiculous—I’m telling myself it’s just friendship. Nothing else. But then, almost without thinking, I lean forward and press a quick, impulsive kiss to his cheek.

Immediately, the world tilts.

George freezes, his eyes wide and unblinking, locked onto me like I’m suddenly some impossible riddle he can’t solve. My heart thuds so loud I’m sure he can hear it, and my breath catches, sharp and ragged in my chest. Panic crashes in like a tidal wave, dragging me under before I even have a chance to catch myself.

What the hell did I just do?

I’ve spent so long tiptoeing around this—around him—pretending like the last few months didn’t come with a price. Like I didn’t know exactly how fragile this all was. And now I’ve gone and thrown a grenade into the middle of it.

Did I not learn my lesson?

Every warning bell I told myself to listen to—every quiet voice in the back of my head screaming don’t do this—I ignored it. Because it felt good. Because it felt like maybe, just maybe, there was something worth risking.

But looking at him now, the way his whole body stiffens, the way his jaw tightens like he’s swallowing a storm—fuck, I’m terrified.

Because I know that look. That’s the look of someone who’s about to build a wall so high it’ll take years to climb back over.

And I’m the one who place the first brick.

I want to reach out, to explain, to tell him it didn’t mean what it always means. That I’m not trying to ruin everything. Again. But my throat tightens, words catching like stones.

I’ve broken us once before. Maybe I’m just stupid enough to do it again.

And the worst part? I don’t know how to fix it.

I swallow hard and try to steady my racing heart, but the damage feels already done—impossible to rewind.

I wanted this to be different. I wanted us to be different.

But maybe some things are just too broken to mend.

And I don’t think I'm strong enough to watch him walk away again.

I pull back even further, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Sorry,” I mumble, cheeks burning, “That was— I don’t know what that was.” I instinctually start to think about where my bag is, where my phone is, if I it worth just firming a £70 Uber after all.

My hands are shaking slightly as I lean back, instinctively searching the room for my bag. My phone. Somewhere safe, somewhere away from this mess. I’m already mentally mapping out a quick exit strategy, but grounded to the couch, trying to ignore the way my chest is still tight, still buzzing with that kiss that feels like it’s carved into my skin.

Maybe I can just throw myself into the £70 Uber, call it a night, and pretend it didn’t happen. That’s always the easy out, right? Just pull the drunk card, laugh it off. Oh, I always kiss Ruth’s cheek, sorry, I’m just sooo wasted.

He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches out, fingers brushing my arm, cautious. There’s a pause—barely a heartbeat—where his hand hovers, and I it's like he’s weighing every possible outcome behind his eyes. Then, with a quiet resolve, he takes my hand and gently pulls me off my place on the couch.

I stumble a little as I rise, and he guides me between his knees. One arm slips around my waist, the other steadies my hip, and then he's tugging me down into his lap. Our controllers drop to the floor with a soft thud, forgotten.

Now I’m straddling him, knees braced on either side of his thighs. My chest is almost flush with his, barely any space between us, and I can feel the rise and fall of his breath—shallow, nervous. His hands settle on my waist, fingers splayed, thumbs brushing circles through the fabric of my shirt.

The heat of him seeps into me. Every point where we touch feels electric, like a current passing through skin and bone. The air around us grows heavy, charged, as if the room itself is holding its breath. I am too.

My heart pounds so loudly I wonder if he can hear it. I’m terrified—but I don’t want to move.

Then his lips find mine.

It’s immediate, a shock of heat. The kiss starts slow, hesitant, like he’s feeling his way through the dark. But then, without warning, it deepens, his mouth pressing harder, demanding more, like he’s been holding back forever and can’t anymore.

There’s a desperation to it, but it’s not just hunger. It’s… something else. His lips move against mine with a kind of urgency that makes my whole body hum. Each touch, each breath, builds into something hotter, more dangerous, until I’m gasping for air, my chest burning with every shallow inhale.

My hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. The world around us blurs, fades into the background—there’s nothing but this, nothing but the fire between us.

And then, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he pulls away.

I’m left there, dazed, my heart pounding in my chest, like I’ve been thrown into the ocean and can’t quite find the surface. My pulse is still racing, my breath coming in sharp gasps.

He’s looking at me, his eyes dark, impossibly intense. There’s no confusion in them, no second-guessing. Just something raw, like he knows exactly what this is and what it means. But neither of us is ready to say it out loud. Not yet.

I swallow hard, my voice shaky as I speak, barely above a whisper. “I thought I’d ruined it.”

His eyes flash—something sharp, fleeting, almost imperceptible. “Shut up.”

His voice is low, rough around the edges. Not cruel, but desperate—like he’s trying to strangle the doubt in its cradle, to silence that voice inside me that always wants to dismantle everything good before it can begin.

The space between us feels impossibly small now, strung tight like a wire. One wrong move and it could all snap. The kind of silence that teeters between breaking everything... or changing everything.

We’re frozen, breathless. Neither of us dares to move. Not yet. Not while the air is this thick with unspoken things and nearlys.

And then, before I can even fully exhale, he moves.

One hand slides up my back, firm and certain, and he pulls me in, swift and sure. His lips find mine in a kiss that doesn't ask—it claims. There’s nothing hesitant now, nothing careful. Just months, no years, of tension unravelling in a single heartbeat.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy, rushed, mouths colliding more than meeting. But it’s real. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

My hands fist in the fabric of his shirt as I kiss him back, everything else falling away. No fear. No doubt. Just this.

Finally.

xxx

TagList: @meglouise00 @migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz @mellucyx @capnjosh

[dolliedyhard]

I’ve changed many things about my Jeff over the months so it’s time 4 an update! A lot of this is copy & pasted from the old hc’s but ofc there r many new ones as well. I also made the og hc’s post private. Other than reposts u can’t access it. If i come up wit moar ideaz, I might make a part 2 or edit dis post.

To find moar information about mah Jeff, read my creepypasta AU under his section. I left some info out from here bc itz just repeating what waz said there. The doc will also expand on certain headcanons + give them moar context. So if ya interested in dat, read mah doc.

HERE HE IS! (๑>◡<๑) This is liek my “official” design 4 him. I rlly didn’t like the last ver OMGG.

♥︎Attributes♥︎

He loves keeping his hair long. He’ll never CONSIDER cutting it short. His hair is one of his favorite parts of himself.

He for certain wants his hair to be down to his waist one day

Hair type is 1c

Jeff’s hair is naturally brown. When the “incident” happened the fire made his hair temporarily black. (Ik that’s not how real logic works but cmon let me have fun >:c)

After a few months his hair went back to brown

Now he dyes his hair black bc he prefers it that way.

He smells like incense and ash

His veins are most visible in his forearms and hands

Still no voice claim :/ but if i find one I’ll update

He has dark circles under his eye from staying up for days at end

He got some sharp ass canine teeth. In my AU he got bit by a vampire. He didn’t get turned into one bc the transformation was stopped right after his vamp fang came in. #ISupportVampireJeffTheKiller!!!!1!!11!!!! X3

Warm to the touch. Doesn’t matter what season it is, his body manages to retain a significant amount of body heat.

His skin is literally ghost white. This due to bleach, lack of sunlight, and frequent blood loss.

♥︎Personality♥︎

When meeting him for the first time he comes off as an asshole.

He insults everyone and it’s hard to hell if he’s joking or not.

And if he’s really pissed he’ll get REAL creative with the insults.

Swears like a sailor

Jeff loves stroking his ego, it’s so obnoxious but he could care less.

Lowkey thinks he better than everyone

LAWD he’s handsome and he knows it

Doesn’t care about ur personal space

Will creep up on u to whisper shit in ur ear to scare you. And other stuff like that.

Gives people the nastiest stares of all time. And I dare u too say something to him about it, he’ll square TF UP.

Says some really offensive shit but he doesn’t care if you get upset because of it.

And he’ll say it loud and proud no matter how much of a dumbass he looks like saying it.

Jeff’s one of the most defiant proxies in the mansion

He listens to NO ONE and hates more than anything to be bossed around.

Though he partially listens to Slenderman, yk, bc he has to so he can live in the mansion. Masky too bc he’s Slenderman’s right hand man.

For Jeff it’s more about if you guys get along and have a good time together than having the same interests.

♥︎Interests♥︎

Wannabe lead guitarist

He’s not good enough to be the lead but his ego says otherwise.

He owns a sick ass guitar tho

Started out being emo in his early teens, now he’s more of a metal head.

(I don’t know much about nu-metal or any metal at ALL so I can’t rlly say who his favs are. SORRY IM AN EMO FUCK AT HEART OKAY???)

Listens to goth music occasionally too

Loves going to concerts no matter who’s performing

If you happen to bring up a band he’s seen live before he will 100% without fail say “I saw them live at _!” And will proceed to info dump about what went down.

Even worse if they were in their prime when he went.

Fashion wise he dresses alternative but it’s nothing fancy.

A band tee + hoodie or jacket, jeans, shoes (cons, or boots), for accessories belt and some spikes bracelets. That’s about it :v

Paints his nails black on special occasions

Likes to collect weird stuff

His biggest collection is of knifes

Some of them are ornamental and some he actually uses to kill

He gets the money to fuel his collection off the dead bodies of his victims

Also has a strange fascination with history

Specifically historical torture methods & atrocities

Sometimes he uses the same torture methods he learned about on his victims.

HUGE HORROR NERD

He collects dvds of slasher & horror movies

And of course you can’t forget about the vintage TV to play them on!

He’s not a fan of snuff films or gore videos

Killing🔪

To Jeff killing is something he does for 3 things. Survival, satisfaction, and emotional regulation.

Once he’s got you in his grasp you won’t make it out alive.

Jeff commits the worst murders when he’s having a IED or BPD episode.

He’s not a kidnapper type serial killer

He likes to get the job done by the end of the day at the longest

He loves the taste of blood and often licks it off his knife (ZOMG VAMP TENDENCIES!?!?!?!?!?!)

He thinks he can train himself to be able to taste the differences between blood types.

He just likes inflicting pain on complete strangers, it’s thrilling to him.

And it’s usually not a stab and go kill, when he first started out that’s how it was bc it was more for survival.

Now Jeff has the taste for blood. And he’s got some horrifyingly creative ways to extract it.

Nowadays you’ll be lucky if it’s a stab and go. His goal is to make sure u feel the agony, every. second. of. it.

He would never consider hurting someone close to him, that would severely fuck with him.

Since the murder of his family he has no one. So he cherishes the few people close to him a lot more than he used to.

He’s never had any regrets about any of the many murders he has committed.

The one and only time he’s ever felt bad about inflicting violence on someone is his older brother Liu.

xxx Vices xxx

Jeff is a regular smoker (hence why he smells like ash)

He’s able to blow different shapes out of smoke

Prefers cigarettes over anything else

Hates vapes tho, he think they make you look like a massive pussy.

He’ll flat out refuse to fw you if you whip out your fruity-tuti flavored e-stick when yall go on a smoke break.

Jeff’s not a big drinker

Drinking just ups his already high sex drive to the max and he acts like a complete idiot when he’s drunk. Then after all that his hangover is fucking hell.

At the most he’ll get a bit tipsy cause the boost in arousal makes sex tenfold better.

Jeff has done hard drugs b4, Ben was the one who introduced it 2 him.

Jeff started doing drugs at 15

Jeff & Ben did heroin and cocanie together

♥︎A/N: Btw in my au Jeff had a much shitter life than the og Jeffery Woods so all of this with context makes sense.

Jeff doesn’t s/h anymore but did it heavily in his teens before he went crazy.

His life was genuinely a miserable hellscape that was picking at his sanity and at every turn it only got worse.

His mother and father didn’t care about him at all. The only person that actually cared and loved Jeff was Liu. But Liu rarely showed any affection towards Jeff so it didn’t really matter how Liu felt about him.

No one knew what Jeff was doing to himself up until he ended up in the hospital with the gashes on his cheeks.

[kralierror404]

Headcanon For: Thangyu Squidgame :3

Just far warning for some suggestive ones

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁

-They have a cat called Minty and she’s like their little daughter, Thanos took a photo of himself, Namgyu and Minty together as a family photo.

-Namgyu calls Thanos Choi, he is the only one who gets to do so, while Thanos gets to call Namgyu Jeong (i hc that as his last name)

-Even when Namgyu works Thanos will sometimes go to the club just to know hes around

-Both are dreadfully bad at being alone

-They shotgun kiss, meaning Namgyu might take smoke from his cigarette or Thanos might from his vape and they blow it into eachothers mouths

-Thanos is a man who holds by the waist and hips, he just loves settling his hand there, he loves touching Namgyu all together so even when they were just friends he’d put his arm around his shoulder

-Meanwhile Namgyu prefers to peek over shoulders, putting his hands on them so he can see what Thanos is looking at.

-Namgyu had like 4 shirts belonging to his bf before they moved in together and all of them were shoved to the bottom of the closet as if they were a secret. Kinda gross but at the time so they didn’t lose their smell, he didn’t wash them.

-Thanos has taken SO so many pictures of Namgyu and put silly stickers on him or filters he doesn’t know about

-When they go to bed and cuddle there is no possible way Namgyu is getting up until Thanos wakes the next day because he has got such a strong grip on him, honestly its useful for when Thanos has nightmares and he wakes up with a start, holding Namgyu, feeling his breathing reminds him hes safe.

-Thanos had an abusive dad :(

-Namgyu had an abusive mom :[

-Whenever they get high together, they sometimes end up having a rlly needed talk about emotions, they dunno how they venture into those topics but they do and as much as they both don’t really talk about feelings, ending up doing it anyway really helps.

-Thanos is 5’11 and Namgyu is 5’9 making their height difference 2 inches

-Their smoke spot used to be (and sometimes still is) in a junkyard behind a mountain of cars

-Names in their phones are either something stupid or something sweet

-Namgyu to me is trans ftm ngl

-Thanos is pansexual, Namgyus gay

-Neither of them can cook that well but they try and they do make edible things at least

Sectioning off the suggestive hcs so feel free to scroll past!

—————————————————————

-Hickeys.everywhere.

-They’re both loud, Namgyus louder

-Switches but only on rare occasions when Thanos lets Namgyu have control

-Namgyus such an attention seeker when it comes to wanting something so he definitely will wear one of Thanos’ shirts and just his underwear then sprawl himself on the other man. In public though? He gets more bitchy and grumpy even when he’s not really, its just their sign

-Handcuffs with fur.

-Thanos is massive tease

-Both of them have so many pictures and videos saved of the other (with consent obviously). Oh and Thanos has recorded them before so he can use sounds Namgyu makes in his music

———————————————————————-

-Namgyu dyes Thanos’ hair for him when its fading

-Hyung and Namsu are also frequent nicknames in their relationship (“Gyu! How many times!?”)

-Whenever they argue, they can be quite stubborn to admit they’re wrong and say sorry

-“Bro.” “Man” and “Dude” are used just as much as the cute loving nicknames, literally you wouldn’t know their dating bc of it until youve seen them kiss on the lips

-Thanos is one to kiss all over Namgyus face until its annoying him - hes very playful with affection- like he licks his bf too. Eventually Namgyus got so used to it he doesn’t react unless it does feel weird

-PILLOW FIGHTSS

-Their fave movie is scream 1996, its their comfort movie even though they know exactly what happens and when.

END OF POST, I HOPE PPL ENJOY THESE!!

[starryjkoo]

Yoomin getting realer and realer by day. Y’all gonna see when they reveal their relationship. I use to ship Jikook but now I noticed how non-exclusive Jikook are. Yoonmin go on private dates, while Jikook video tape their dates.

Omg lmao 😭 I know it’s better to ignore trolls but thank you for the ask because I will take this opportunity to yap a bit about Jikook 🙏

Firstly, I love yoonmin! but there’s nothing exclusive about them. Jimin and Yoongi were drinking and talking about music in the middle of the night, Jimin and Namjoon were also recently drinking and talking about music in the middle of the night (NJ said for three hours iirc). Yoonmin have gotten dinner and drinks together, Jimin has also obviously gotten dinner and drinks with other members too lol. TH was the only member at dinner with JH after his concert recently, does that mean they’re dating? (also can I say how cool it is that JM has been discussing music so much with namgi and how that’s giving me hope he’s going to be more involved with the group album?). Doesn’t the yoonmin story also remind you of the yoonkook wine date? JK was at YG’s home, they were drinking wine together and YG said they suddenly started writing ppl pt2? JK also sang the guide for it iirc.

I really enjoyed CH2 yoonmin and I believe that they grew closer through the experience of preparing their albums at the same time and doing some promotions together (oh wait, isn’t that company content?). Yoongi was someone who gave Jimin a lot of encouragement and advice in CH2, but there wasn’t anything particularly abnormal or eyebrow raising about any of their interactions either. I suspect you already knew that though and I don’t really want to dissect their relationship (I will hype it anytime though because I really do like yooonmin and their DdeunDdeun ep is one of my favorite comfort contents).

(As an aside, on top of the yoonkook wine date erasure, why don’t y’all hype minimoni more? Didn’t Namjoon say that out of everyone he’s met since becoming an adult, Jimin was the one he loves and trusts the most? Didn’t he post that Jimin poster recently during his walk, and didn’t they also have late night drinks too? Also the vmin erasure? They had the most skinship moments at JH’s concert and TH also posted like three vids with JM on his IG account? Also they had the most !!! moment during the recent live AND Jimin mentioned meeting up with TH for drinks during the military era, why do you only care about tkk meeting up at the gym or ymn, hm?)

And it’s funny to compare Jikook and Yoonmin too because let’s talk about yoonminkook for a minute here. First of all, I think Yoongi’s relationship with them is cute because on top of the music discussions, he kind of just looks after them while they do their little Jikook things. I loved the funny phone call on AYS where he answered it super gruff and then we found out that he had already watched JKs performance and knew they were together (bc YG is always keeping up with all of their schedules, he even created Suchwita for the members, it’s sweet).

But the story where yoonminkook were together for dinner (drinks? it sounded like they were at one of their homes) and then Jikook straight up wandered off and ended up talking alone for hours about singing. Or Jin’s concert recently? Now that is going down in the Jikook history books because the way that JK pretty much ignored everyone else unless Jimin was talking to them first was kind of wild to witness.

JK let Yoongi walk past him twice so he could walk specifically with Jimin. JK wouldn’t even go to the car alone, he waited on JM to take his video first, literally stopped and turned around just to walk with him too. Jikook also left together despite the fact that Yoongi arrived with them. It’s even more surprising because yoonmin are the ones who live in the same apartment complex (I know there was some debate on if jkk really left together, but it really did look so based on the unedited video, and on the off chance they didn’t it’s even more hilarious JK was waiting around for JM to take his vid instead of just going to his own car like YG did). I don’t even like making all that much out of the car thing, but for the people who do, there you go. Also it was cute when yoonminkook all took their seats and then Jikook immediately just turned to each other when looking at their free ponchos.

So yeah, comparing yoonminkook is certainly a choice. Yoongi has a warm and close relationship with both of them (yoonmin also have their cat and mouse thing) but Jikook have always spent the bulk of their time together and hovered around each other in a unique way. And by always I mean actually as long as we’ve known them and not a specific few month period people want to hyper-fixate on to push a narrative, because it’s not about a few months out of context, it’s about literal years of consistency.

It’s also crazy to try and take a dig at Jikook over the topic of exclusivity. I guess when you say exclusivity you’re thinking of things like dinner or drinks or car sharing. Those are things ALL of the members have done together, and while Jikooker’s might hype or enjoy those little things too, that’s not really what they mean when they talk about Jikook and exclusive. It’s more like GCF Tokyo, the hickey, rosebowl, JKs JM live, JM flying across the world just for JKs birthday, JKs birthday thirst trap, JM being one of the only members to consistently see JK on his birthday, enlisting together, creating a show and traveling the world together, “best trips of my life”, the way they constantly bring up Tokyo, and so on.

There are no two other members who have done all the things Jikook have done together, the types of ??? moments they have had with each other, and with the crazy amount of consistency on top of all of that. That’s literally why the whole company pushed ship thing exists in the first place. Other JM/JK ships literally have to find a way to discredit their moments to make sense. Jikooker’s do not have to do that at all (even though some of them do, but that’s because they’re petty and fanwars).

Part of the problem is the intense shippers who are bored and need to turn every little crumb of something into ship proof instead of just enjoying and having fun with it. It does set them up considering those “crumbs” are generally things all members do. Although that’s literally how tkkrs thrive so it works for some I guess. For me though, those things have always been fun bonus things that are cute but it’s not why the majority of Jikooker’s think that Jikook are weird or could have something going on.

Jikook spending eighteen months together in an extremely high stress environment and then coming back and choosing to spend even more time together is honestly just crazy to me. Show me two other members who have spent that kind of time together? I don’t even know two people irl who would want to spend that much time together without taking a break first. tkk couldn’t even stay at that ski resort the same amount of time because they wanted to do different things.

Jikook got back from the military and the first thing they wanted to do was travel and make content together. They also chose to go to Jin’s concert together instead of with other members (you can say they were jet lagged but NJ literally came straight from the airport), arrived and left together, and spent most of the concert engaging with each other. Even in the most recent live Jikook were still sitting near each other and had a lot of cute moments. Jimin was down on the floor but Jungkook still reached down to touch him several times, to look at his silly face, message, reassure, and gently berate him for being too self critical (although y’all can we stop being weird and hyper analyzing JK’s every twitch and counting how many times he touches the other members? Because it’s getting weird. Also the JK jealous thing is getting excessive (not @ the ppl sharing that one video tho, that’s the fault of the OP who edited it weirdly in the first place)).

Even the infamous car conversation is so interesting to me because it implied that Jikook have different standards and expectations for their relationship and keeping up with each other than they do with other members. The fact that Jimin had to explain to JK that sometimes, despite good intentions, it can be hard to meet up with people when you’re busy (a very common phenomenon for every working adult, he even used his relationship with TH as an example) shows that this was something they hadn’t experienced before and something that wasn’t acceptable for them (despite being the norm with other members, like vmin). Also how attached they’ve been since that trip and still are is pretty crazy.

So, once again, everyone knows the whole “for the cameras thing” is bullshit created by insecure tkkrs to try and explain the reason why tkk were never together (to the extent that would validate their ship, ofc they’ve always been friends and had moments) compared to how jkk were literally always around each other and often doing something weird. The thing is that Jikook were also the duo who spent the most amount of time together OFF cam for years too, so that narrative never made sense and still doesn’t (and I'm not unpacking the reason why pushing jkk as the fanservice ship makes zero sense because that's obvious and a lot of people have already explained that).

Also AYS is never going to be a drag for Jikook. They did not have to do that show and no one was expecting a second season from them at all. It actually created drama for them because it upset their solo fanbases (especially JKs) who were already going to be upset if the no more pre-OT7 comeback solo content thing is true. It’s clearly something they did because they enjoyed it and wanted to despite the possible backlash from huge sections of the fandom.

antis talking about them traveling with staff and yet it's the same staff that they’ve known and trusted for years and have a very good relationship with. That same staff is also helping them have some privacy and freedom by allegedly making people back off and delete some of the pics and videos they were taking of them. They’d also likely have to travel with staff regardless because of the way they’re stalked, sadly. It’s also content that can be edited so they can include whatever they’re comfortable with sharing and cut out whatever they’re not. They can also just turn the cameras off whenever they want, which they did in season one. I think they enjoy having all the control in AYS that they didn’t have with BV and ITS. It’s their show and they get to call the shots and decide all the little details which they obviously enjoy doing.

Jikook chose to do something together (just like the other members are choosing to do their own solo content right now) because they like making content together, they like traveling together, and they have fun when they’re with each other. Not sure how that’s supposed to be a negative lol. It’s a great format for them to share their military stories with us, but again they definitely didn’t have to do that when none of the other members have. They obviously like sharing their funny memories, little adventures, and relaxed moments with us, which is sweet. It's probably also fun for them to have that documentation considering how much they enjoyed watching the first episode together.

Anyways, I’m not even someone who has super strong or defined opinions on Jikook and the nature of their relationship other than they’re at the very least weird with each other in a way they aren’t with any of the other members. They are clearly incredibly close, love and rely on each other a lot, and have always had a deeper emotional connection and reliance on each other (and some bizarre physical moments).

There are some Jikooker’s acting unhinged right now and I think that’s mostly because of their frustration with the fandom being mostly tkkrs who are constantly attacking jkk (which is not up for debate, I’ll just keep pointing at their numbers and big accounts compared to ours) than any sort of insecurity. If there are “insecure Jikooker’s” (as in insecure bc of other ships) they’re a tiny minority and I wouldn’t trust their judgement when it came to their opinions on Jikook either (positive or negative).

Last note is that the yoonmin moment was very cute, quick, and unserious. Jimin was laughing pretty hard the whole time. Obviously tkkrs and ynmners being annoying will do their thing, but I’m also going to blame the jkkrs who wanted to push a JK jealous narrative on that when it clearly didn’t exist if you actually watched the clip. Once again, I hope people cut that out (I know sometimes it’s not serious and just silly, but it gets to a point…)

Also I think some Jikooker’s got kind of greedy and spoiled and forgot that JM and JK actually do interact with other members lol. There’s also very obviously nothing wrong with people enjoying shipping and hyping their moments with other members if they’re not being toxic about Jikook, but I get the frustration when people will do that for other duos while downplaying jkk, or “ARMY” accounts who will hype cult narratives that just enable them to grow larger and more insane. But also I hope Jikooker’s remember that while it’s very frustrating and understandable to vent about it sometimes, it doesn’t really matter if ARMYs hype Jikook the way they do with other duos because it’s not like it matters or has ever stopped Jikook from Jikook-ing lol, so… (and there are a lot of ARMYs who hype and appreciate Jikook, they're just typically not as chronically online or as deeply involved in the most toxic parts of fandom like twt. The majority of tkkrs are kind of miserable in life which explains why they have a larger online presence tbh).

[shepscapades]

hoping my ask didnt send twice 😔😔😔😔

ive been listening to far too much Android 24 playlist bc artfight and dang do all the songs fit so well!!!! been storyboarding one for………..reasons but i was curious abt the lore behind a few songs, particularly Ego and the All Eyes on Me’s if youre willing to share

ive been imagining Phoenixs All Eyes on Me as during the height of the Evil Empire but i got nothin on Bo Burnhams All Eyes on me

STORYBOARDING ???? Okay first of all you’re insane for that /pos (you want me to die. Badly)

second of all, Ego is. Um. So RTJDFGHCGJK It’s like. Easily the most devastating song on Xisuma’s playlist (okay actually maybe not but)—it represents an extremely specific scene and moment to me from season 8 that unfortunately I can’t get into because I would DIE to be able to do a comic for it at some point (and honestly, I have an animatic/animation in my head too but that’s for me to contemplate another day) and I don’t want to spoil it, but I guess what I can say is, Ego is the. Idk. All of 24’s tension and frustrations coming to a head? But maybe that’s obvious from the nature of the song itself—it goes back and forth between xisuma and 24 I think, with 24 being the verses and the ending monologue, and Xisuma being the choruses? So hopefully that kind of gives you my mental image <3

And then I think, Phoenix’s All Eyes on Me is a follow-up to Ego, where 24 is like. Doubling down on his control ? (Thinking, from the pre-chorus bits: “Didn’t I tell you then? Didn’t I tell you not to stutter? [and] All Eyes on me, I said, I’m not that innocent [and] Didn’t I let you win? Didn’t I make it so much better? Didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I?”) and this is I think 24 relishing in the power of his control right before the big moon like, starts making his powers weaken and stuff (a la canon—I haven’t really gotten into the weeds of how all of that makes sense in dbhc yet though so uhhh gestures vaguely)

And then, Bo Burnham’s All Eyes on Me is like. I think a bitter echo of the previous all eyes on me song—a bitter a heavy reminder of everything 24 had before the season came to an abrupt end and he lost everything. I don’t know that 24 comes out of season 8 feeling particularly like. That he “won”? Considering the server got destroyed and he didn’t get to keep his control until the end, So I think this all eyes on me feels like. His circumstances mocking him?? him feeling sorry for himself, scrapping for the feelings of control and power he once had… it’s supposed to feel very empty and tragic in that sense, and I think it also feels like he’s remembering every “slight” against him in this moment… idk like. Everything Ever is coming back to haunt him once the season is over and done with. That kind of vibe

HOPEFULLY THAT;S HELPFUL. i dont Wanna go into much more details because I think it’d be more fun to explore this stuff for the first time through art but YA <3 I’m literally insane about him please send help

[renedvds]

Hiiiii!! Could u write some daeho x reader angst? I really love how u write his character and all so i was just wondering!

I was thinking of something where he and the reader had a good relationship and all but his sisters started realizing that maybe reader was treating him unfairly and talked to him about it and he ends up with breaking up with reader or talking to reader about it?

Tbh i love angst so i dont mind

I’ll be rlly happy if u do this especially bc theres not alot of new dae ho fanfics:(

tired . KANG DAE-HO

PAIRINGS: Kang Dae-Ho x gn!reader

WARNINGS: angst . breakup . no squid games . english isn't my first language but please bear with me🙏 . reader is a little bit mean in this...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: omg my first request🥹 i may know how to write meaningful deaths and angst, but this is my first time ever writing a breakup scene, so... i'm so sorry if it's mid💔

word count: ≈0.7k

“Can we talk, please?”

Your heart picked up its pace, anxiety stirring deep within the moment those words left Dae-Ho's mouth. He sounded shy, almost hesitant to confront you about whatever you'd done wrong.

You set the knife you used to cut your vegetables down on the cutting board and turned to face him. Then, you answered his question with another, “About what?"

“Ah, it's nothing big,” he downplayed the weight of his words and played with his hair. “It's just… my sisters. They noticed some strange behavior coming from you, and well, now I noticed it too.”

“Like what?” You asked, your voice coming off slightly defensive. “You're also acting strange, too. Distant, almost. I noticed.”

“Well…” Dae-Ho continued, his voice unsure, “I mean, I don't like the way you slam the door on me when you're mad, or how you give me silent treatment without explanation expect me to guess what's wrong, or when you come home later than usual without telling me first, or how you always put yourself first, or how you get easily jealous and irritated when other people talk to me…”

Your hands fell to your side as you watched Dae-Ho list the many negative habits you'd developed. You weren't even aware of them. To you, it was natural, therefore you never thought too much about it.

But Dae-Ho's sisters did, and now that he also knows the terrible treatment you've been giving him for who knows how long, you had no option but to apologize.

However, your partner didn't stop talking. He said the next words with a pained whisper, strangled, as if it crushed his own heart to realize what he had to do.

“I don't think things are working between us."

There it was. The final thread holding your relationship together had broken by Dae-Ho. As much as it hurt him to end things, he couldn't bring himself to stay with you for longer.

“What? Why?! There's… there's time! I can change! I'll change if you want me to! I can— I'll do it, really!” You pleaded and slowly walked towards him. “I know I did some wrong things, but there's no need to end everything just because of this! I don't— I just don't understand!”

“[Y/N], you've been treating me like this for months,” he bit the inside of his cheek. He apologized, just as he always does, “I'm sorry. I don't want to keep… things between us as they are. I'm sorry, I just… I can't. I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore."

“Seriously? After everything we've been through? You're just throwing our relationship away because you couldn't tell me this sooner? Unbelievable!” You snapped and Dae-Ho flinched at the sudden increase in your voice's volume.

However, he didn’t shout back. He almost never did.

“I'm sorry, I'll just… go… I need a moment, and then I'll pick up my stuff,” You rubbed your temples to soothe the irritation and left the kitchen without another word, heading towards the door. You were far too frustrated to confront him - it all felt so... sudden.

Yet, you should've seen it coming. He'd been acting distant for a long time, even going as far as avoiding you to take some time for himself. Now, it was too late to rebuild everything you just lost. All because Dae-Ho couldn't say his feelings out loud. He'd always say he's a coward, and now you can see why.

Dae-Ho remained seated and watched you storm off. Once you closed the door, he ran a hand through his hair and let out an audible, shaky sigh. He wasn't sure if it was relief or regret.

But what he did know is that he felt guilty. Guilty for being the cause of your tears. Because despite having broken things with you, his heart was pure enough to still love you, even after all you did to him.

“It's for the best,” he told himself.

And he was right.

@renedvds on tumblr . 2025/07/02 . do not translate or repost my work .

[corvessa]

Queues, Questions, and Unexpected Love

a/n: Call me weird, call me a geek but AU where theo is like a model/actor dating a weird programmer girl sounds perfect to me. Honestly thought about making more one-shots about this if it goes well, just because its cute.

Summary: As you sit and wait to get out of the low priority que, your boyfriend decides to pop in your stream and create a wholesome moment talking about how you two met

The timer on the screen ticked slowly.

9:52 remaining.

You sighed, stretching your arms above your head as your League of Legends client counted down the latest low priority queue sentence—five games, each with a ten-minute wait, because someone (you) had rage quit during a dodgy ranked game three nights ago.

"Guys, I swear this system is rigged," you muttered into your mic, spinning slightly in your gaming chair. "I’m gonna be out of low priority when I’m 40."

The chat buzzed.

- girl ur gonna age like milk before that queue ends - low prio AGAIN?? lmao - karma for locking in jungle and then leaving

You smirked. “Y’all are fake. You know I’m the best jungle you’ve ever seen.”

The minutes crawled by, and you leaned back, looking at your second monitor. The other screens were lit up with VSCode, a half-finished Godot project, and a Twitch dashboard. Your mug of coffee was cold. Your hoodie sleeves were half-pushed up. Your hair was messy, your eyeliner slightly smudged, and you were exactly where you wanted to be.

A soft knock echoed from off-camera.

“Babe?” came the warm voice.

You turned, grinning instinctively. “You wanna join me while I suffer?”

Theodore Nott appeared in the corner of the frame like a cutscene character unlocking mid-game. Tousled hair, worn grey T-shirt, sleepy blue eyes. Your chat lost it.

- OMFGGGGGGGG - IT’S HIM. THE FACE. - how is HE real. no bc HOW - chat behave 😭 this is a sacred moment

Theodore sat beside you and slipped one ear of your spare headset on, resting his chin in his hand as he scanned the chat with a lazy smile. “What are we playing?”

“League,” you muttered. “But I’m in timeout.”

He laughed. “Ah, the punishment corner.”

The chat pinged again, and then came that message. Bold. A bit rude. But... not entirely unexpected.

- Not tryna be mean but like… how did he fall in love with her? No offense. Y’all just seem like total opposites.

The chat stalled for half a beat. And then:

- uhhhhhh bro?? - MODS?? - 👀 this is gonna be good

You blinked. “Oh no,” you whispered. “Here we go.”

But Theo didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned in a bit, resting one arm on the back of your chair as he looked into the camera—calm, amused, completely unbothered.

“How did I fall in love with her?” he repeated aloud, with that slow, melodic accent that made everything he said sound like it belonged in a Netflix drama. “Easy.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow.

He smiled, eyes still locked on the chat. “She didn’t care who I was. Not once. First time we talked, she rolled her eyes at me. Called me a distraction.”

Chat: 🔥🔥🔥

- STOP THIS IS SO MOVIE CORE - SHE WON - calling a model a distraction = power move - I’m kicking my feet

“She had this setup—screens everywhere, cables like some futuristic spaghetti. I asked what she was building. She said, ‘A better world than the one you’re walking around in.’”

You slapped a hand over your face. “I DID NOT SAY THAT.”

“You did,” he grinned. “Exactly that. And I just thought, Dio mio, who is this girl who talks to code like it's poetry?”

- SHAKESPEARE WISHES - i would combust if someone said that about me 😭 - I need a Theo in my life. rn.

“She built her own PC. Built her own games. Built a community. And she still thinks she’s the ‘weird one’ in the relationship?” He shook his head. “No. I’m the lucky one. I get to love the smartest person I know. The fact that she also looks very good in sweatpants is just... bonus.”

You groaned and shoved his shoulder gently, hiding your face in your sleeve. “Theoooo.”

He chuckled. “It’s true!”

Another question popped up in chat, and Theodore read it aloud.

how did y’all even meet??

He grinned, glancing at you.

“Oh, this one’s my favorite,” he said. “So. I walk into the wrong building in Milan. Looking for a press junket for this indie film I was promoting. I see flashing lights and think, ‘Cool. Art installation.’ Turns out it’s not art—it’s her, setting up this monster of a computer at a tech convention.”

You leaned into the mic. “He asked me if it was a robot. I told him to move because he was blocking the airflow.”

Chat:

- LMAOOOOO - pls she negged him into love - girlboss levels: MAX - blocking airflow = grounds for breakup tbh

“But I was intrigued,” Theo said, shrugging. “So I stayed. I asked questions. She answered. I offered to carry her tower rig back to her car and nearly dropped it.”

“You did drop it.”

He looked sheepish. “Yes. But then I showed up to her stream that night. And every stream after. Even when I didn’t understand what the hell was happening on screen.”

You looked at him, your smile softening. “You still don’t.”

“True,” he admitted, nudging you. “But I understand you. And that’s all I really wanted to know.”

You went quiet for a second, watching the queue timer hit 00:18 and counting down. It almost felt like a metaphor.

- BRO SAID “i understand YOU” 😭😭😭 - I can’t even get a text back and she’s getting Shakespeare - chat’s collectively in love with Theodore now - someone propose to someone RIGHT NOW

The game launched with a soft chime.

“Welp,” you muttered. “Time to carry.”

Theo kissed your temple. “Don’t rage quit this time.”

“I make no promises.”

[honeyndsage]

HEAVY HANDS, HEAVY HEARTS

Chapter 2- lights, cameras, more headlines

Summary- Kaila Marshall has made it a long way from her hard upbringings in Queens, NY to her uprising boxing career. She is proud to say she did it all on her own. Her last winning match has brought quite a stir lately when her opponent dismisses her victory. Leading the media to portray her as an “angry, typical black woman.” Being the newly crowned heavyweight champion, Adonis Creed is again facing backlash and rumors questioning his loyalty and legacy after being trained by his father’s rival. When their worlds collide both parties feel a deep and unexpected connection they’ve never felt before leading to complications and maybe even confessions…

Slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, maybe smut

Nova’s Notes- first chapter was pretty short bc I got tired quickly but I’ll try and make this one longer. I can’t believe people are actually enjoying this I got 20 likes 😝

They stared at each other while his hand stayed on her thigh for a beat too long. It was like she’s trying to decide whether they will burn together or just burn each other. Finally she straightened up out of the trance that was his brown eyes and cleared her throat, Adonis removed his hand swiftly.

“So you good with kids?” She spoke up, nodding to the kids in the ring shadowboxing each other. He chuckles, “better than I am with adults.”

“What does that mean?” Kaila’s nose scrunched up in confusion. He slightly sighed, “ well you know my father died before I was even born and then my mom shortly after so I’ve never had a permanent adult figure in my life , just social works and that. And I definitely didn’t get along with them when I was a kid” a smile appeared on his face slightly showing his dimples. “What about you though, how’s your family life?”

Kaila admired Adonis’ ability to openly talk about his family and even make jokes about his upbringing, especially to someone he just met.

“Umm well my mom is in a sort of permanent rehab facility, she’s suffered from depression and bp for as long as I can remember, also she’s an alcoholic so yeah. And my father…” Kaila took a pause in her sentence….”he’s dead, been gone since I was 3”

Adonis sat in silence noticing how her already faint smile faded from her face. “I’m so-

“There’s no need for that, really. You know as much as I love to say I did it all myself, I have a pretty great aunt that practically raised me and she’s been there for every steps of the way leading to this , even this step where I’m being portrayed as an angry black woman.” Kaila shrugged her shoulders with a little smile.

Adonis nods, “ yeah well you learn quickly that these people are never satisfied. Even if you said that you felt you were lucky to win against her they would’ve still twisted your words. It’s like they want this fire in the ring but once you get out you’re supposed to be the most calm and understanding person in the world. “

“Yeah you’re right, I just hate how there’s no space for a woman like me unless I’m soft and pretty. Like me clawing my way here isn’t enough” Kaila shrugs with her head down. Time was still for a second as she saw Adonis’ hand come into view. He lifted her chin up slightly and met her eyes. “You can do both, you don’t have to explain your rage to anybody in order to feel excepted, if they don’t understand that’s on them. So be rough or be soft it doesn’t matter, and you already have the pretty part down packed.” He smirked softly.

Kaila was once again lost in his soft brown eyes, they easily let her know that what he was saying was truthful and from the heart. Her attention was diverted by him licking his lips, but before he even had a chance to lean in she slowly backed away and whispered a small “thank you”.

They ended up sitting on the ring steps after the crowd thinned out , knees grazing against each other , and passing a water bottle back and forth like this was the norm.

By 10am the next morning , TMZ already has an article published: “Boxing’s new it couple? Adonis Creed and Kaila Marshall spotted in intimate moment after charity event.”

And plastered on the front page was a picture of Adonis holding her chin up and her looking helplessly into his eyes. The other pictures were just them laughing and sitting close, nothing crazy. But none of that mattered because the narrative had already been built from the first picture alone.

Kaila slammed her gym locker harder than she intended to. The clash of the metal echoed through the room like a warning. All day she kept thinking about how she could let something like this happen. She knew about Adonis, he wasn’t a player or anything and didn’t date around a lot, but every girl wants him. Everyone knows that he’s charming and not known for letting the women that fawn over him think he doesn’t wasn’t them either. In all of the places she’d thought her career would take her, it was never in a love scandal, if that’s what you can even call it, on TMZ and especially not with Adonis Creed.

She barely made it through the morning warm-up before a trainer casually mentioned the photos to her. She told her they were plastered all over Instagram, Twitter, TikTok and even People’s magazine. But she already knew all of that, part of the reason she is training so late is because she spent 30 minutes switching between platforms seeing what the media had to say.

“Y’all was all leaned in, eyes locked like y’all was having the most important conversation in the world.” Her training partner grinned cheekily. Kaila didn’t smile back, she just stood there with a straight face. She wasn’t here all the way away from her aunt for this.

So you can see why it came to her surprise when she found him leaning against her car as she walked out the gym. He was wearing a black hoodie with grey sweats, hands in pockets like he hadn’t told her his whole life story less than 12 hours ago.

“Seriously, this guy” She muttered to herself. She unlocked her car which made Adonis jump a little. “ You following me now? Adonis looked up, “yeah I guess, you left last night before I could get your number.” She kept walking, going to the passenger side to put her bag away. “Yea, that was on purpose.” He chuckled, “damn so it’s just fuck what happened last night?

Kaila sighed, “What happened last night was a conversation, that’s it. One that especially shouldn’t have happened if it was going to be such a big thing on fucking TMZ” she emphasized the last words of her statement.

Adonis swiftly moved closer to her, hand still in pockets. Kaila was now slightly leaned back into her car. “You think I care about TMZ Kaila…. Look I know you don’t open up to people easily.” She feels clouded by his cologne, it’s warm and earthy and makes her feel safe oddly. “ I don’t either, but last night I felt like you saw me , and I hope I saw you too even if it was in the slightest bit. I don’t meet many people who get it, who get me.”

Kaila raised a brow. “you think because we trauma bonded for one night that this is gonna become some fairytale shit?” She laughed a little.

“I didn’t say that”

“you didn’t have to.” She slighted pushed past him and climbed into her car, slamming her door shut just as he leaned down. She rolled the window down halfway, lips pressed tight. “Kaila I’m not trying to play you, I know it’s messy right now for the both of us. But I’m not gonna ignore something real just because I got eyes on me. I go after what I want.”

“You don’t want this, you can ignore it for a night and in a day you’ll forget about whatever real connection we had, trust me it’s be easier for you. Yeah you have yes on you, but you’re not a black woman with an opinion and a mouth being on headlines every time you breathe. you don’t have to prove you’re real and soft. I do.” She shot back almost immediately.

He didn’t flinch at the inflection of her voice, “ I’m not asking you to be soft , I’m just asking if you feel this too.” “Feel what , Creed?” She asked. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me.”

Despite her strong tone, he smiled. “ but I want to.” And as much as she wanted it to not be true, his eyes told her that he wasn’t lying. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “let me breathe,” voice lower. “Let me figure out if this is even safe, and maybe by then you’ll have time to think if this is what t you really want.”

“It is” Adonis nodded immediately. Without saying anything else, Kaila started her engine and drove off.

[thegreatbooboosnatch]

Chapter 3 which can't be put on ao3 bc its still down T>T

Chance adjusted his hands nervously, still a little jittery from the caffeine high of the coffee from Kopi Lux had made them drink for "aesthetic reasons." Lux trailed behind scrolling through their mentions as they both wandered into the office.

“Four-point-five million followers, Chance! And now they’re getting emotionally invested. I’m seeing edits. Fan fiction.”

“Oh…” Chance blinked. “About us?”

“Obviously about us. One Luxie wrote a 10k-word slow-burn fake-to-real enemies-to-lovers arc where we run a bakery. I cry into flour. you fix my eyeliner with a spoon.”

“…that’s… kind of sweet?”

“Tragically off-brand but sweet.” Lux muttered, then stopped short as Wyndolyn popped up.

“Oh hiiiii,” she sang. “So glad you’re both here. We were just talking about you.”

“Why do you sound like you’re about to scold us?” Chance asked with a nervous smile.

“Because she is,” Rod said, poking his head out from behind Curt. “Don’t mind us, just being observant. And deeply concerned.”

Curt stood behind him like a well-dressed shadow, arms crossed, the wrinkle in his perfectly steamed brow betraying his concern.

Curt nodded solemnly. “We know about you two.”

“You announced it,” Rod reminded. “To a billion people you exhibitionist.”

“Thx for the support! No matter how backhanded it may be!” Lux rolled their eyes. 

Wyndolyn didn’t flinch. Her eyes sparkled with indignation. “That’s not what this is about,” She snapped. “We just want to know: is this real, or are you about to crash and burn like Harper and Dirk?”

Rod gasped dramatically. “Don’t say their names in vain!”

“You could summon them!” Curt hissed.

“Okay! Do not lump me in with those mildew-wrapped disasters,” Lux scoffed.

Chance winced. “We’re not like that. Really. I mean, it’s a little fake, but it’s also fun. And Lux… Lux has been—uh—great.”

Lux tilted their head at him, half-smirking. There was a flicker of something almost vulnerable behind Lux’s narrowed eyes. A glint, quickly tucked away beneath their usual smirk.

Rod looked back and forth between them. “Wait… are you actually… like, into each other?”

Curt gasped and Wyndolyn made a strangled window-squeak noise. “You’re not falling for each other, right? Right? This is just for the 'glam and GnG, yes? Because rejection is a beast.”

“Did someone say my name?” came a velvet purr from nowhere..

Enter Reggie. The air dropped five degrees in his presence

“Hellooo, loves,” Reggie cooed, eyes trailing languidly over Chance before landing with pinpoint accuracy. “You’re looking particularly… impressionable today.”

Chance shrank back slightly, but Lux shot up like a solar flare. “Oh no.”

Reggie stepped between them, brushing a finger along Chance’s arm. “So. This is the ‘boyfriend’? Mmm. Not bad. Definitely a fixer-upper, but that’s never stopped me.”

“I’m not a fixer-upper…” Chance mumbled, cheeks flushed.

Lux stepped forward, eyes blazing like high-beam headlights. “Back off, ass-beard.”

Reggie raised an amused brow with a wide smile. “Jealous?”

Lux snorted. “Please. I don’t get jealous.”

“You absolutely do,” Rod stage-whispered.

Curt nodded, clutching Rod’s sleeve. “You literally just hissed.”

Wyndolyn leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Why are you jealous, Lux? If this is just a little PR stunt, why does it bother you that someone else might want Chance?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Lux crossed their arms, lips pressed tight. “It doesn’t bother me. I just think it’s wild that someone with half a working character sheet and zero camera presence thinks they can flirt with my co-star.”

Reggie tilted his head, grinning wickedly. “Oh, my darling bulb. You care.”

Lux flared with indignation. “I do not—”

“Reggie,” Wyndolyn cut in, unusually firm. “Out. Now.”

“If I must…The drama has been delicious…” With an exaggerated sigh, Reggie winked at Chance and vanished, “You know where to find me when the campaign ends…”

Rod fanned himself. “He’s so scary-hot.”

Curt elbowed him. “Shh!”

Lux stood rigid, their jaw clenched. Chance reached out and gently touched their arm. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

The touch anchored them. And that was terrifying.

Wyndolyn watched them both with narrowed eyes before, surprisingly, she softened.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” she said gently. “But… okay. We’ll back off.”

And with a creak and a gust of fresh air, the office crowd dispersed.

“Lux?” Chance hesitantly reached out. Lux huffed angrily, spun on their heel, and stormed out of the room with a swish of glitter and pride. Leaving Chance alone in the echoing silence, but not for long.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Penelope asked, sliding up beside Chance with the quiet whoosh of paper against wood.

Jerry popped his head out from his place sitting on the ground. “Or a paperclip. I got some new ones.”

“Those are all mine!” She said annoyed but made no move to retrieve them.

Chance sighed and leaned against the desk. “You don’t have to worry.”

“We do though,” Penelope said softly. “You’ve got a gentle soul! I would know! And Lux is… a solar flare.”

Jerry nodded. “Sometimes the brightest lights burn you the fastest.”

Chance smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not what you think. I mean, yeah, they’re a little much.” The two raised their eyebrows ”Okay, a lot much. But they’ve been really… great. Actually.”

He looked down at the little sticker Lux had put on his GnG notebook earlier that day. A glittery lightbulb. Something so clearly Lux front and center of something he holds so dearly to himself.

“They show up. Even if they make a scene. They actually care about what we’re doing. Even if they pretend they don’t.”

Penelope tilted her head. “So… it’s real?”

“It’s fake,” Chance said, then added, “But… maybe not…entirely?”

Jerry whistld. “Good luck soldier.”

Chance smiled and tucked his notebook under his arm. “I better go. We’ve got a boss fight to plan.”

Later in the day, back in the living room by themself. Lux was backlit again, scrolling through filters, when Chance returned and plopped beside them.

“Uhm… you ok?” Chance asked.

Lux didn’t look up. “Mmhmm. Just photoshopping out the part where I looked like I cared.”

“…You do care, though.”  Chance’s voice was quiet, almost unsure.  “Don’t you?”

Lux didn’t reply for a second. But the blush blooming high on their cheeks answered for them. Still not looking over, they muttered,

“Only because you’re mine.”

Chance raised an eyebrow, cheeks warming. “That wasn’t in the campaign contract.”

“Oh?” Lux grinned. “Guess I’m improvising.”

They leaned against Chance’s shoulder, not a camera in sight.

Roll for Persuation

Lux and Chance are playing another GnG session together! Well at least trying too...

But after a stressful encounter with a guard, Lux comes up with the idea to fake date Chance in game and out of it.

.

I just love them man, im doing this for me and the probably two other people who wanted this

The “Forest of Forest “ was not where Lux had envisioned their Saturday night going. Certainly not crouched and hidden behind a castle wall, wincing away from the bug-covered moss while their companion, played by the ever-enthusiastic—however currently exasperated Chance, whispered loudly about the importance of stealth and infiltration.

Lux, in stark contrast, had just tried to seduce a local shopkeeper, effectively ruining Chance’s scheme.

"Oookay, so let me get this straight," Lux drawled as they brushed a nonexistent speck of dust from their golden sleeve, “Your ‘ master ’ plan involves crawling into a cellar through a drainpipe like sewer rats, instead of striding in and demanding the treasure like legends?” They asked sarcastically.

Chance, with a perpetual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, had his hands in the dirt where he drew the layout of the castle. He paused and wiped his hands together.

“It’s called subtlety, Lux,” he said simply, “You didn’t want to take on that goblin’s quest.”

“I’m not hiking up that mountain; my boots would never .”

“You didn’t want to serve a shift in the tavern either.”

“I serve , I don't serve. It's like my thing. Pay attention”

“You also didn’t wanna go hunting, or scavanging, or anything else! We need the money!” Chance frustratedly exclaimed. “Also, your charisma check failed with the shopkeeper, we can't steal from them, or anyone else in town thanks to you. The whole town now thinks you're cursed.”

“I am cursed. Cursed with being devastatingly radiant,” Lux said, flashing a grin at no one in particular. “You wouldn’t understand, Chance. You’re a sidekick. I’m a brand.” They leaned down to draw stars and hearts around where Chance had drawn a small version of them with a stick instead.

Chance’s shoulders slumped. His voice softened. “You do know this is supposed to be collaborative, right?”

Lux paused for a moment before snapping the twig in half and handing Chance a piece, admittedly a much smaller piece. “Hmmm. Collaborative, yes. But every party needs a star! My Luxies will not be impressed with this storyline.” They then continue with the dirt art, adding stick figures with heart eyes directed at Lux. Even going so far as to scribble out the dotted eyes on Chance and turning them into heart eyes as well.

He sighed. “Your followers don’t even know what campaign we’re playing.”

“They do now. I was live an hour ago talking about it. OMG speaking of!” They jump up suddenly, “GnG Livestream!! Great idea!” They whipped their camera out and began to record, shoving some leaves off a boulder nearby haphazardly to prop their camera on it.

Chance dropped his forehead into his hand with an exasperated groan. “Not again Lux!”

“Haay guys!!!! Welcome to the GnG stream!!!” They wave to the camera animatedly, “I’m here with—oh ew fix your hair we’re on camera,” Lux reaches out to run their fingers through his hair, guiding the strands to lay in a more presentable way.

Before Chance had the chance to give Lux a response, a strong hand grabbed at the back of his cloak and yanked him upwards. After getting a better look at them, Chance was able to catch a glimpse of the kingdom’s sigil on the shoulder of the guard’s armor who happened to have spotted them.

Lux instinctively shoots up to run away without Chance but trips over a small rock in their way, costing them three damage.

The guard’s yellow eyes glinted beneath their helmet. “Why are you here? Speak, or the crown will take your tongues.” His deep voice bellowed in the air.

“We’re not–We’re—” Chance fumbled over his words, not expecting the sudden confrontation.

“Don’t you lie to me boy.” The guard lifted Chance up off the ground with the grip of his cloak and stared into his eyes intimidatingly.

“Lovers,” Lux finished flatly.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the guard slowly raised a brow.

Chance looked sideways at Lux, his feet planted on the ground again but the guard's grip refused to lighten. The guard asked slowly “What?”

“Yah. We were on a date. Our anniversary date btdubs . And you’re btdubs third wheeling right now.”

“Y-Yeah we were just getting set up and you’re kind of ruining the mood.”

“Can you back off him already?! Look at you and look at me. You’re clearly not his type if you haven’t noticed.” Lux crossed his arms over their chest. “Actually don’t look at me too long, you’re not my type either.”

The armored man huffed and dropped Chance to the forest floor roughly. “What’s this then?” He says, pointing to the camera on the rock.

“Uhm…” Chance starts before being interrupted by Lux who stood in front of him confidently.

“A private date… in a forest… away from people… with a camera…I sure wonder what it could be for.”

A pause before the guard huffs a surprised breath, clearly caught off guard. Chance stared at the ground, thanking the shadow of the trees that hid the red flush on his face.

The guard quickly recovered from his shock, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the party. “Dishonesty. Prove your devotion. Kiss them, or else.”

Lux didn’t flinch. “Ugh. Fiine but you’re like super creepy for this,” they said, turning to face Chance, lips puckered mockingly. “For the narrative.”

Chance turned beet red as Lux gently took a hold of the cloak for themself and leaned in.

Later, back in the real world…

The session had ended. The guard had been narrowly tricked by their gesture of “eternal love.” The human, after participating as the dungeon master, was overall pleased at the lack of arguing between the two. Although surprised by Lux’s choices in their roleplay. Now they are currently having a nice drink with Bev on a Saturday night.

Lux recently uploaded a clip to their story labeled “Unexpected Romance Arc? #LuxiesInLove #NotClickbait #GNGGoneWrong #3amForestChallenge”. The fan comments were already rolling in at light speed.

‘I ship it.’ ‘Wait is this real??’ ‘Who is that??? hello???’ ‘LUX + CHANCE FOREVER’

Lux sat on the couch, legs over the armrest and taking up as much space on the cushions and bodily possible, scrolling through their mentions. Chance was writing in his journal, looking content to work in silence on his next oneshot.

“So,” Lux began, casually, “This whole fake dating thing? It could do numbers.”

Chance paused, not looking up, “Oh yeah I’m glad that worked, I wasn’t expecting it from you honestly, I’m glad you were able to get more into the roleplay.” He smiled politely. “Maybe it’ll help us out more in-game.”

“Yes yes roleplay fun. But why about out of game.” They sat upwards to make eye contact with Chance, stretching with their arms over their head. “We argue, we banter, we maybe make out a few times on a livestream. My Luxies will lap it up. Really lean into that booktok romantic tension stuff.”

Chance furrowed his brows confused, going to respond before Lux interrupted them again.

“Obvs you fell first because it's me of course you did, and you fell harder too.” They said while pointing their fingers dramatically towards Chance, “But, you don’t want to admit it because you’re like ‘scared of confronting your feelings’ or whatever.”

Chance blinked. “I don’t know Lux. That all sounds kinda... deceitful.”

They shrugged lazily, “You’d get free merch and clout. And I’ll keep playing with you,” Lux added offhandedly. “Mmmmmm Twice a week. Full campaigns.” Chance visibly perked up but remained silent.

“You can even do your little voiced monologues.” They offered half-heartedly.

“Deal,” He agreed quickly before adding, “As long as I get to keep playing with someone this time.”

Lux tossed them a wink. “You can say it. You’re having fun with me. You’re welcome, I know I’m so great at this”

Chance smiled, half-frustrated, half-fond. “You’re so exhausting.”

“Sorryys, I started tuning you out just now,” Lux said, stretching luxuriously, “Can’t hear you,” The sound of Lux’s voice from a video they posted filled the room as they got online immediately to make a post about ‘confronting the rumours about their relationship.’

As Chance packed his journal away he glanced up again; Lux was backlit by fairy lights, typing up a storm and glowing like they always did. He silently wondered if this was a good idea.

[prncssie]

STRAWBERRY MERINGUE

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, hobie smokes weed, you’re drunk n contact high, you get it blown in your face, exhibitionism, kinda voyeurism, use of the word nigga, use of the word pussy and cunt, public sex, fingering f. receiving, oral m. receiving, sharing of cum, degradation barely ( use of the word bitch and slut once), choking but not really, brat taming if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, lmk if i missed anything! pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie takes a long drawl of the blunt between his lips. his eyes are half lidded and his head is tilted back. in the dim lighting, you can barely tell his scleras are red but they are, pupils low and moving slow across the scenery.

he’s careful, knowing that you hate the smell. he doesn’t get it, though. you grumble every time he sparks up, claiming the smell reminds you of body odor, until you’re intoxicated yourself.

tonight, you’re indulging a bit, drunk off mixed liquors so you don’t mind. it’s the last thing you’re thinking about when he sits up and slots his mouth over yours. he blows the smoke into you, ending with a sloppy kiss.

you don’t smoke, or at least that’s what you claim. in a way, you don’t, never actually putting the paper to your lips. you just steal whatever hobie gives you because in your pretty, little head, it’s somehow better.

your body feels heavy. you’re so crossed, not thinking about how you’re tonguing hobie down in front of his friends. they’re not paying you much attention, either. this isn’t surprising, not with the explicit details hobie sometimes shares. it happens every party anyway. as long as you are both intoxicated, you’re unable to keep your hands off each other.

you mewl when he adjusts you in his lap, one hand on your back to draw you forward. your eyes flutter and your hands run over the navy blue mesh of his top. his tongue piercing is warm and bumping against the roof of your mouth.

you’re straddling his lap, standing out in the group of punks with your sparkly pink tank top and denim miniskirt. underneath you, hobie is your opposite in low waisted jeans, distressed and dark. his chains are layered and occasionally clink against each other when he moves.

you’re so in love with him and his little v line, peeking through the sliver of skin visible. you’re too greedy, grinding against his studded belt. the rhinestones don’t bump and graze your sensitive parts enough.

“mm mm,” he hums against your lips. “not here.” he kisses your cheek and creates just a bit of space between you in an attempt to keep you settled. his heart swells at the adorable disappointment in your eyes but he knows better than to comment on it. you like to villainize whatever you can to get your way and he doesn’t want to deal with you the way he usually does right here with everyone’s somewhat watchful eyes.

you sulk when he grins. he only tunes you out and takes another huff of the rolled blunt. “you jealous?” he chuckles at the expression riri, one of his bandmates, sports.

her face is contorted in disgust, being the unfortunate one to catch you two at the wrong time. “no, you’re just gross. i’ve never seen a couple so all over each other than you.”

hobie merely raises his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “i told you she was coming. you knew what that meant.” he exhales the smoke in your face again, mockingly sneering at his friend when you welcome it.

you barely hear their conversation between the insatiable throbbing in your core and the need to get inside hobie’s skin. you cling on to him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he rubs your side while you mindlessly litter dark purple hickies along his collar. his hands come up to graze your arm.

it’s his party, or rather, their party. in celebration, his band decided to have a small get together to celebrate the release of their mixtape. it was supposed to be small. now it’s turned into a house party with the amount of plus ones in attendance.

the music causes a buzz in your bloodstream. you’re delirious and horny out of your mind. somewhere down the line, you made the conscious decision to down a hefty amount of casamigos and now you’re dealing with the consequences. “ ‘bie,” you snivel. you take his hand and guide it in between your bodies until his fingers are over the growing and slightly damp spot over your panties. you pant when he applies pressure, swiping aimlessly back and forth.

the dull ache in your stomach is heightened because of his toying. your drunken mind has you trying to push down on him, only for him to remove his hand with a click of his tongue. “i told you not here. gonna have to wait, pretty girl.”

hobie can’t tell if he’s seeing things when your lips tremble. he squints, both trying to examine the details through the haze and deter you from throwing a tantrum. you’re already halfway there, assuming he doesn’t care about what you want. you’re just about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re interrupted, timed perfectly.

“hey hobes?”

both your heads turn, spotting another band member stood to the side.

karl looks untroubled as he crashes somewhere on the couch. he hums as he gets comfortable, eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous smile. “won’t believe what i gotta tell you.

“yeah?” hobie dangles one long arm off the back of the couch. he rests his head on his shoulder. the action both distracts and reminds you of your mission to decorate him in love bites.

you’re unaware of how karl turns, nodding his head in your direction. “some fucker wants to get to know your girl. saw us walking around and thought we were cool, thinks I can make something happen.”

you remain unaware still. the words don’t click in your head, no matter that hobie is speaking right here with you in his lap.

“oh?” he laughs a bit at the thought. it doesn’t bother him and happens more frequently than one would think. he’s gotten used to their gross antics but he doesn’t feel jealous. no, he’s pleased. pleased that someone else can recognize that he’s got the best girl. “hear that, princess? got a second boyfriend.” his eyes are downcast and on you.

you’re too dazed and busy to listen, covering every part of his skin until there is no space left. “don’t care,” you murmur. you’re not sure what you’re uncaring towards but it doesn’t matter. not when there are more important tasks to deal with.

hobie pulls you up by the neckline. he’s not shocked when you’re already glaring at him, convinced that, at this point, he’s torturing you. “you should. it’s rude to not speak to someone, you know.”

you feel so incredibly petulant beyond words. you blow a short breath through your nose. it takes you a second to find it, find your tone and patience. unfortunately, you can’t. “huh?” you snap.

fortunately, hobie doesn’t care. “you got a valentine or whatever the fuck. should go to talk to him.”

you know it’s not really a request.

it’s a game you both play, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see. as much as you hate being ripped away from him at times like this, you enjoy the game, too. it usually ends all hot and heavy, just how you like it.

before you’re standing he holds up a finger to karl, motioning the man to wait. hobie brings the blunt to his lip and immediately shotguns it into yours. he’s nasty about it, a hand groping your ass and rolling your hips down into his.

“jesus christ,” karl mutters. his face is scrunched up and even if the dark lighting, you can tell his cheeks are firetruck red.

yeah, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see.

you grin, patting karl’s shoulder as you stand. admittedly, you stumble a bit. your balance is all fucked up and you probably aren’t making the best decisions. “this will be you one day, bud.”

karl takes your hand in his. he can already tell you won’t be able to make it across the room without aid. you probably haven’t stood up since you sat down, too busy damn near dry humping hobie. “gee, i can only hope.”

hobie sighs, a deep rumble spreads in his chest. “not a scratch, karl.” he takes his eyes over you from head to toe, as slow as he can afford. they starting at your heels, up to the buns on either side of your head.

“we’re gonna go pimp her out, not to war.” the other rolls his eyes, trading his hand in yours to your elbow, both for more support and because he doesn’t know where you put it.

you both begin your trek around the quite spacious living room. you don’t know where you’re going and occasionally, you’re tripping over yourself. it’s not all that bad. most of the fault is because you decided to wear heels and even though they were thick and blocky, it didn’t do much in your current state.

your ankle wobbles and karl has to yank you upright. he doesn’t know how you haven’t injured yourself by now. maybe you are going to war, but with yourself. “what the hell? how much did you drink?”

you giggle with a shake of your head. “didn’t count. it’s fine! ‘m not blacked, just tipsy, maybe. oh and a little high.” you’re really not that far under the influence, you think. most of the influence is pure lust and when it’s subtracted from the occasion, you’re all bubbly.

karl looks over your shoulder. his attention is behind you and you see him wave someone over. “yeah well, try not to bust your ass. i’m calling that guy over now. his name is fuckin’ max or something like that.”

you completely forgot that’s what you came over for. it’s only been a few steps but between your bumbling and laughter, it slipped your mind. “oh. are you gonna stick around?”

“hell no,” karl sucks in his breath. his face twists and he points in pinky at hobie. “i don’t wanna be here when he gets up. you two are bad enough when you’re calm.”

sure enough, he’s still watching with a clear view from the couch in the corner. he lifts his fingers and wiggles them in a wave. you lick your lips at the sight of his hands. your pussy throbs at the thought of them pushing deep inside you.

“yeah, i’m out.” karl waves his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “i’ll be around if you need me. just call, i’ll hear you.” he doesn’t want to experience what you freaks are about to get into but he also doesn’t want to leave you here, faded with a man you don’t know.

he waits until the trade off happens and you’re left semi alone. you’re not exactly shy but nothing comes to mind. you’re uninterested, having already committing yourself to another. “max?”

“mark,” he says. he doesn’t look like anything interesting. sagging his jeans and wearing an ill fitting shirt. definitely not your type. if you lost him in a crowd, he’d disappear. his first mistake would be losing you in the first place.

however, if you want to be tossed onto the nearest surface, you have to push through it. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you flash a smile. you rock back on your feet, only to trip over yourself. without karl holding you up, you find yourself grasping for balance. an honest giggle leaves your lips at your clumsiness but it’s mistaken for delight.

mark’s hands grab at your waist and your first thought is how they don’t compare. they’re much smaller and he definitely isn’t handling you with care. you have to remind yourself not to frown when you’re jostled back onto your feet. “havin’ a lot of fun tonight? your nigga didn’t stop you?”

you can’t stop looking at his hand still holding on to you. if you weren’t turned off by his appearance, you are now with his lack of awareness. you make an excuse to bump his hand off when you “adjust” the top of your shirt. “who, karl? karl and i are not . . . definitely not.”

in mark’s head, this means you don’t have one. even if you did, there’s much doubt he’d care. “so what? you don’t have one then. you want one?”

“um . . .” you flick your eyes over to hobie. you know he’s still watching and knows it’s a universal sign that you can’t take anymore of this. “i do have one. just not him so . . .” you gather your hands together and curl them into each other.

“you can’t have friends? we don’t gotta do nothin’, just chill.” he speaks with his hands. they’re waving all in the air and smacking against each other. typically it wouldn’t annoy you but you really just don’t like this guy. “i mean, you don’t gotta tell him. he ain’t gonna go shit, anyway.”

you scoff to yourself. before you have a chance to defend your lanky little stick bug, a familiar presence subtly appears at your side.

you turn to him before he’s even looking at you.

his hand is on your cheek, gingerly. hobie isn’t glaring, nor is he smug but there’s something about him. as if he knows something mark doesn’t. and he does. he knows mark doesn’t stand a chance, knows he’s going to be upset someone like hobie has you wrapped around his finger. he knows he’s not going like the way he dresses and talks. he’s going to go off to his friends and call hobie a bitch and whatever other caveman words he can think of.

that’s exactly why he doesn’t stand a chance.

“made a new friend?” hobie finally looks at you. his gaze softens immediately and he moves forward to kiss your lips.

“something like that.” you sigh sweetly. even with your shoes, you don’t compare to his height. you have to pull yourself up. your aim is to deepen the kiss, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t oblige.

hobie only pats your butt and you pout. “thanks for comin’, man. we really appreciate it.” he doesn’t offer any sign of respect. it won’t be returned. call him mean, say he’s stereotyping, but he has enough experience to know when someone will appreciate his presence and when someone won’t.

mark grimaces. he gives hobie a once over, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. “this is your thing? shit. if i knew that, i wouldn’t have came.”

you feel something vile bubbling up in your throat. your stomach churns at his words. how dare he? he looks like every other person in the room, in this place that hobie pays for, and insults him like he’s worth something.

“well, it’s a good thing i told you then, huh? leave if you want to. have a good night.” hobie speaks before you do. he wraps his arm around your shoulder and slots his hand over your mouth. knowing your temper, he doesn’t need you making anything worse.

you both watch him stalk off in two different moods. hobie is just as calm as ever. he lets his aggression roll of his back like nothing. meanwhile, you’re grumbling about what a terrible person he is, how you don’t like him and anything you stands for.

“dumb bitch. that’s why you’re weird and bitchless.” you’re more upset he ruined the way things are supposed to go. hobie is supposed to take you in his arms and fluster both you and the third person. instead, you end up grumpy.

hobie chuckles. he massages your shoulder, adoringly watching you go on and on about how he sucks. “yeah? what’d he say to you?”

the thought alone has you groaning and going on another spiel. “he asked if you let me ‘have friends’ and ‘i don’t have to tell you’.” you crinkle your nose. as if you’d ever cheat and lie about it, or lie about anything at all. there’s no secrets in between you two and if there is any ever hesitation, it comes out eventually when the other person is ready. you can’t imagine keeping anything from him with ill intent. “you should have clocked him in the jaw,” you pivot and face him. you’re extra careful not to do it too fast and wrap your arms around his thin waist.

“while you’re standing right here? not gonna do that.” he hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you onto his waist. “you get hurt and i’ll blow this whole place up.”

with your little skirt, half your ass is out. you squeal, a hand going down to maintain as much modesty as you can. hobie is no help. he doesn’t care. his freak ass wants someone to see. getting rid of one person doesn’t mean everyone else’s eyes are no longer wandering.

he takes you back over to your original resting spot without struggle despite your wiggling and complaining that he isn’t doing anything to help you. he plops back down back, smirking when you’re bouncing from the impact. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“you’re done smoking?” you look around the group and don’t see a blunt in sight. it’s surprising from them, considering they always pass around multiple in rotation every night. you were only gone for a few minutes.

“i am. they’re not.” hobie pulls the strap of your top up. it’s fallen and despite the view of your tits he got, he didn’t particularly want everyone else to see them. not yet, at least.

he runs his hands along the tops of your thighs, straddling him. his thumb dips dangerously on the inner and dig into your bikini line when they run high.

you draw a breath, zeroing in on the action. “oh. why?” you can’t hear him when the need comes crashing back, just as strongly as it did before. you were under the impression this wouldn’t be happening and had no idea he planned on doing it here.

hobie likes you like this. he can never really describe it but you melt so easily. one touch, one graze of his fingertips and you’re all soft. it’s nice you can keep up with his libido but it’s even better when he can keep up with yours. “ ‘cause i don’t want to. why do you think?”

you don’t know what to think right now. not when his thumb grazes over your clit so slowly. it’s always you who’s so worked up while he’s so lax.

you rut against him, lip tucked under your teeth. you don’t know where to put your hands without making it obvious. he’s occupying the space in your lap and you wouldn’t dare clench the front of his shirt.

you settle for behind you, resting on your calves. in hindsight, it has the opposite effect but you’re all dizzy. you pant when he rolls the bud under his pads of his finger. you’re simultaneously regretting and rejoicing in the fact that you decided to wear a thong for the outfit. it’s thin and does nothing to dull the feeling.

a hand reaches into your peripheral. you can see the rolled smoke in between it’s fingers but you can’t be bothered to look over and see who it belongs to.

“thanks,” hobie acknowledges it. he leans into it to take his puff and tilts his head back. the remnants are released in the air rather than your face. the smell mixes with his cologne, musky and woodsy. you wouldn’t like it any other time but now. now, any part of him makes your pussy wet.

“thought you weren’t smoking,” you tilt your hips up and further into his hand.

he lets you, wanting you to become as unnerved as possible. “i wasn’t, then. i am, now.” his attention flicks down to your crotch. hobie wishes the lighting is a little better. he can’t see anything like this. sure, he can see his actions but he can’t see the effect it has on you. he can feel the damp spot when his fingers drift too far down and push into you as far as your underwear will allow.

you squirm, tempted to tug it to the side yourself. you can’t breathe under the pressure of need. how much longer is he going to delay this?

“stop movin’,” he squeezes your hip. “i let you act like act like a bitch in heat for a second but now you’re gettin’ greedy.” he doesn’t usually speak to you like this but when he does, it has you gushing. you keen while your head hangs low.

you clench your hands into fists and screw your eyes shut. “sorry.” you say while giving him your best attempt to sit still.

“and look at me. i’m playing with your cute little pussy. the least you can do is look at me.”

you shake your head in refusal but make eye contact with him, anyway. you’re shy, not because he’s toying with you, but because he’s toying with you in front of his friends, in front of everyone here.

“there you go,” he quietly praises you just under his breath, “there she is.” hobie nudges his way against you, nose poking at your neck. “it’s too bad i can’t suck on it till you’re creaming.”

you jump, your shoulder meeting your ear. it’s unintentional, following the way his breath tickles your skin. “don’t say that,” your voice is all watery.

he pulls the your baby blue panties to the side and sucks his teeth. his eyes are rolling at your words. “don’t say that? i have my fingers deep inside you and you’re telling me not to say that?”

“you don’t – ”

your body falls forward when it happens, when hobie plunges in his fingers without warning. your mouth drops open, knees digging into his side when your legs attempt to close. “ohh,” it leaves your mouth long and drawn out. the sudden stretch of his pointer and middle finger makes your body curl.

“someone just sold me these shrooms.”

you hear the crinkle of a bag somewhere nearby and the sound only gets louder. you can assume it’s being passed around but your blood is pumping in your ears. you breathe heavily, mindlessly sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

“i’d let you hold ‘em, hobes, but . . .”

his body shakes underneath you when he laughs lightly. his fingers don’t stop their incessant movements, stroking your walls. “all good. how much did you pay?”

you writhe when hobie digs into your spot, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit. you can feel a small stream of drool pooling out of your cheek. it’s more so with how chaotic you are, tongue and teeth relishing at his neck.

you feel a heavy arm stilling you against him despite your struggle.

“don’t mind her. she’s just being a baby ‘bout it.” he doesn’t apologize for his explicit acts. he apologizes for your distracting reactions, for your quiet moans. it unnerves you.

here you are, worked up and dripping in front of your boyfriend’s friends. they’re so casual about it and as much as you hate to remember, they’re not wrong to be. hobie gets off on this and by default, you do too.

“is she a baby or are you an absolute ass?”

“you’re gonna irritate me and i’m gonna take it out on her.” his lips is upturned and lazy. “so how much did you pay for it?”

you don’t care to listen to the rest of the conversation. you’re very obviously grinding downward to feel him deeper and it only results in you tightening around him with a gasp. you’re weakly tugging his face until he’s turned around.

he’s not exactly thrilled to be interrupted from his conversation but he takes pity and gives in. your lip connect, tongues immediately tangling with each other. your saliva mixes and he sucks on your tongue to satiate you. on occasion, your teeth bump and crash against each other but it doesn’t discourage you. you only lean into it.

his fingers increase their pace and he ignores the cramp in his wrists. he juts his fingers against the spot that has you digging your nails into him.

this is so surreal. you and your friends always like fun at the people who get off at your college parties. you’ve told hobie the stories in the past but he seemed disinterested. now, you’re those people at those parties and it doesn’t sound as bad.

“you cummin’?” he whispers to you and you alone. he prefers to this part to himself, only you two knowing without speculation.

your lifting your hips to escape the stimulation, mouth running dry from the way it hangs open. “mhm,” you squeal. the ball wound up tight in your core releasing, accompanying spurts of cream.

your chest heaving as you gulp out air. hobie pulls his fingers out with a low squelch only he can hear. a low whistle leaves his lips at the where his fingers glisten. you’re expecting him to press them to your tongue but your eyes widen when they continue to extend outwards. instead, they’re all in riri’s mouth.

they’re both eyeing you and you don’t know what to do. your attention darts between the both of them before focusing on the floor. your hands fiddle with your skirt. your face is burning, your whole body is.

“damn hobes,” she mumbles.

you can still feel their gaze on you, thick and heavy.

his hands are running from your back to your calves and back up again. the saliva is smearing over your skin. “i know. it’s better right from the source.” he slides your panties back in there spot and ignore how disappointed you look.

“ ‘bie,” you want to cry. you don’t want to beg in front of everyone but it’s as if he doesn’t care about you.

“stop your whinin’,” he fixes you with a pointed glare. hobie pushes you off his lap til you’re standing. “we’ll be back.” he doesn’t have to explain himself for everyone to understand what’s happening, not that he would anyway. he gets off the couch and takes your hand in his.

hobie takes you with him, guiding you to the bathroom. both your hands are clasped around his and you’re staring at him, wide eyed, rather than your surroundings.

he can feel you watching him. you’re doe eyed and it makes him harder than he already is. it’s as if he’s the only one that can fix it, and he truly is. hobie nearly tosses you into the bathroom. he slams the door behind him and flicks over the lock.

when he turns around, you’re kneeling and pawing at his jeans. you pout when you undo his zipper.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” hobie hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts it to his. “you don’t have to suck it if you don’t want to.”

“it’s not that,” you pull down his jeans . you wrap your fingers around the base and jerk your hand up and down his shaft. “you embarrassed me really bad.” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “can’t face your friends, now.”

hobie pinches your cheek. he mocks your expression before breaking out in a smile. “didn’t look embarrassed fucking yourself on my fingers. i’m not the one who licked your cum off ‘em.” he squeezes your face together until your lips are puckered.

he slaps his tip against your lips and smears the saliva-precum mix across your cheeks. you’re not moving fast enough, too busy telling him “problems” that he couldn’t care about. you don’t even mean them, just want something to irritate him with.

you shut your lips tightly and cross your arms over your chest. he’s only making you more likely to be difficult. you turn your cheek at him and stare at the rug. “not listening to me.”

hobie sighs and runs his hands over his face. he knows you’re delicate and are quick to throw a fit when you feel you have to. if he doesn’t get you under wraps, he’ll have to put in more effort in the long run. “what is it, baby? because the last time i checked, you’re the one who was about to scream my head off because i didn’t take out my dick right then and there.”

you purse your lips harder. “i wasn’t screaming. you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being dramatic?” he cannot believe you right now. he squats down until you’re levelled with each other. his hand engulfs you by the throat. he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you close. “you’re mad at me because you came. most of it was your work, though. don’t piss me off.”

neither of you say anything for the passing moment. the only movement made is the small nod of your head.

he releases you following a quick peck on your lips. he stands and you’re back to your previous task, swallowing his cock. you hollow your cheeks, hands on his thighs.

hobie grips the sink behind you. he has to siphon his strength to prevent from breaking the counter. he tries, he really does to keep himself from fucking your throat.

he always does start off as gentle, restraining himself. he watches you, watches your spit dribble and froth. his hand strokes the back of your head. he’s all langley, long enough to do so with no problems.

you realize too late when he pushes your head down until you’re choking, eyes watering with your tears. they spill over your eyes when you close them and gasp for air when he lets go.

hobie brushes your tears away while you wheeze. “couldn’t help myself.” he does feel apologetic, although he would definitely do it again. he doesn’t, though. not until you’re ready, sniffling and aligning his cock with your mouth.

you relax as much as you can. after his big push, you down more than the last attempt. you’ve never been able to fit his whole dick in your mouth, considering the length. the rest of it is beneath your hands, being squeezed and rubbed.

he can’t help the way he bucks his hips forward. he does feel guilty when you choke but it’s overwhelmed by the vibrations of your temporary struggle. still, you persist. you suck and slurp despite your need for air. you’re a bit lightheaded and grateful when hobie takes a step back and pulls himself out.

he exhales, thumb pressing on his tip and holding his cock still to discourage himself from cumming. you can’t even fathom how you make him feel. he believes even if you kissed him long enough, he could cum untouched. “you’re so good to me,” he wets his lips, the other hand on the wall. “so good, too good.”

you drink in the praise with a satisfied smile. you wriggle your toes beneath you and decide to take advantage of his lack of attention. your fingers dip between your legs and underneath your underwear.

you lean forward just enough to fingerfuck yourself. it doesn’t feel as good as when he does it, purely because your hands are much smaller than his. “hobie,” you call out to him.

his actions to last longer are almost futile when he meets your big brown eyes. “slut,” he mutters and pulls you to your feet.

you don’t hide your smile when he turns you around by your hips and pushes you down over the counter. he flips your skirt up and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

you don’t give him a chance to tease, pushing your hips back the moment you feel his dick lined up with your slit. you grip the countertop until the tips of your fingers are white and devoid of the red tint.

hobie pushes down on your the small of your back. he trails his thumb over your tramp stamp. he looms over you, your back pressed against his chest. “you’re so pretty, honey. y’know that?” he squeezes your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he thinks you look a little better like this, with tear stains streaming down your face and leaving the trails in your powder. the eyeliner you spent so long to perfect is a bit smudged and the highlight in the corner of your hair is gone.

you whine and wiggle your hips. he’s not doing enough. he’s not doing anything but talking about you and that’s not what you want. “stop talking, please.” you feel miserable, shoes clicking against the floor when you shuffle your feet.

“don’t start complainin’, you hear me? i don’t wanna hear it.” he kisses the nape of your neck and rises.

you think nothing of it. you’re awfully confident until he’s grasping your hips and snapping into you. you nearly scream, reaching back and pressing against his stomach.

hobie shoves your hand off his body and holds it instead. “what did i just say?” he much rather you squeeze his hand, nails pressing into his skin. he guides it back to the counter and leaves them both there, his other hand fucking you back onto him.

he’s using you. you can hear the the sound of impact between your skin. you can feel it too, toes curling under the straps of your heels. you can’t keep yourself quiet, moaning into the back of your hand.

for once, hobie doesn’t reprimand you about it. you can already barely stand, forehead resting against the coolness of the composite.

your legs wobble and you’re depending completely on him to hold you up. he’s a little limited in his view, unable to see your breasts bouncing underneath you. he’s not able to see your face, either.

you make up for it in the way you moan. he can hear his name slipping in, muffled in your hand. the other, underneath his, curls and coils. there is no escaping him when you’re pressed against a hard surface and he’s pressed against you.

“ ‘obie,” you pant. you bend your knee and straighten it out as a way to express your pleasure. in the end, he holds it in the air. with both your hands free, you use the hold on the counter to push back against him.

“don’t worry. i got you.” he reaches under your lifted leg, rolling your sensitive nerves between his fingers.

your back arches and you throw your head over his shoulder. your arms tremble as the waves of your orgasm comes crashing against you.

you’re dizzy, falling forward because he fucks you through it. your mouth is open and drool pools over the side. you don’t care. your cunt throbs with over sensitivity and tears begin in your eyes again.

hobie uses your back dimples as leverage. your pleas ring around in his brain but it’s all foggy. he’s so close and it’ll plaguing his thoughts. “sorry, angel. i’m so sorry.” his hand falls beside your eyes. his pace quickens and he has to cover your mouth when you get too loud.

he suddenly pulls out, spewing his cum over your ass. hobie has to take a second behind you, not that you mind. you don’t feel like moving yourself even when your tits are all squished and uncomfortable.

a few minutes pass before he takes some tissue to clean you up with soft touches. “you did so good.” he says, tossing the tissue away and getting another to wipe the slick on your thighs. “my perfect girl. you okay?”

“mhm.” you haven’t gotten up, eyes closed. your hit with an onslaught of sleepiness, your guess is from the waning influence of everything you’ve consumed tonight.

hobie pulls your underwear back up and fixes your skirt back into its place. he pulls your partially limp body up and gathers you in his arms. “are you fallin’ asleep?”

“mhm,” you hum again, coddling into his warmth.

he smiles, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you into the air. he doesn’t have to ask to know you would love to be left alone to sleep so he takes it upon himself to carry you to his room to rest.

hobie really can’t wait until you wake up and he tells you all about how he fucked you to sleep.

[sopuu]

sketch dump of some guys

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]

Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.

I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.

Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.

[akkivee]

their designs, their grief, their anger, kaibyakumon’s unexplored loneliness borne from wealth, kenji’s untouched survivor’s guilt, just them honest2god are too good for rhyme anima and might even be too good for hypmic LOL

[shima-draws]

Finished season 2…

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[myfairkatiecat]

Okay I’m going to say it, some of y’all treat the KOTLC tag like it’s a tumblr community instead of an organization system that gathers together everything people post and tag as KOTLC