#anyways i think they have this thing when they finally get together

[hayseed321]

It was the end of the second semester. Dillon one of her freshman students wasn't doing well in her Spanish class. She had seen it time and time again,students would come eager to learn and work than blow off all there studies to party with there friends. I don't know what it was but she had found something in Dillon that was special. She seen something in him she wasn't going to give up on that easy. She wasn't about to sit back and watch him ruin his life like she had seen happen to so many others. As the bell for her class rang and her students got up to exit her class she called for Dillon to come to her desk. She didn't know what she wanted to say, but new she needed to do something. She could see him roll his eyes before he turned to walk toward the front of the class.

Dillon: Uhh... Hello Ms. Fernández you wanted to see me?

Ms. Fernández: Yes Dillon. I am worried you are going to fail my class. I wish to help you anyway I can. Is this the only class you are having trouble with?

Dillon: Well, I appreciate the gesture, but this isn't any of your business how I am doing.

Ms. Fernández: Ok. Wow...I am sorry I asked. I hate to see any of my students struggle. If you ever need help, I am always here.

Dillon: I don't need your help! I hate people saying they feel sorry for me! I am not looking for your pity! How would you be able to help me anyways? Why would you want to help me?

Ms. Fernández: Well Dillon I don't feel sorry for you? I see students like you come in my class every year. They do well than they party with there friends and next thing they are failing there classes and dropping out of school. Your right I don't have to help you, but I just want to say I would like to help if you let me. You know I took alot of the same classes you are taking I bet when I went to college. I try and help my students in anyway I can. You just need to know to ask for it. Tell you what. Why don't we meet at my place three times a week Monday, Wednesday, Friday. We will go over anything you are having trouble with. I will meet your teachers,kinda like your parents would when you were in grade school.

Dillon thought about it. He could see she was willing to go out of her way to help him in anyway possible. So he agreed to meet her three nights a week 3pm at her place.

Dillon couldn't stop thinking of Ms. Fernández. He always had a crush on her. She was hot for a teacher and so kind to try and help him. He didn't want to let her down. Dillon didn't know when he would ever need to know trigonometry, molecular biology or marketing in real life. The day dragged slowly on and he found it difficult to stay focused on his clasess. He kept thinking of what she had told him "she would talk to his teachers, just as his parents had when he was in grade school." Did she want to be his mother? If his parents saw what grades he was getting they would beat him for sure! But they wouldn't know how to help. He noticed none of his other teachers offered helping like Ms. Fernández did. The bell finally rang and he found himself at the front of Ms. Fernández's house ringing her door bell. Someone opened the door but it wasn't Ms. Fernández. I am sorry I must have the wrong house. Wait who are you looking for? Ms. Fernández.

Oh you must be Dillon. I am Jessica, Ms. Fernández girlfriend please come in. Let me take your coat. I have heard so much about you. Let me tell Julie you are here. Come on into the kitchen.

Thanks Jessica. Hi Dillon, you can call me Julie. Julie and Dillon sat down and went over everything that Dillon was struggling with and what teachers he had. Julie told Dillon they needed to meet atleast three nights each week in order to catch him up with his classes. If he were to miss one there was going to be punishments. Jessica made supper than the three of them ate together. Than they said there goodbyes as Dillon left to go home. Dillon went to his classes Tuesday and Wednesday and to Julie's house after school. The next day his friends had told him of a big party Friday night. The party was on the otherside of campus and they had to bring there own drinks. Dillon didn't have a car so he rode his bike to a convenient store and bought a 30 pack of beer. Dillons friends were happy to see him. One of his crushes told him she would be glad to study with him😜 and that he might get lucky tonight! That reminded Dillon he had forgotten to go to Julie's after school 🙈 The party was amazing. It was definitely the biggest party Dillon had ever been to. There was much drinking, drugs, loud music, and sexy girls. The next morning Dillon didn't feel so good. He felt he was at a playground spinning on one of those spinning wheels and he couldn't make it stop. When he was able to check his phone he could see he had multiple missed calls and texts from Julie. He called her back and apologized for his absence from studying. Dillon lied and told Julie he was at a friend's house and he had forgotten all about studying. Monday morning came and another student in Julie's class asked Dillon if he remembered jumping into the pool from the roof of the house. Dillon shook his head no. Julie pretended not to hear as she went about teaching. Julie asked Dillon after class if he planned on meeting at her place after school to study at her place. Dillon apologized for missing Friday and agreed to meet her after school. Julie called Jessica to tell her to expect Dillon after school and to get the punishment room ready. As Dillon went through his day he remembered Julie saying if you miss one day there would be a punishment. He couldn't help but think of what Julie's punishment would be. He thought to himself what did she expect? Every student comes to have fun to college, as well as to learn. Did she expect him to go to school and not party and have fun on a Friday night? Dillon couldn't stop thinking of this the rest of the day. For some reason he felt nervous standing at Julie's door ringing the door bell. Again Jessica answered the door and welcomed him in. Hello Dillon, Julie was very disappointed with you Friday. Jessica took Dillons coat and hung it up for him on the coat rack. Please follow me. Jessica took him by the hand and led him into an adjacent room and closed the door. It looked like some sort of nursery. Jessica sat down and still had ahold of Dillons arm. Jessica asked Dillon how come he hadn't told Julie there was a party you wanted to attend?Dillon mumbled" I don't know? She undid his pants and slid them off with ease. Than caught him off balance laying Dillon across her lap. Almost immediately he felt the swats and felt the sting of each spank. Dillon was very small for his age at only 5' and very slim not alot of muscle either. Jessica had no trouble holding him down. It didn't take long and Dillon was a sobbing mess in Jessica lap. Jessica hugged Dillon and asked Dillon to tell her what he had done wrong. Dillon crying said " I went to the party and didn't tell Julie".

That's right Dillon. Julie is doing all this to try and help you. She isn't trying to make your life miserable. Why didn't you tell Julie you wanted to go to a party?

I don't know why i didn't tell Julie? I must of forgotten? Well she could of rescheduled your study for a different time but you act like a child who isn't responsible at all! Jessica picked Dillon up with ease and carried him to the changing table. Dillon hugging Jessica with both arms. Jessica pulled Dillons sneakers, pants and boxers off. Dillon was wondered what she was doing but didn't want another spanking so he figured he would keep his mouth shut. Jessica slid a diaper under him and powdered him than pulled the diaper up between his legs and fastened the tapes. She picked Dillon up and helped him off the table and stood him on the floor. Dillon noticed what he was wearing now, a short t shirt that stopped at the top of his diaper a diaper and socks. Why am I wearing a diaper? Where are my boxers and pants? Julie wanted to punish you like the age you are acting. Jessica picked Dillon up and carried him downstairs and set him in a high chair strapped him in than slid the tray in place. "Hey I can sit at the table?" Julie smiled as she saw Dillon. He looked like a little toddler the exact way she saw him. Julie spoke " Me alglegra que hayas podido Venice esta noche!" (I am glad you were able to make it tonight!"

Jessica had to hide her face from laughing as she fastened his bib behind his head.

Julie " Parece que tines much aprendizaje en tu future cercano!"(looks like you have lots of learning ahead)

Julie and Jessica kept Dillon at there home and had him do his classes from there. Dillon wasn't happy at all but his grades improved dramatically.

Lessons in love

[blackdykegirlblogger]

vi who is the biggest, fattest, meanest bottom leaning switch of all time. i don’t make the rules, fortiche does. i always knew girlie pop was a switch, but originally i assumed she was more top leaning if anything. but then s2 came along….i don’t even ship caitvi but that kiss???? changed my perspective on a lotttttt of things. 

she was also a stone cold virgin when yall first got together. she’s gotten a smooch or two from some pretty girls around the lanes when she was younger (maybe had the chance to grab a tit here and there. maybe.), but outside of that? she’s never been touched. 

it’s not that she’s unattractive or that she doesn’t have options, she’s just traumatized with extremely strong attachment issues (which i honestly feel like isn't acknowledged enough). trust me, plenty of fine candidates have attempted to shoot their shots over the years. and maybe she would talk to a girl or two for a little bit, testing the waters and such, but it never lasted very long.

this. bitch. whimpers.

^^^ at even the slightest of touches. try it out. stroke her hair, adjust the collar on one of her jackets, kiss her on the cheek. she sounds like a kicked puppy.

like previously stated, while she doesn’t top as often as most fics would have you believe, she’s still a switchy switch at heart. she’s also an absolute demon with the strap, don’t get it twisted.

she will turn your stomach inside out and leave you unable to walk for several days afterwards. she will grind your cunt against her thigh until you’ve soaked the fabric of her pants. and she will slurp on your clit like it’s a damn jolly rancher for hours at a time. don’t test her. please test her. 

anyways back to her being a bottom <3

she has pretty pierced nipples! tug on them with your mouth and she will cream her pants in record time. she’s also against wearing bras ever at any point in time, so they always poke through whatever shirt she’s wearing. (not counting pitfighter! vi, in which case she binds her tits with bandages. the point still stands tho).

as a matter of fact, it’s actually a running gag between the two of you. she’s an ass girl (I DON’T MAKE THE RULES), and you’re more of a tittie lover yourself. she slaps your ass whenever you’re bent over or walking by, and you pinch and twist at her nips until they’re pebbled and sore. 

has the stamina of a fucking horse, regardless of if she’s above or below you (or behind you hehe). the type of mf to finally agree to take a break 3 rounds in for like 4 mins, and before you know it she’s looking at you with those big sparkly eyes asking if you’re ready to go again. smh damn nympho. 

is actually a puppy dog. like, when she isn't at the gym she is 100% glued to your hip at all times. you say jump, she leaps. you say run, she sprints faster than usain bolt. you say "vi can i have a little head 🥺" and the bitch doesn't come up for air for the next 3 hours.

she will deny having a favorite position until she's out of breath, but secretly she lovessss her some backshots. like i said earlier, she loves her some ASS. and what better way to admire yours than constantly slamming it back into her hips until you're sore?

backshots with her sound like fucking bombs going off but moving on

is a squirter <3 now it doesn't happen very often and you really have to wreck her in order to get her there but when you finally do? she becomes a watergun. she hates talking about it or even admitting that it happened but you think it's the hottest thing in the world (vi squirt on me pls-)

has a daddy kink lwk but that's like a special feature you can unlock after being with her for a good amount of time (maybe like a few months or so).

will give strap but has reservations about actually taking it. getting finger fucked until she's crossed eyed? yup. head until she passes out? fuck yeah! tribbing until she's whimpering and begging you to cum all over her? sounds like a perfect friday night. what who said that . but idk, as evil as her strap game is...the idea of getting that energy thrown her way intimidates her. but hey, that's between her and her therapist.

vi's body is actually tea and we as a fandom don't appreciate it enough. it's always "caitlyn kirramountains" this and "thick thighs sevika" that, but are we ignoring how this bitch is shaped like a damn hourglass???? her ass is fat, waist is gone and she just loves whenever you take the time to acknowledge it. bc of this she ADORESSSSSSSSSSS body worship bro. like she melts for it.

[enderlovez]

Big Secret

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 2100+

Summary: You've tried to hard to keep your daughter a secret from Spencer after her father left, but what happens when this secret finally comes to light?

Content Warning: fear of abandonment, abandonment of pregnant woman, reader gets anxiety

A/N This was requested, and I'm not to sure how I did here. There'll probably be a bunch of mistakes because I'm really tired right now.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The first time Spencer asks if something's wrong, you almost laugh. Not because you find it funny in any sense of the world, but because there is something wrong, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him.

He's studying you with those piercing eyes, like he can read every thought you've ever had. His brow is furrowed in that way that makes him look younger than he is, and for a split second, you wonder if he really can hear your thoughts.

"You've been a little off lately," he says, the concerns in his voice too subtle for most people to notice, but you hear it. "Is... everything okay?"

You smile, forcing the curve of your lips to stay steady. "Everything's fine, Spence. Just a lot on my mind, you know?"

It's the truth. Sort of. Work is, as always, chaotic as hell. But there's something gnawing at you, something you can't make yourself say out loud.

Spencer doesn't push, but you know he's watching, waiting for you to say more on your own. That's the thing about him—he's patient, a quality you greatly admire. But when he wants something, he tends to get it.

You've had a few drinks together after work, spent quiet hours in coffee shops, talking about cases, about books, about life. You think you're starting to let yourself like him.

You think he might be starting to like you, too, even though the lines between friendship and... something more are still blurry, and you haven't yet figures out how to cross them without making a mess.

Then, of course, there is the little secret of your daughter—the very secret that keeps you up at night, wondering if you've already ruined whatever future could happen.

"Is everything really fine?" Spencer asks again, his voice a little softer now, like he's trying to coax the truth out of me without making it feel like an interrogation. It feels like one anyway.

You nod quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Yeah. Really. Just... personal stuff."

He watches you for a beat longer, clearly not entirely convinced, but also not going to press for more. Spencer isn't like that. He respects boundaries. He respects you, in a way that makes your chest tighten every time he looks at you, like you're something he can lose if he doesn't handle you with enough care.

And maybe that's it. Maybe you're afraid of him seeing the part of you that isn't as easy to love, the part that you're still learning to love yourself.

Maybe that's why you've kept Isla a secret, but you've never mentioned her in passing conversations, or even when he asks about your life outside the job.

You want him to see you as someone who can go out for a drink after a case without having to worry about a three-year-old waiting for her mother to come home.

But that's not you. You've got Isla. You've got your little girl, and one day, Spencer's going to have to know, as terrifying as that thought is to you.

You're not ashamed of your daughter, you could never be ashamed of your little girl.

But the last man who found out about her—her own father—ran for the hills before she was even born. The thought of Spencer doing the same, of him walking away the second he finds out about Isla, has been eating away at you from the first time you went out together.

You tell yourself it's not about him being a bad guy, because he's not. Spencer's kind and thoughtful and he doesn't seem like the type of man to judge.

But it's not like you can help the fear, that he might not want a woman with a child, especially one as young as Isla. She's the center of your world, she will always come first, and you can't risk losing Spencer for the same reason you lost Isla's father.

"Are you sure?" Spencer's voice cuts through your thoughts, soft and insistent. He's still looking at you, like he's waiting for the truth to slip from your lips, like he knows it'll happen eventually. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it a little difficult to breathe. His words, so simple, so caring, somehow makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

What would it feel like to tell him?

To let him in, to share this huge part of yourself with someone who could very well walk out of your life when he finds out?

It's easier to just nod and pretend everything's fine. It's easier to lie, to keep him at arms length, than risk him seeing who you really are—a mother, sure, but also someone who's terrified of being left again.

But Spencer doesn't deserve that. You know he doesn't deserve that, to keep wondering what's going on inside your head when he's done nothing but be there for you, day after day.

"I..." You hesitate, your breath catching in your chest. "There's something I should tell you, but it's really... it's going to complicate things."

Spencer doesn't say anything right away. He just watches you, and for a brief moment, the distance between you feels impossible to manage. You take a step forward, closing that space as best you can.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready to," he says finally, his voice so gentle that it almost breaks you. "You never have to feel obligated to tell me anything, I just want you to know I'm here if you wanna talk."

And right then, something shifts.

You're not entire sure what, but something deep inside wonders if maybe—just maybe—it might be time to tell him about the life you've tried to hard to keep hidden. About your precious little girl, and about her father who she's never known, and about the fears that keep you awake at night.

About the little girl who's waiting for you at home, her smile the only thing that keeps you going when everything else is so shaky.

"I have a daughter," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "She's three. Her name's Isla."

He blinks, processing, before his expression softens. He doesn't say anything at first, just watches you with (gorgeous) eyes of his that feel almost like they can see right into your soul.

You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. You're expecting him to step away from you, to give some polite excuse and walk out the door.

But instead, he surprises you. "I'd really like to meet her, if that's something you'd be okay with."

You blink at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. "You... you would? You want to meet Isla?"

Spencer smiles, just a little, but it's blindingly bright in your eyes. "Of course, I want to meet the little girl who obviously means so much to you."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You stand outside your apartment door, fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag, suddenly feeling like you're about to do something you can't undo.

Which, you are, but that doesn't stop your heart from thumping uncomfortably, or your stomach from fluttering with anxiety.

Spencer's standing beside you, his eyes scanning the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looks calm, maybe even a little curious, but you can tell he's waiting for you to make the first move, to invite him inside where everything will change.

It helps knowing that, if you happen to change your mind, he'll leave the second you ask him to.

The familiar hum of the building's old pipes is the only sound between you. You're about to let Spencer see Isla. You're about to let him into this part of your life you've kept so carefully hidden. And it is terrifying.

It's one thing to share a drink or talk about drinks. It's an entirely different thing to show another person the most vulnerable part of yourself.

The next door over swings open, and your neighbor, Maria, steps out. She looks up from her phone when she spots you, waving with the hand that's holding Isla's favorite stuffed bunny—she probably left it there at some point.

"Hey, just finished feeding her a few minutes ago," Maria says with a smile, but there's a hint of urgency in her voice as she checks her watch. "I was just 'boutta call you, gotta head out. You good here?"

You nod, forcing a smile as you take Isla's stuffed animal from Maria. "Yeah, thanks. She's been good today?"

"She's always good, she's a sweetheart," Maria says before turning on her heel, heading towards the stairs with quick steps. She glances back at you once to make sure you're alright before she's gone.

You watch her go, your breath catching in your throat as you unlock the door.

Every part of you is screaming that this isn't a good idea, that you're making a huge mistake by letting Spencer in, but you push those thoughts away as best you can, forcing yourself to step inside and gently pulling him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Come on in," you say, trying to sound casual, but the words sound all wrong in your own ears, and they surely sound the same to Spencer.

Spencer hesitates for a moment before stepping through the doorway. The second his foot crosses the threshold, something in the air shifts, though neither of you can name what it is.

Isla's small shoes are lined up neatly by the door beside yours, and you can hear her humming softly from the living room. It's the sound of home.

Some of the anxiety fades away. It's more strange than anything to have Spencer here, where it's all real and in front of him.

You move towards the living room, trying to steady your breath. There, sitting on the floor with a coloring book spread out in front of her and a variety of markers and pencils at her side, is Isla.

Her hair's a bit messy, the way it always gets after a nap, but her wide eyes light up the moment she notices you.

"Mommy!" Isla calls, her little face breathing into a grin as she scrambles to her feet. She's barely two and a half feet tall, one of her little hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly, the other wrapped around your legs.

You plop down on the sofa and ruffle her hair affectionately, a soft smile gracing your lips.

And then, she sees Spencer.

For a moment, Isla just stares at him, wide-eyed and quiet. Spencer's already crouched down, his hands resting gently on his knees, not moving, simply waiting for her to decide if she'll approach him or not.

You hold your breath, watching the moment unfold in real time—you've never had to share this part of your life with anyone. You've never had to share her with another person. And for a brief moment, you're more worried about how she'll react.

And then, like she's made up her mind, Isla takes a few tentative steps toward Spencer. She looks up at him, her face a picture of innocent curiosity, and before either of you can say anything, she reaches out, quickly offering him her stuffed bunny.

Oh, thank God.

Spencer looks at the bunny, then back at her, his expression softening. "Thank you," he says, his voice gentle, as it's as if a part of you clicks into place. Like he's not only accepted you, but now, he's accepting Isla, too.

He's accepting your baby, and you feel like you're going to cry.

She smiles up at him, and for a second, it feels like everything's going to be okay. He doesn't look at her like she's an obstacle, or like he doesn't know what to do.

He looks at her the way he always looks at you—with patience, and something else that you have a hard time naming.

Isla giggles, her small hand still holding the bunny, as then she shyly crawls into your lap, hiding her face against your chest.

Spencer chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he sits down beside you, observing the interaction. You rub your hand up and down Isla's back and press a firm kiss to the top of her head.

After another quiet moment, Isla crawls off you again, sitting back on the floor in front of her coloring book.

"So, uh, do you like coloring?" Spencer asks, his voice carefully light, as he looks over at Isla, who's now holding a crayon like it's the most important thing in the world.

She nods solemnly, but then grins up at him. "I like pink," she says, matter-of-factly, and then she goes back to her drawing.

Spencer's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Pink's a great color," he agrees, and you can't help but smile.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[theemporium]

Rivals to ??lovers, getting each other for secret Santa and bothering everyone around them about what to do with Jack Hughes please!

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Oh, come on!” 

“Not happening.”

“But he’s your brother!” 

“Exactly,” Luke deadpanned. “Why would I want his name in the Secret Santa when I already have to get him a gift?” 

You let out a groan. “This is the season of giving, you know. You could give me your Secret Santa name. That would really make my Christmas.” 

Luke snorted. “God, you two are literally made for each other. He tried to already do the same thing when he—“ 

The boy quickly cut himself off but you were already glaring at him. 

“Do not tell me Jack has my name,” you spoke slowly. 

Luke stayed silent. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “This cannot be happening.” 

“If anyone asks, I didn’t tell you. You worked it out yourself,” Luke spoke up. 

Your eyes snapped open. “Everyone knows we have each other?” You paused. “Did you guys plan this?!” 

Luke pressed his lips together. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Maybe we can just get each other nothing. Would be fitting.” 

“Or you can do both of yourselves a favour and finally confess how you feel,” Luke retorted with a shrug. “It would be a gift for everyone to stop seeing your weird foreplay insult thing happen every morning.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “The only feelings I have towards Jack Hughes are—”

“Severely buried under false negative emotions to hide a deeper fear of rejection that both of you faced early on in your relationship together and are too scared to push further on,” Luke interrupted. 

You blinked at him. 

“I took a psychology class in college,” Luke shrugged. “I had to write a paper on fear of rejection in adolescent relationships.”

“Who even are you?” 

“Speaking of,” Luke glanced over your head. “I think you should tell Jack you like him because he definitely likes you.” 

“I—” 

“You like me?” 

Your head snapped around to find Jack standing in the doorway, looking just as caught off guard as you. 

“Actually you like each other,” Luke corrected. “But I do recommend both of you chipping in your Secret Santa money for a good dinner somewhere. Okay, bye!” 

Jack barely paid his brother any attention, his eyes glued on you. “Is he—” 

“Do you—” 

You both paused, staring helplessly at each other.

“We should probably talk about this,” Jack said, his voice softer than you could ever remember.

“Yeah, probably,” you agreed. 

Jack swallowed, flashing you a smile that was genuine rather than spiteful. “Maybe over dinner?”

You expected to feel put off by the suggestion. You were kind of confused at the fact you didn’t. But it didn’t stop you nodding anyways.

“Pick me up at seven, Hughes.”

.

[camcat1320]

Everyone says that ATLA was a masterpiece of a series but I think it could've been even better if they would've had a 4th season.

Aaron Ehasz, the head writer, stated that he was always planning their arcs to be in 4 seasons. That's why so many things were left dangling at the end of Book 3. To me, I believe everyone's arcs are incomplete. Ehasz stated he planned to give Azula a redemption arc and to have Aang deal with the negative consequences of taking away Ozai's bending.

Unfortunately, shipping wars amongst the writers put an end to a 4th season. Bryke wanted it their way or the highway and got the final say because they're the creators.

The tea shop ending makes no sense anyways. Zuko was just made Fire Lord, why is he in the Earth Kingdom just chilling? He got work to do. Also, show me some more character development. He is 16 and ruling a nation, who struggled in his education growing up, and the whole war meeting fiasco that got him burned and banished. The kid is going to be pretty fricken nervous! Give him an identity crisis, worried that he'll end up being like his father, let him struggle with learning that he is in fact a better man than Ozai ever was.

Let Aang show his duality that we've seen hints of throughout the series. Make him deal with the consequences of taking away someone's bending, taking in the extra chi (qi) into himself. Make him struggle with his spirit-y powers. Make him chase after the girl but along the way accidentally fall in love with someone else, someone who is a better fit for him.

Give Sokka a monkey wrench to his development. He got an injured leg, expand on it! What does it mean to be a man with a disability? It's harder for him to fight so less able to protect his loved ones. Does that make him less of a man? Let him become an inventor, something he can do, focusing on his other talents. Give Sokka a character to develop a brother bond with more than what Aang or Zuko can. Give Sokka positive and negative consequences for his inventions. Let him and Suki have relationship tension to show that relationships are hard work and dedication instead of "get the girl, live happily ever after". Ember Island, Suki was glaring at Sokka as if she was irritated. Expand her character and explore this.

Katara just unlocked bloodbending and explored her dark side a little bit. At the end of Southern Raiders, she still struggled to understand what made her stop from ending Yon Rha. Explore this! Let her struggle with her identity, have her struggle with learning and embracing her duality. Help her grow to understand that everyone has a light side and a dark side and what we all strive to achieve is balance between these two. She can be a loving, compassionate healer at the same time as being a ruthless, powerful force not to be messed with.

What about Toph? She ran away from home and thinks she hurt her parents when she did. She misses her parents and wants to reach out to them, sending a letter with Katara's help. Let her reunite with her family, let them reconcile and give backstory as to why her parents are the way they are. Her arc was mostly about letting people in and softening the hard exterior she had made for herself. Take it further!

I can keep going on for even the smallest of side characters. But in the end, let it be mainly about chosen family. That we are better together in a diverse world, reaching hands across national borders, appreciating similarities and respecting differences. This could've been the greatest show of all time if it only had a 4th season.

This is why I'm writing Book 4: Air myself. Correcting the injustice the creators have done to the beautiful series.

No, it’s no development if Mai—who is known for her specific traits such as her apathy—suddenly starts acting completely differently, just because the plot takes place a few years after her first introduction.

Either you show me how she changed within the story, or, if this would take too long, with a brief retrospective. But the reason has to be shown or at least mentioned. This is still storytelling and not the real world where you run into an old acquaintance after years, notice they’ve changed, and you’re just like: Oh, they must’ve gained a more positive attitude, good for them. She is a character of a TV show, written with specific traits.

From what I’ve seen, Mai in the new comic is introduced as just always being anti-imperialist and loving—we all just completely misunderstood her, right?

And, honestly, I would’ve been happy for her, if she had undergone real character growth, learning to show love and affection while gaining strong beliefs in anti-imperialism. That would actually make for a compelling story I would love to read.

But no, this time, it’s not only retconning past criticisms through the ATLA comics. The creators are acting as though she has always been this way. 🙄 Not to mention that the story itself doesn’t make any sense. And, as always, there are the stans who are acting as if the characters are real people, and there is no storytelling needed... This is indeed a phenomenon.

[captainx-camino]

I'm taking Viktor to the Ball at a convention we're attending in January and, naturally, I needed a Ball outfit for that, so...

It's almost done! I'm gonna be putting the hammer symbol that Jayce has on his white coat on the back of this one and a few random cogs on the exposed breast of the coat before it's all said and done but WOO! Nearly there.

Which means, it's time for an outfit breakdown! (And a mental one. I only have a few more days until I have to pack and I still have to finish a different Jayce outfit.)

But, anyway!

I wanted to go with a princely look and I honestly think I just about nailed it.

-The coat and vest were purchased as to save myself time, since I decided to do this very last minute. I did take up the sleeves and fix the fit though so... *Shrugs* The corset vest is part of my outfit for my wedding next year to my own, actual lovely partner (who is also my Viktor). So, I already had that. Yippee.

-The shirt was just one I had in my closet that I had to take in since I've lost weight. So, already had and more fitting there.

-I did add the epaulettes to the coat, which I made by hand out of craft foam, fancy trim, and ribbon. (I layered a red ribbon over the gold trim for an extra pop of color).

-The tie was made by above mentioned partner, who made us matching ones for both our outfits. I made the little gear tie pin though out of an adjustable ring base and a couple random jewelry gears from a multi pack we have (that will also be used to decorate the breast).

-The capelette is based off The Blanket™️ and has red lining, just like said blanket does. I sewed in curtain ropes and decorative closures for some added pizzazz both where it's sewn into the capelette and where it clips around the body. The capelette also has a shoulder seam, as well as a lapel. Which was a pain in the ass. I do not recommend having to do either lmao

-The pants were also purchased, and have a double closer on the front in a very steampunk way (I wasn't about to attempt to make that in a crunch I'm already struggling lol) I will also probably be folding them so they're cuffed at the bottom, but we'll see how that works out in my final fitting.

-The shoes were thrifted and were all black when I got them. I used leather paint to paint them with the red panels, added gold trim, painted the outside of the soles gold, and there is a little hex crystal shape on the bottom of the soles that I painted blue. I also switched out black laces for maroon because they fit better with the look.

-The gloves are the same gloves I got for Jayce's black outfit and are getting a little clip added later, but otherwise nothing fancy or crazy has been done with those.

-And finally, the wristband is from Willow Creative and literally my favorite thing I have ever bought ever. I highly recommend them if you're looking for a good Jayce bracelet! Absolutely gorgeous.

For those curious, this is what's being cut out and added to the back of the coat (sorry it's a bad drawing I just needed to see what it would all look like together)

I have a couple different gold fabrics for the main body of the hammer and some nice brown filigreed damask for the brown. (White boarder will probably just be foam so it's easier to attach to the back.)

That will be added as soon as I have it completed, hopefully later today.

But yey! Jayce Talis Ball outfit!

I am so looking forward to dancing with my Viktor.

[sparks-and-smoke]

Would it be possible to get a fic about Bucky and his GF getting caught on a date by the media. The GF is Pluse size and maybe someone makes a mean comment about her size? Cue protective Bucky who LOVES his girl so much

This is precious. And while I am almost certain you mean normal Bucky I had an idea for a popstar reader soooo. You’re getting Bodyguard Bucky. Ooops~ hope you like it anyway. 🩵

Characters/Pairings: Bodyguard!Bucky x Plus size popstar! Reader

Content/Warnings: fatphobia, body image issues, and illusions to smut at the end. Bucky is gonna be super sweet, but if this kind of thing triggers you steer clear. Stay safe, babes!

Author Note: this is written on my phone, and not beta read. So… extend me some grace :)

It was almost preternatural in a way, the way Bucky could sense when you weren’t ok. The way he seemed to know the moment he walked in your door that he was gonna have to chase away storm clouds, but it never failed. Your bodyguard always knew. And he made it his life mission to keep his sunshine girl from flickering out.

“What have you been reading.” He asked, his face stern and jaw clenched but his eyes softer then they had any right to be.

You sigh, turning off your phone screen and setting it face down, “Nothing, just an article.”

“An article about you?” He asked, tilting his head to try and see your eyes. He already knew the answer, because he followed what the media was saying. From the moment you stepped onto the scene the topic of discussion hovered around your weight more then it had any right to be. It didn’t matter that you had a voice that gave people goose bumps or that your presence on stage could light up a stadium all on your own. Because you weren’t a tiny little Barbie doll none of that seemed to matter.

You had been a beacon of positivity through it all though. Using your platform and following to promote self love and healthy habits at all sizes. Focusing on moving your body and prioritizing health over weight or measurements. Bucky adored you for it. Thought you were an angel, deserving of the world. Ans he wished everyone else thought that as well.

“Stars did an article on me.” You admitted, getting up and heading to the kitchen for some water. Not meeting Buckys eyes. “They are covering my casting in hairspray.”

“Yeah?” Bucky followed closely behind. He was proud of you for landing that role. You deserved it, you were gonna be a perfect Tracey. “What about it.”

You still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s nothing James. There just saying I’m perfect for the role.”

Jame. James?! You never called him James. He was always Bucky, sometimes Bucky baby if you were really in a mood. That’s how he knew whatever they had written had hit a chord. “Angel… what did it say.”

You just shake your head and down your water. It really didn’t matter. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t been said before. To be honest, you don’t know why it was bumming you out so badly.

Except you did know why. Because you had dreamed of being on broadway your entire life. Since you were a little girl. And now… that dream was coming true. But all anyone wanted to talk about was how the plus sized popstar landed the fat girl role because what else could she be…

“Angel. You’re thinking awfully loud over there. You gonna tell me or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?” He stepped in closer. His smoky sweet aftershave wafting around you, pulling your eyes up to look at him. His glacial blue eyes were begging, pleading you to talk.

“They-“ you sigh, shoulders drooping. “They got a picture of me coming out of rehearsal. I’m in sweats, it’s unflattering and the whole article is about how I’ve put on weight for the role. Which I haven’t, if anything I’ve lost some from constant practices. But that’s not the point..” your voice cracks.

“I’m tired James. I am tired of having to be put together all the time or the paparazzi makes it all about how I let myself go. I finally reached what I concider to be a highlight of my career-” You voice cracks. The damn that had been slowly cracking inside your chest finally breaking. “And all anyone wanted to to talk about is how my thighs look in my sweats!”

Bucky was already moving. Pulling you into his arms. Tucking your eyes up under his chin as you shake with anger and frustration. Smoothing your hair from your face and kissing your temple with a lingering touch. “There we go, let it out.”

He lets you rant. Pushing down his own anger and frustration. You were the most beautiful person he knew. Inside and out. He had worked for a couple different celebrities over the years and none had the same golden heart as you. None. “I’m so sorry Angel. It’s a load of shit and we both know it but I know thy doesn’t make it easier.”

He closed his eyes. Kissing your hair. “You are beautiful. Every inch of you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I hope you know that.” He pulls back to look into your red rimmed eyes. Cupping your cheek. “You are talented and charming and you draw people to you like flies to honey. And everyone with a brain can see it. I promise. Whoever wrote that article was poking at low hanging fruit that anyone of substance doesn’t care about. You are perfect.”

His voice drips with sincerity as his eyes roam your face. Pads of his thumb wiping away angry tears. “I think you need to put down your phone for the day. Why don’t you give it to me or to Alice and we’ll focus on things that actually matte today ok?”

You blink away tears, considering it. You could hand off your phone. Let your assistant answer your phone for the day, she will let her know if it’s something she needs to answer directly. But, unplugging was hard-

“Come on angel, we will go punch some stuff at the gym. And then I’ll take you for froyo at that boba place you like.” He tucks your hair behind your ear. “And then you can shower and I’ll help you unwind before you have your go practice tonight. How about that.” His voice was laced with promise. With sweet dark temptation as he leans forward and whispers the thing he could do to help you feel better. And you bite your lip as you know he will follow through on every one.

“How about we shower first?”

Bucky smiles, guiding you back toward your room as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt. “Whatever you want princess, let me show you how perfect I really think you are~”

[morgana-larkin]

Hiii!! I have a Melissa x reader request because I just lived for the newest episodes. (We shall ignore the firefighter’s existence for the sake of my idea.)

It’s set when Melissa is just focused on hosting the Schemmenti Christmas Eve dinner and reader is just trying to get her to relax like while she’s cooking, she’ll hug her from behind or give her little pep talks. But Melissa’s cooking isn’t the only thing she’s worried about. All this time her family has been asking of when she’s finally gonna tie someone down and Melissa always dismisses them. But this dinner, she hinted at finally finding someone, never disclosing the gender. She hasn’t told her family about r for obvious reasons but Melissa thought it was time r finally met them. Once everyone arrives, Melissa would finally introduce r as her girlfriend. But Melissa panics after one of her family members makes a homophobic comment towards Jacob and says that r is simply a friend who had nowhere to go for Christmas Eve. After having a private talk with Melissa, r understands her situation and is fine with holding off on telling her family. During the dinner, everyone stills hounds Melissa about when she’s gonna find a husband. Seeing r hurt by these comments, Melissa finally tells them that she has found someone and reaches for r. Obviously, everyone’s shocked (aside from Jacob, Caleb, and Barbra) but they all agreed to decide to put their differences aside as they loved Melissa more than their homophobia and due to the fact that she was able to cook good food without having a man. I really can’t think of an ending, but I hope you still consider my request :)

Hi Anon and thank you for the request! I wasn’t going to do Melissa prompts until the new year but this was a Christmas one so why not? I would have had this out a couple days ago but I had 3 Christmas parties to attend (big families). Anyway I am working on my last 2 Chessy prompts and should be out soon! I’m all for ignoring the firefighters existence so I was more than happy to write this. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: Thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me for all my crazy fics! Consider this a late Christmas gift from me or a gift for whatever holiday you celebrate and a have a happy New Year! 🥳

Her Friend Named Y/n

Warnings: Melissa’s family being stronzos, slight homophobia and racism

Words: 3k

“Melissa, relax. You’ve been making this food for the past 2 weeks and they’re gonna love it.” You tell her and then she gets you to taste test something else. “Amazing like always. Everything you get me to taste test is to die for.” You tell her and she smiles and then goes back to cooking.” You go up to her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist. You feel her lean into your touch for a second then she goes back to cooking.

“Y/n, unless you want to get burnt by the stove then I suggest you move your hands.” She says to you and you pull away from her but stay close by.

“Melissa, you need to relax, your family is gonna love it.” You tell her and she glances at you.

“You know my cooking is not the only thing I’m worried about Y/n.” She tells you and you sigh.

“I know but I’ll turn on my charm and I’ll get them to love me before telling them we’re together.” You say and she rolls her eyes.

“What charm?” She teases with a smile.

“The one that I got you with.” You counter quickly and she snorts.

“If I recall, you were clumsy around me, both physically and verbally.” She tells you and you run your fingers through her hair.

“Because how could someone act normal around you? You’re smoking hot and incredibly smart.” You say and she gives you a kiss.

“I really hope they love you, because I do.” She smiles at you before going back to cooking. You then both hear the doorbell ring and then Melissa goes to go get it and you follow after her.

“Jeez, are we early? Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Kriste Marie tells her and you see Melissa’s unimpressed face.

“It’s nice to see you too, sis.” Melissa tells her and then pats her partner’s back. “Dom.” She adds and then closes the door.

You go back into the kitchen with her and you see her continuing to cook.

“Are you going to be ok in here?” You ask her and she nods.

“Ya I’ll be fine, just gotta finish the cooking.” She tells you and then you hear the doorbell ring and Jacob goes to open it.

“Alright, I’ll go introduce myself to everyone.” You tell her and she nods.

“Go charm my family then.” She says and you give her another kiss before going to the living room. From the pictures she showed you, you instantly recognise her brother Seamus and her mom Teresa.

“Hello.” Jacob tells them and then they look around before their eyes land on you and Caleb.

“Who are you two?” Seamus asks.

“I’m Y/n, a friend of Melissa’s.” You say and hold out a hand to shake.

“I’m Caleb, Jacob’s brother, Melissa invited me. Pleasure to meet you both.” He says and then shakes their hands.

“I’m Seamus, Melissa’s youngest brother.” He says and shakes both of your hands.

“I’m Teresa, Melissa’s mother.” She says and doesn’t shake either of your hands. You and Caleb both put your hands down quickly after realizing and then don’t know what to do.

“May I take your coats?” Jacob offers and they give him their coats and then he runs upstairs.

“Well hello honey.” Teresa says and you turn around to see Melissa.

“Hi Ma.” Melissa says and then hugs her. “Y/n, do you mind coming into the kitchen with me please?” She asks you and you nod before following her.

“Melissa what’s wrong?” You ask her once you reach the kitchen.

“That’s my mom out there.” She says and you nod. “If she doesn’t like you then that’s not good for us. You know I love my family but they have cut people off if they don’t like their partner.” She tells you.

“Oh, so if your mom doesn’t like me then we can’t be together.” You say and she looks at you.

“If she doesn’t like you then I don’t know who to choose. Also no one in my family is gay or bisexual, at least that I know of.” She tells you and then she starts stressing out.

“Ok, Melissa, that’s why we agreed that we’ll see what your family thinks about me before we tell them. Totally neutral opinion about me, no bias or anything.” You tell her and she nods.

“I know, I know.” She says and then the doorbell rings and you hear more people coming in. “Can you just stay with me in here for a few minutes and taste test more food?” She asks and you nod with a smile.

10 minutes later and you walk out to see about 10 people here and a couple kids run into the basement.

“There’s a lot of kids in that basement.” Jacob tells you when he sees you walk out.

“Well she already told us that most people have like 3 kids.” You tell him. “Who are all these people, do you know?” You ask him and he looks at everyone.

“That’s Uncle Archie, then that’s Kristen Marie, Dom Marie, Mark, Marie, Matthew. Then Maria Christina, Craig, girl Toni. Boy Tony is still in prison but apparently there’s a card going around for him to sign. Then there’s Larry, Anthony, Seamus. I think about 30 kids in the basement and then of course you’ve already met Mrs Teresa Schemmenti.” He tells you and you widen your eyes a bit at the amount of names he remembers. Everyone looks at you as they were all being introduced to you and you gulp.

“Hi everyone, I’m Y/n, Melissa’s friend.” You tell them all and they all nod then go back to their conversations. Just then Melissa comes out with some more food.

“Honey, you’re trying something different with your makeup? You’re so brave.” Teresa tells her and Melissa sighs.

“Thanks Ma.” Melissa tells her.

“I love visiting you Mel.” Anthony tells her. “Something about being around you really makes me feel better about myself.” He says and Melissa rolls her eyes.

“And that’s why I love having you, Anthony.” Melissa tells him and you smile.

“Marie, did this place get smaller?” Uncle Archie asks Melissa.

“I’m Melissa, and no, my place did not magically shrink.”

“Ah, I guess you just got bigger then.” He says and then laughs.

“Archie, what would she need a bigger place for?” Teresa says. “She lives with a roommate, unmarried and alone.” She adds and Melissa nods her head, knowing the subject will come up.

“Yeah?”

“You’re so insensitive.” Teresa tells him.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Uncle Archie asks and then the doorbell rings. Melissa goes to get in and then you see Barb and Gerald there and Melissa says hi to them. You walk up to them and give them a hug hello. “Ah. Nobody told me this would be one of those progressive parties.” Archie says and you both turn to look at him.

“Do you want to get strangled?” Melissa says and then Jacob cuts in and Archie goes to take a nap upstairs. Jacob then introduces everyone to Barb and Gerald.

“You forgot Nancy and Dorothy.” Archie says from the stairs.

“There’s nobody here named Nancy or Dorothy.” Jacob tells him.

“I was talking about you, Y/n and your boyfriend.” He says and laughs.

“Ok normally I respect my elders but this guy.” Caleb says and you and Melissa hold him back.

“Archie, Y/n is not gay. Just one of Melissa’s friends that had nowhere to go for Christmas Eve.” Teresa says and you look at Melissa. “Melissa, you seem to have forgotten to tell us that you invited a gay man and black people here.” Teresa tells her daughter and Melissa sighs.

“I didn’t think it would matter as it’s my place and they’re my friends.” Melissa tells her mom.

“Y/n, you seem so young and beautiful. Why haven’t you been able to land a man and be with his family for Christmas?” Teresa asks you and Melissa groans. “Melissa, can I not ask your friend a question? Also didn’t you say that you might have found a man?” Teresa asks her.

“I need to talk to Y/n for a moment alone.” Melissa says and then storms into the kitchen. You follow her and then she turns around to look at you. “I think we should hold off on introducing you as my girlfriend.” She tells you and you look at her confused.

“Why? I thought you were excited to finally introduce me to them?” You ask her and holds your hand.

“I am, I was. But I don’t know how they’ll react to me having a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend. You heard my Ma in there. She thinks you should be with a man instead because you’re young and beautiful and didn’t defend Jacob when her brother called him Nancy.” She tells you and you can tell she’s scared.

“Alright, it’s ok Melissa. We can hold off until you’re absolutely ready.” You tell her and she looks at you and smiles.

“Thank you.” She says and gives you a hug.

“Is everything ready? Gerald and a few other people are wondering about that.” Barb says as she enters the kitchen.

“Ah, ya, just a couple more minutes.” Melissa tells her and looks over at the food on the stove.

“Is everything alright?” She says as she senses some tension.

“We’re holding off on introducing me as her girlfriend.” You tell Barb and she looks at you and Melissa.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think my family is gonna respond well to me having a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend.” Melissa tells her and Barb nods. “Alright food is ready. Do you guys mind helping me bring it out?” Melissa asks and you both nod and help her.

All 3 of you bring food out and everyone gathers around the table and takes a seat. They all begin to start putting food on their plates and you take a seat beside Melissa and Barb sits down on the other side of you for support.

“So Melissa, where is this man you were hinting at?” Teresa asks her and Melissa sighs.

“We haven’t been going out long enough to introduce them to my family.” Is all Melissa says to try and close the topic.

“What happened with that Gary?” Kristen Marie asks.

“He proposed and I said no, then we broke up.” Melissa tells her.

“Why’d you say no? You need a man to be with.” Teresa says and you look down at your plate. You then feel Barb grab your hand and you look at her and give her a grateful smile. Melissa sees the interaction between you and Barb and she sighs.

“I just didn’t want to marry him, can that be the end of the discussion?” Melissa tries to shut it down again.

“I’m just saying that you can’t be picky and we all liked him.” Teresa says and Melissa sees that you're hurt by this discussion and it breaks her heart seeing you hurt.

“What if she lied about finding a man?” Kristen Marie says to her mom and Teresa looks at Melissa.

“Did you or did you not find someone?” Teresa asks.

“I did find someone, I’m not lying about that.” Melissa says, annoyed at her family.

“I can’t believe you let Joe go. He was good, he was good for you and he was a firefighter.” Teresa says.

“I almost forgot about Joe.” Seamus says and Melissa puts her head in her hands. “Why did you divorce again?”

“Because we fell out of love.” She simply says. “But we’re still friends.” She adds and they all give her a confused look.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you need a man in your life, and I want to meet the man that you found.” Teresa tells her daughter and Melissa looks at her mom.

“What if it’s not a man?” She suddenly says and you look at her.

“Well what else would it be?” Teresa says and Kristen Marie looks between you and Melissa. She sees the both of you keep looking at each other as well as you being hurt by the conversation.

“What if it’s a woman?” Melissa asks her mom and everyone looks at each other in disbelief before looking at Teresa or Melissa.

“You can’t be with a woman.” Teresa simply says.

“Why not?” Melissa challenges her mom.

“Because you’re not interested in other women, you’ve only been with men and everyone in this family is straight.” Teresa explains. “Now stop saying foolish things honey.” She adds and Melissa sees your eyes are starting to water.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” You tell everyone and stand up.

“Wait Y/n.” Melissa says and stands up as you look at her. “I did find someone, and she’s right here.” She tells everyone and then wraps an arm around your waist. “Y/n is my girlfriend.” She confirms and everyone gasps and looks shocked except for her friends. “We’ve been together for 9 months and we love each other.” She adds and you look at everyone’s reactions.

“You can’t be serious?” Teresa says and you look down and Melissa sees your reaction.

“I think she is serious.” Kristen Marie says. “They’ve been glancing at each other the entire time and Y/n has been looking hurt about this conversation.” Kristen Marie adds.

“Thanks sis.” Melissa says and rolls her eyes. “It’s true, I’m not going to pretend that I’m with a man when it’s hurting my girlfriend just to please my family.” Melissa says proudly and you look at her. She smiles at you and gives you a quick kiss and then looks at her mom. “So all of youse can either accept it or leave.” She adds and you lay your head on her shoulder and wrap your arms around her.

“You know this food is really good.” Seamus says and everyone looks at him.

“I agree, I’m surprised she pulled this off. I guess I didn’t need to defrost the frutti di mare I had at home as a backup dinner for me and Dom.” Kristen Marie says.

“You know if this were a little less brochante.” Teresa starts but Anthony interrupts her.

“Ya, a little mushy.” He says but Teresa continues.

“Yeah, this could have almost passed the nonna Zoltini.” She says and you see Melissa practically beaming at the compliment. “No single woman can make food this good so I guess being with Y/n helped her make good food.” Teresa tells everyone and everyone thinks about it.

“I like Y/n, I met her 2 years ago at Pecsa.” Kristen Marie says and nods. “Melissa wasn’t keeping an eye on her though as I talked with her for a good hour.” She adds and Melissa looks at her sister then at you.

“You did what?” Melissa asks, a little angry.

“We just started being friends, plus I had no idea who she was.” You tell Melissa and you feel her hold tighten on you.

“I think we need an updated photo of me punching you in the face.” Melissa says.

“I’m saying I like your girlfriend.” Kristen Marie says. “I don’t know what she sees in you though.” She adds and you hold Melissa back as she wanted to start some violence with her sister.

“I like your girlfriend as well, a little shy. But I do love you Melissa, and if Y/n makes you happy and gets you to make good food, then I’ll accept the relationship.” Teresa tells her and Melissa smiles and nods at her mom.

“Thank you, I’ll go get the dessert.” She says and brings you into the kitchen with her. “Oh my god, that went really well. Not only did they love my cooking, they’re accepting of us being together.” She says and kisses you. Barb comes into the kitchen and you both pull apart.

“Sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to see how you’re both feeling.” Barb says with a smile.

“I’m very happy, my family is accepting my cooking and my girlfriend.” Melissa says with a huge smile.

“I still can’t believe you went right out and said that we’re together.” You tell her and she shrugs.

“All their comments were hurting you, I couldn’t just do nothing.” She says and you plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, I know I picked the right woman to love.” You say and she smiles before she gets the cannoli ready.

“Alright you stronzos, here’s the famous Schemmenti cannoli.” Melissa says as she comes out with the cannolis and everyone takes one.

Everyone eats all the cannolis and then digest for a bit before they start heading off.

“You got yourself a looker.” Kristen Marie tells her sister. “I don’t know how you managed to score that but apparently you did.” She says and Melissa smiles and wraps an arm around you.

“Yep, I got the girl of my dreams.” Melissa says and you smile at her.

“Goodbye.” Kristen Marie says and then leaves.

Melissa closes the door after Barb and Gerald leave and then lets out a breath. She takes a few steps and gives you a long hug and you feel all the tension she’s been holding for 2 weeks just leave her.

“I don’t know about you but I think that was a huge success.” Caleb says and Melissa pulls back and nods.

“One of the best nights ever.” She says while looking at you and you smile. “I think we should turn in a little early, what do you think?” She asks you and you nod while you both go upstairs.

“I know that look and tone. I hope you brought earphones Caleb, cause you’re gonna need them with our thin walls.” Jacob tells his brother and then Caleb looks at you both going up the stairs.

“Yep, neither of us are quiet.” You say and Melissa giggles.

“Come on you goof.” She says and then pulls you to the bedroom.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[violetsrxse]

Meet Cute of a Lifetime | Vi x Reader

Summary - When sleeping in leads to you visiting your regular coffee shop later than usual and forgetting your wallet at home, your day proves to be more interesting than expected when a generous stranger offers to pay for your coffee.

Word Count - 1,040

CW - Just fluff, no use of Y/N, fem!reader, Vi is taller and she's a sweetheart as per usual, Modern AU, coffee shop meet cute

A/N - This fic is set roughly 3 years before my 'Just Tell Me When' fic but it's not necessary to read them in order or together at this point!

A/N #2 - I hope everyone enjoys this! Also never feel shy to send me asks with different concepts for this AU or any other you can think of, I'd love to hear them!

Modern Chef!Vi Masterlist

-

The first thing you hear when shaking off the haze of sleep is a soft but consistent knocking on your door accompanied by the voice of your mother telling you to wake up. Glancing over at the clock on your nightstand causes you to shoot out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor in your haste.

You’ve somehow managed to sleep through all of your alarms. Most likely because of how late you'd been up the night before studying for the upcoming end of term exam.

Truth be told, college had been beating your ass lately. You suppose this is just one of the effects.

"I'm up!" You call to your mother, cursing under your breath as you rub your eyes in an attempt to shake off your sleepiness. Opening your closet, you quickly settle for a fuzzy blue sweater, some lined leggings for warmth and an easy hairstyle that keeps it out of the way.

You hardly have the chance to say good morning to your parents before you’re rushing out the door into the cold, dry December air, shoving your headset over your ears and beginning a swift walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away.

Shaking off the chill, you admire the Christmas decorations on the houses on your way, the blown up Santa Claus in your neighbors yard, the Christmas lights, beautiful even unlit, and finally the wreaths adorning nearly every door.

You only stop once to pet the fluffy brown cat with a white nose and paws that you see nearly everyday. She doesn’t have a collar, nor have you seen her going in or out of any of the houses on your street. So you’re pretty sure she’s a stray, but you haven’t managed to convince your parents to let you take her home no matter how much you beg and plead.

As you reluctantly part from your fluffy friend, you shiver at the biting cold and can't help but worry that she's also feeling the effects of the weather. But you push forward, nearing a street lined with a variety of different shops and of course, your favorite coffee shop.

It's not five minutes later when you come up to the entrance of the coffee shop, groaning at the long line you can see from the outside of the window. ��

Shaking your head in annoyance and pulling the door open, you're hit with a comforting wave of warmth that melts some of your frustration away. As you glance around, you figure if you're already late you might as well just wait and get your morning coffee.

Who needs art history class anyway?

A slow ten minutes later when you finally reach the counter, you order your usual drink and reach for your wallet only to find your pockets empty.

Cursing softly, you're about to tell the barista to just cancel your order and go to class without your caffeine fix when you hear a voice from behind you.

"I've got it."

Whipping around, you lock eyes with what's got to be the most attractive woman you've ever seen. She smiles kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Are you sure? You really don't have to." Against your own judgement, you begin taking in her features, eyes darting around her face. Her powder blue eyes, plump heart-shaped lips, the scars on her lip and eyebrow and finally, her roman numeral tattoo.

Your cheeks heat when she catches you staring.

"I don't mind," Her smile softens and she's already getting her wallet out, zipping it open and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "This should cover it." You watch as she passes the bill to the barista.

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it." You sigh heavily, beginning to ramble as she orders her own drink, a classic hot chocolate. "Can't believe I forgot my damn wallet- I was in such a rush to get here I must've left it on my nightstand- but I guess things like that happen when you sleep in. I really appreciate the generosity though! Thank you..." You mentally kick yourself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm totally talking your ear off."

"No, no. It's alright, seriously." She stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets. "And you're welcome, you looked a bit stressed when you came in and I thought maybe I could cheer you up."

The barista calls your name and you eagerly take the cup in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You pop open the lid, inhaling the scent.

"You watched me come in?" Your cheeks heat once more and you reach to unzip your coat a bit.

You hadn't noticed her, but you wish you would've.

"I did... shit, I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable-" The woman's cheeks flush a color similar to her hair and sways on the balls of her feet, boots clunking softly on the tile flooring. "I just thought- think you're really pretty."

"Really?" You blink in surprise, 'cause there's no way this is happening to you right now. "Thank you, and likewise!" You reply awkwardly, kicking yourself again, you're totally blowing this.

The woman chuckles. "Thanks, I'm Vi by the way."

You tell her your name and she nods with a soft smile, taking her coffee from the barista with a soft 'thank you'.

As the both of you step away from the counter, Vi asks: "Would you like to join me? I usually like to hangout here for a bit while I drink my hot cocoa."

You almost shed a tear, because you can't.

"I'd really love to, but I'm actually super late for my first class." You say apologetically. "But, I would definitely be down to another time? Maybe this weekend?" The words are hopeful and they make Vi smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that too." She pulls out her phone. "Wanna exchange numbers?"

You nod enthusiastically, taking the phone and handing her yours simultaneously. Quickly entering your number into her phone, you hand it back.

"Was nice to meet you, Vi."

"You too, pretty girl."

You leave the shop with a wide smile on your face, no longer worried about being late for class. Perhaps sleeping in was a good thing.

You really, really hope so.

-

No one can convince me that Vi would like coffee, maybe tea though? But she's definitely a big fan of hot chocolate.

[thanakite]

I wonder if part of the reason Silco struggled to discipline Jinx when she did things that fucked with his plans or whatever was because he spent so much of their time together and because a decent amount of their relationship was encouraging her to follow her worst instincts?

Like yes, he's pissed at her when she kills the Enforcers at Progress Day, but he isn't so pissed that he actually does anything to punish her, and when she shows him that she got the Hextech Gemstone, he pretty much loses all his anger

And when she messes up with the Firelights and it results in the loss of a bunch of Shimmer, he kind of punishes her by not sending her out to do more and by having Sevika clean things up, but is it really THAT MUCH of a punishment to be like "Go work on your inventions" instead? Because while she worries about how he sees her and her usefulness after that, it's not like it actually does anything to actually curb the behavior considering she like nearly immediately goes out and kills the Enforcers at Progress Day immediately afterwards

Stemming from this, I wonder if that's ACTUALLY why Jinx has more or less changed so much from season 1 to season 2?

I've seen some posts where people are complaining that Jinx is less erratic and destructive in season 2 that makes it clear that they feel she was sanitized to be more palatable as a character in season 2 and that the general reasoning that being around Isha and taking care of her is what did it is weak, but really I do wonder if the change is actually because Silco isn't constantly telling her to give into her more destructive tendencies and such?

Until the scene in the bunker prison cell, they make it relatively clear that Jinx is not hearing/seeing Silco as one of the voices that speak to her (in fact a lot of those seem to be gone, which COULD be because they were trying to make her character more palatable, or it could be because she was starting to move on from the traumas that were causing them to manifest so vividly, especially with Silco's own death since he did play such a role in Vander, Claggor, Mylo, and Vi even appearing in them (her parents too as we learn, but I don't think she ever found out about that)), so she isn't hallucinating seeing/hearing him doing that and thus her worst impulses aren't being externally encouraged in that manner anymore, added on to the fact that the person (who she did come to care for and love as a father figure to be clear, but people are complex and can have VERY complex feelings about people in their lives) who instigated one of the worst traumas she experienced was dead (because Vander wouldn't have been taken if not for Silco and then Claggor and Mylo wouldn't have been there with Vi and she wouldn't have felt the need to set off her Monkey Bomb and thus likely none of them would have died)

Then, add on to the lack of Silco's influence that she wasn't trying to deal with getting caught by Enforcers and that she ended up essentially taking in Isha (who stuck around her pretty much all the time and COULD have been helping to curb some of the influence of her hallucinations and more negative thoughts) it seems like a more likely change to have occurred, AND could even be a factor as to why it wasn't until after Isha's death that she finally saw Silco as one of her hallucinations (And that it's interesting that he wasn't advocating for some kind of violence like he seemed to do in life, but instead was talking about how to break the cycle of violence which doesn't seem like a Silco sentiment as much as a Vander sentiment)

Anyway, this is a very long way to wonder if the majority of the changes we see in Jinx in season 2 weren't more related to the lack of Silco's influence in Jinx's life and not because of Isha as directly as people tend to assume OR the idea that they were trying to make her a more palatable character (Which to be clear, I do think that was a PIECE of it, but I'm not sure how big of a piece it actually was, as it's my understanding that she's pretty erratic and destructive and such in League of Legends as a whole and that she's still a fairly popular character so that seems like an illogical change to make for that reason when you have that information, beyond like more minor adjustments here and there, but maybe that's just me? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Oh and again, as I've said elsewhere, I DO think Silco loved Jinx in his own way, but that doesn't negate that he wasn't necessarily a good influence on her, especially considering his actions as a whole and not just towards Jinx, resulted in A LOT of negative things for A LOT of people (people that he was supposedly fighting to free and do good for I mean, I don't really care honestly how he harmed Piltover so much, I more care about the direct harm he did to Zaun and the people there)

[lady-pug]

The Ballad of Green Snakes and Honey Badgers

Chapter I - Wherever We Go, A Hundred Eyes Follow

Summary: Aemond seeks you out so you can go on your first study "date" together, but you have yet to speak to Oscar about what happened the previous night and the agreement you made. But as things go better than expected, you might just end up attracting more attention than you'd prefer

Pairing: Slytherin!Aemond Targaryen x Hufflepuff!Tully!Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: Oof, okay here we are, finally! I wanted to get this done sooner but got caught up in a lot of stuff and ended up writing quite slowly, BUT I did manage to get it out before the year ended so that is that.

I’m quite excited for this story, and have quite a bunch of ideas for where I’m going with this. The only thing I think is worth adding in terms of additional context for this chapter is that I decided to keep the fact that the Targaryens are dragonlords and can ride dragons. But because of that I cannot add any dragons to the Tournament Tasks, as it would be seen as unfair and possibly count as an advantage to Aemond.

Anyway, as always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I’ll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, happy holidays, and I’ll see you all next year! Enjoy!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

You were fucked. There was no sugarcoating it. You were absolutely fucked.

After Aemond had left the library, leaving you behind to pick your jaw off the floor, you headed straight to the Hufflepuff common room. You were determined to tell Oscar everything that had happened down to a T, but you took one look at him, staring at you with that sweet and hopeful gaze and immediately chickened out, opting to quickly retreat to the girls dorm where he couldn’t reach you.

And now as you headed for breakfast you knew you should have told him. You had agreed to breakfast with Aemond, which meant he would come find you and Oscar would find out you had agreed to Aemond’s stupid plan when you had promised him you wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be easier to search for Aemond directly at the Slytherin table, that way you could stave off the inevitable conversation you would need to have with your brother. 

But he was nowhere to be found. Not at the Slytherin table, nor those of the other houses. Not even near the professor’s table where he would sometimes walk up to in order to strike up conversation with one professor or another (what they talked about was beyond you, no matter how curious it made you). He was absolutely nowhere to be seen, throwing a wrench in your plans to intercept him before he could find you.

Resigned, you walked slowly to the Gryffindor table where Davos and your brothers were already seated. Considering that both Cregan and Alysanne were also seated at their house’s table, quite a few seats down from the three boys, you suspected Kermit and Davos had chosen to seat there for your sake, to simultaneously keep the couple out of your sight and avoid a situation like the night before but also not to force you to stay within close proximity of them. You were thankful really, while Cregan was not the first thing on your mind at the moment it still stung to see them being happy together.

“Hey!” Kermit greeted you, his mouth full of sausage “How are you on this fine morning?”

You knew he was trying to divert your attention from some people, and while it wasn’t entirely working, you were grateful for his attempt, for him. For all of them.

“Eh,” you shrugged trying to appear nonchalant while taking a seat across from him and Kermit “could be better.”

Oscar waited until you were comfortable next to him and had already filled up your plate before leaning ever closer to you.

“So, how was it?” he spoke, his voice low.

“How was what?”

Oscar scoffed, a deadpan stare thrown your way.

“You know, the whole thing with Targaryen?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, fear gripping at it as you pondered your answer. Oscar was going to be so disappointed when he found out. God, you didn’t want to lose the respect of one of the few people who you had left. You sighed, deciding it was better to tell him now than let him figure it out on his own later.

“Uhm, actually-” you started, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

“Lads,” Aemond’s voice cut you off, your name rolling smoothly off his tongue before pointing to the spot on the bench next to you “is this seat taken?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer, already sliding in next to you way closer than necessary as the boys stared at him flabbergasted, their jaws dropping. Oscar was the only one who got over his surprise quickly, his eyes narrowing in your direction in a way you could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

“Targaryen.” Kermit greeted coldly “You seem a bit lost, the snakes’ table is over there.” 

“Tully,” Aemond answered in kind, although his tone carried less venom in comparison “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“And what could you possibly want here?” Davos chimed in.

Through their whole exchange you couldn’t properly focus, the feeling of Aemond sitting way too close to you pulling your attention away from the conversation at hand. His leg was flush with yours on the bench, the entire length of his thigh pressed against yours and his shoulder bumping into your own pulling your whole focus towards him.

“We are heading to Professor Orwyle’s class then we are going to study together.” your attention was pulled back into focus as Aemond said your name.

“You two? Study together?” Oscar was still more skeptical than Kermit and Davos.

“Yes,” the Slytheirn boy shrugged, nonchalantly, and for a moment you feared he was going to reveal your whole ruse but he surprised you even further “I promised to help her with her History of Magic studies and, in turn, she’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the Tournament.” 

Oscar seemed unconvinced but let it slide in favor of eating his breakfast in peace, but one glare from him in your direction let you know that you had a lot of explaining to do later on. Your twin and your cousin seemed to get distracted by the mention of the Triwizard Tournament, starting to animatedly argue about past editions (or, in Kermit’s case, sulk, as he had applied for the Tournament and eventually lost the role of Hogwarts’ champion to Aemond, something he was still somewhat resentful about).

You tried going back to your breakfast, hell bent on not attracting any more attention back to yourself and your current incredibly awkward situation, but that quickly went out the window when Aemond leaned even closer to you, his breath fanning your ear.

“It seems Stark and his new girl are staring.” he whispered, and you could tell from his voice alone that his lips were turned up in a smirk.

And true to his word, both Cregan and Alysanne were staring at your little group, more specifically you and Aemond. Alysanne seemed a little weirded out by the whole exchange, but ultimately shrugged, going back to her cuppa. Cregan on the other hand looked positively bothered by the sight, his eyes narrowing even further as Aemond cheekily bumped his shoulder against yours, as if he had simply whispered a funny joke to you.

As much as you loathed to admit, and even though it went completely against what you had told Aemond last night, a bittersweet satisfaction started growing in your chest at the reaction you elicited from your ex-boyfriend. While you didn’t wish to make him jealous, you truly wanted nothing to do with the guy anymore, you didn’t mind shoving in his face that you had already moved on from him, that his actions didn’t bother you at all (even though in reality they did). 

“I would say our little… plan is already working, don’t you agree?” Aemond continued whispering, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You hummed in agreement, finishing the rest of your breakfast in silence. You’d occasionally see Oscar glancing at you quizzically from the corner of your eye but he didn’t say anything else. You felt awful hiding things from him, but what could you do? Come clean to your brothers and cousin and just hope the rest of the Gryffindor table simply didn’t hear a thing? No, the less people knew your little stunt with Aemond was a ruse the better. You’d tell him later that night.

After you were both done eating, Aemond pulled you up and out of the Great Hall, regardless if your brother Kermit, who was usually your partner for Potions class, wasn’t finished yet.   

“I’m sure he can partner up with Bracken for today’s class, can’t you Tully?” he asked, knowing full well your brother truly disliked Aeron on behalf of Davos.

You felt eyes on you all the way down to the dungeons; people from every house were staring at the two of you, the way Aemond’s palm rested on you just shy of the small of your back, pushing, no, guiding you forward. If this was an indicative of a pattern that would remain present the rest of your time together, you just knew it was going to be a long day.

It was, indeed, a long day. 

During Professor Orwyle’s class the hairs on the back of your neck refused to go back to their usual position, a prickling sensation on the back of your mind telling you everyone was staring at you. And it wasn’t just your self-consciousness making things up in your head: more than once you caught another student glancing your way, quickly averting their gaze once they realized they’d been caught. The only one who was brave enough to keep on staring even after being noticed was Maris Baratheon, and by the glint in her eye you simply knew it couldn’t mean anything good. 

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that being in the spotlight brought you. And Aemond? He didn’t seem to give a flying fuck.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, completely unbothered as he led you through the hallways towards the library. The walk had been made even longer than usual for he had to take a detour to grab something from the Slytherin common room, giving other students ample opportunity to continue their scrutiny.

“Everyone is looking at us.” you spoke, voice lowered to try not to attract more attention to yourself.

“No, they aren’t.” he said, walking between rows of bookshelves and collecting an assortment of different books.

“Yes, they are!” you said in an exasperated whisper, trying to keep your voice down in order to not attract any attention from Professor Strong, the librarian (though rumor has it his true ambition was taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts class over his brother).

“Then just don’t mind them.” he shrugged, turning around towards you and placing the ever growing pile of books on your arms with a sigh “Look, let them stare. The more people see us together, the more believable it becomes. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

No, that’s what you wanted! you thought, but given your feelings towards Cregan’s reaction this morning you knew he was right.

“Now stop worrying and go find us a table, I’ll be there in a second.” he was off before you could question him further, leaving you to carry the books to the nearest table.

Aemond returned quickly enough, carrying yet another book with him. This one though was unlike any you had ever seen before, its hardcover weathered, either from old age or from excessive use you couldn’t tell.

“What is that?” you nodded towards his hands.

He placed the tome on the table as he sat down in front of you, staring at you quizzically.

“A book?” 

“I’m not stupid, dragonbrain, I know it’s a book!” you snapped at him, offended “I just meant which book.”

He hummed, amused at your snippiness, and pushed the book towards you.

‘Secrets Of The Dark Arts And How To Spot Them, by Archmaester Gyldayn.’ the cover read, and something dawned on you.

“This is from the Restricted Section.” you stated, to which he hummed in agreement, not bothering with a verbal response “How did you even get this?”

Aemond stared at you then, really stared at you, his one good eye settling on your face with such an intensity you had to look away. Something in the way he looked at you intimidated you now, whereas in the past, before, you felt safe under his gaze. Seen.

“I asked Mister Strong to open the Restricted Section for me.” he said casually, breaking his intense stare to flip over the pages of one of the other books he had selected.

“And he did? Just like that?”

His lips curled in the tiniest of smirks, but something about it felt… wrong. Bitter almost.

“The perks of dating his much younger step-sister I guess.” 

Ah. 

That made sense. You always suspected Alys Rivers was related to Professors Harwin and Larys Strong, but could never make the connection. 

“Okay,” he stopped flipping the book, seemingly having found the page he was looking for. You weren’t going to probe any further, but if you had any intentions to, this was his way of signaling the previous conversation was over “We’ll start from the beginning.”

Glancing at the open book he turned towards you, you caught a glimpse of a familiar painting, three white-haired siblings atop their dragons with their wands raised.

“The Conquest?” you questioned, pulling the book from his hands “That’s First Year material.” 

“I know, but it’ll be easier to catch up on the more recent content if you have a stronger base.” he explained, and although all he was saying made sense, it still vexed you somewhat.

“But I already know all of this!” you whined, immediately regretting it, for it made you feel childish. Once upon a time you had been sure he wouldn’t judge you for such a thing, but now? You barely knew him anymore.

“I know for a fact you doze off in almost all of Professor Mello’s classes.” he replied, smugly. 

Something weird, a feeling you couldn’t quite place, stirred in your chest at the thought of him noticing you in class, but you quickly brushed it off.

“I didn’t pick this up from Mello’s class.” you countered, and his face fell for a moment.

Your summers leading up to your First Year were more often than not spent in the Targaryen’s household. At the time you were quite close with two of the white-haired siblings, Aegon considering himself too old for your childish antics and Daeron too young to join in yet. At the time you’d even go as far as to call Aemond your best friend, before Helaena inevitably took the title after… everything. Back then, he’d spend his days showing you paintings and illustrations of his ancestors, of Aegon I and his sister-wifes arriving from Old Valyria and founding Westeros as it was known today. Although the Targaryen family lost a lot of their former glory (even though they remained quite influential still), it was clear Aemond was proud of his roots, a glint in his eye whenever he mentioned most people from his bloodline.

He grew silent, as he couldn’t deny what you were saying. You wondered if you were wrong to bring this up, for you felt incredibly unprepared to open this specific can of worms right now, but it seemed the feeling was mutual, as he grabbed the book from your hands and propped it up on the table, the pages facing him so you wouldn’t peek.

“Alright then. If you say you already know all of this,” he smirked once more, and you started rethinking your choices leading up to this moment “how about a pop quiz?”

It wasn’t as bad as you were expecting. You managed to get through the whole of The Conquest without fumbling, all the way to when Aegon defeated the dark wizard Harren the Black in his castle, Harrenhal (which some believe was demolished, and Hogwarts was built on top of its ruins). After that point, though, the details started getting a little confusing, your mind jumbling dates and locations into an incomprehensible mess inside your head. Aemond then promised to help you study from then on out, little by little, three times a week.

“We have till the end of the year to turn you into a History of Magic expert,” he had said.

“Till Christmas, you mean.” you pointed out, remembering your previous agreement, to which he shrugged, humming a ‘whatever you say’ under his breath.

You started collecting your things, but paused when he didn’t follow suit, only picking up another book from the pile. Herbology.

“That’s certainly… an interesting selection.” you commented, only now noticing the different subjects all the books covered.

“I have some research to do.” he said, not taking his eyes off the page.

Something he had said earlier came to the front of your mind.

“She’ll help me brainstorm ideas for the first task of the tournament.” 

“Is it about the first task?” you questioned, genuinely curious.

He hummed in agreement.

“Do you have any idea what it will be about?”

He shook his head with a sigh, finally looking up at you.

“I do have a hunch, but it’s fickle. A hypothesis really.”

“Do you need any help ‘brainstorming ideas’?” you quoted him.

He chuckled, amused. 

“Next time perhaps. You did well today, you deserve your rest.” your cheeks felt warm under the praise, and you had to look away from him for a moment “But I will be taking you up on that offer. If I remember correctly, you used to be quite good at solving puzzles.”

It was strange, really, how much he still knew about you even after so long without speaking to one another. You’d have to get used to it again.

After saying your goodbyes you headed back to the Hufflepuff common room, a light feeling in your chest. The ‘study date’ had gone well, not at all as bad as you had predicted it would be, unashamed stares from other students aside. But then a cold, bitter guilt replaced that nice feeling, damping your mood slightly.

You had to tell Oscar. He deserved to know.

Feeling determined, then, you entered the common room, resolute in looking for your brother. But, (un)fortunately, you didn’t have to look very far, for you found him sitting in one of the couches facing the entrance of the common room, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“How was your study date with Aemond Targareyn?” he questioned, his voice hard.

Panicking, you gripped his upper arm, not minding his yelps of pain as you pulled him to a distant corner, away from the other students.

“It wasn’t a date.” you hissed.

“No?” his voice held a hint of sarcasm “Because Kermit said you two were awfully close in class-” 

“It wasn’t a real study date.” you interrupted him, keeping your voice down and mentioning for him to do the same.

“How so?” he still seemed mad, but at least now he was whispering as well “You just pretended to study?”

“No, the studying part was real.” you averted your eyes from him, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment “It was the date part that was fake.”

“Again, how so?”

Time to come clean.

“Yesterday Aemond asked me to…” it sounded stupid now that you said it outloud “pretend we’re going out together. And it will culminate in me being his date to the Yule Ball.”

“What?!” he squeaked, and you shushed him, worried about people overhearing your conversation “So he wants you to be his pretend girlfriend?” 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And you agreed?!” 

“I panicked, alright?!” you already felt stupid enough about your decisions without him scolding you like a child.

“What does he even get out of this?” he asked, exasperated “And what about Alys Rivers?”

“His admirers backing off, I think. And apparently they broke up over summer.” his jaw dropped “I know, surprised me too.”

His face softened a fraction, finally getting over the shock.

“And what’s in it for you?” his tone dripped concern, and you felt your heart clenching with love for your younger brother.

“I-I’m not sure, exactly. To show Cregan I’m no longer hung up on him? To prove to people I’m not pathetic?”

“You are not pathetic.”

“Sometimes feels like I am.” you shrinked into yourself a bit “You know how much it hurt.”

Oh, he knew. He was the one who found you after you had read Cregan’s letter, curled into a ball on your bed, clutching the roll of parchment to your chest as tears steadily ran down your cheeks. 

“I know.” he placed a gentle hand on your arm “But do you think this is a good idea? This is Aemond Targaryen we’re talking about.”

You smiled at his worried face, ruffling his hair.

“I can look after myself, you know.” you grinned at the grimace that covered his face as he tried to fix the mess that you had made of his locks “It wasn’t all that bad today. And besides, it’s only until Christmas.”

He still seemed hesitant, but slowly nodded.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

Your grin softened, pulling him in for a comforting hug.

“I promise.”

He squeezed you back and you knew everything would turn out okay in the end. You just had to endure it until Christmas. 

Right?

Tag List:

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@bey0nd-1he-stars

[scoops404]

Scoops' Fics of 2024

It's that time of year again! The time for me to rank my own fics for the last year in order from my least favorite to most favorite. I only considered fics I wrote entirely myself, so you won't see an honest living in here because that was almost 50/50 written with Dizzy! (but you should definitely go check it out!)

This year I only had two novel length fics because I was supposed to be focusing on original work (oops). I had a heck of a summer with my bingo fills. There's definitely recency bias at play here, but that's just how it goes sometimes. Let me know if you agree/disagree :D

See the Elephant - T - this one was written for a fic fest that ended up getting canceled because of the grituation. I had already written the entire thing and it had to be T because the artists were going to post their work. If I had known it would be canceled, I would have had them doing the freaknasty. This was after I had already planned out and written a fic before new boundaries dropped in November (see Circling Back). Basically, this fic fest was never meant to be, I suppose. I was starting to think I was a curse. Oh, but the fic itself is a soulmate AU and kinda angsty and has a hospital scene. 0 horse mentions.

Merry Men Making Merry - T - This was written for Fairy Tales from the SMP - the first and only successful fanfiction event I've completed all the way through (it's never me dropping out btw, it's always the event getting canceled). Anyway I got my first choice of fairy tale, which was Robin Hood, and I put a fun spin on it. The art with this fic was gorgeous!! A very different type of fic for me and it stretched some writing muscles I didn't know I had. Secret identity and identity reveal, some of my favorite tropes. 4 horse mentions.

Move to Florida, buy the car you want - E - the first of my bingo fics. It turns out I am bad at being brief. Anyway, DNF get together and semi-roadhead and I dunno, it's cute. I wrote most of this fic free hand in my note book at my work desk because fuck capitalism. I just checked, the prompt was "late night care rides" which checks out. 0 horse mentions

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts (croptop) - E - this is the one from the middle of June about crop tops that was also written for bingo. I dunno. It's cute enough. 0 horse mentions.

Everyone understands why it’s mean to be (a/b/o phone call) - T - this one is funny because I didn't even bother saying what the prompt was in the author's notes, but I think it was a/b/o. This one was fun to write because it was basically a nod to the 2021 fandom and where we were, and where DNF were -- waiting on that damn visa. Like going back in time and writing a fic. 1 horse mention.

Can I Use You Up - E - I really had fun writing this one. It has fun Dreateam dynamics and then a really intense sex scene and the dichotomy of both of those things in one fic -- and short (for me), at that! impressive. 0 horse mentions.

Circling Back - E - this fic is fun and wild. I got to write co-workers to lovers that is also hidden/secret identity -- and it works! WILD! I re-read this one recently and it stands up. This was originally written for that first fic fest i was talking about and when they changed it for the new boundaries for art, I couldn't have any smut and the whole plot kind of hinged around the smut, so... I decided to just write it as it is. ALSO this is the first fic that Chelsey beta'd, I think. So that's fun! And it was the first fic of the year (not counting Hits Different which wrapped up in January). 0 horse mentions.

Just to do experiments on - E - Yall, if you had told me that I would write tentacle porn, I would have laughed at you. Extra has been trying to get me to write tentacles for YEARS and then it came up on my bingo card and I felt like I finally had to bite the bullet and do it. Except, I actually really love how it turned out? This bingo prompt was tentacles, obviously, but also cursed by a witch. A twofer, if you will. 0 horse mentions.

Let Me Familiarize You - E - here's some Scoops lore. I wrote this fic in two sitting and it is 13K, so that's wild!!! It took me two days in the time after my surgery but before I could go back to work to write this (in between writing the beginnings of Two Fools and another story that I haven't and won't publish lol). Anyway, it's about witch!George accidentally making Patches his familiar and then coming clean to Dream and also his mom is there. And then literally that same day, George dropped a video with his mom. Crazy pants. (or maybe it was the day before when this was all written? Can't remember. Also I was on pain pills). I really like how it turned out. It's a fun premise! 0 horse mentions.

Puzzle pieces in the dead of night - T - another bingo fic, the prompt was pirates. Anyway, I had a BLAST writing this one. Secret identity, kidnapping, munchy mc dynamics, I really like writing action adventurey fics and this one feel right into that category. A fun read, in my opinion. 0 horse mentions.

I’m Having His Baby (No, I’m Not) - E - a bingo fic, the prompt was "mpreg, but abortion" because the person who made the boards *ahem* doesn't like pregnancy stuff and wanted to punish me (lightheartedly lol). Anyway, joke is on her, because I made this into an epic story and I had so much fun writing it. Like, laughing out loud to myself while writing it, which is kinda sad, but is also the point of fanfiction. You have to entertain yourself first and foremost. And also I snuck eventual mpreg in there anyway so haha! for real, though, if you think the premise of this one is weird -- Dream and George accompany Sapnap on a roadtrip to Colorado to get his abortion -- you should try it out anyway. 1 horse mention, and arguably the one that brought it to our good anon's attention.

Anagnorisis - E - speaking of mpreg, LMAOOOOOO. My "I didn't know I was pregnant" AU with Angst and miscommunication and domesticity and last minute flights to London and a baby named after the lead singer of Glass Animals. This fic has a lot! I wrote a lot about the beginning of this fic on Tumblr and kind of how I begin writing fics. Here Anyway, pretty proud of this fic. I had to ask my mom a lot of questions about NICU. 3 horse mentions.

I Am Two Fools - E - every year the last novel length fic of the year seems to be in the top spot. No Exception this year. This fic was very tough to write, but very rewarding. I think it taught me a lot about making sure character motivations are fleshed out and make sense. It, and Anagnorisis, taught me about trusting the reader and dropping hints at things. Yall got So Good at catching hints and making molehills out of anthills, as intended. I took a chance and switched up POV halfway through, which is almost never do. And I think that really helped me stretch my writing muscles as well as all the bingo fics. Very proud of the work I did on this fic. 0 horse mentions.

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Tags: teenchesters, underage, wound licking kink Words: 804

"Sammy?" Dean says, releasing his hand finally.

Sam's used to his name meaning a million and one things coming from Dean's mouth.

Sammy, you ok? I've got you Sammy. Sammy. My little brother.

His head is spinning too far to be able to tell what Dean's asking him, but he nods anyways, fearing what will come out of his mouth if he tries to speak, and relying on Dean to keep directing him forward. He'd follow Dean anywhere. Even if anywhere means he's here pressed against a counter with his brother's spit still cooling on his dropped hand.

Maybe honestly especially here.

Dean, taking Sam's nod to mean an answer to his question, brushes his knee forward tentatively. Sam's hips jut forward instinctively at the contact before he can stop them, and he knows his brother can tell he's fully hard.

He eyes Dean nervously, checking his expression for any traces of disgust, but he just sees his brother's eyes as wide and nervous as his before he manages to shutter it away behind his familiar smirk.

"It's ok Sammy, I've got you" he says, pressing forward harder this time.

A moan makes it's way halfway out of Sam's mouth before he clamps it shut in horror and presses his face forward into Dean's shoulder to hide. Dean chuckles at that with his confident older brother laugh, the one he lets out whenever he finds something to tease Sam endlessly over. He raises his knee just right for Sam to rut against and presses his lips just against Sam's ear causing him to shiver.

"Got you little brother," he says lowering his leg just a little before pressing upwards once more. "Come on Sammy."

Sam can hear the dare and the never gonna let anything happen to you all rolled up in one. He bites into Dean's shirt so that no more sounds escape, little brother brattiness unwilling to let Dean win it all even if he's already given in.

Dean keeps his leg steady as Sam ruts forward finally, his rhythm set by Dean's hand on his hip. He drags his lips down Sam's neck. Not quite kissing, just pressing, as Sam finally gets the pace right. Just as he gets down to the junction of where his collarbone is he nips hard enough it'll draw a mark later, causing Sam's rhythm to falter and drop Dean's shirt from his teeth.

Speeding up his pace he can feel himself getting closer to the edge and he lets out the barest whine as he stays just on this side of coming.

Sam feels Dean smirk against his skin and he considers scowling for half a second before abandoning the prospect, devoting all his attention back to pressing into his brother over and over. Dean licks across the spot he'd nipped in punishment as if he can read Sam's mind anyways.

He probably can. After all Sam's not even sure how they got to this point or what Dean read in him that let him think Sam wanted this when Sam didn't even know he did.

"Come on, give it up," he says pressing kisses up Sam's neck before pulling back forcing Sam to look at him.

"Like having your big brother take care of you? Like me stitching you up Sam?"

Sam huffs out a whine as Dean pulls him forward faster, his words making him feel overheated and tight in his skin.

"Want me to put you together the same way every time Sam? Come on Sammy, let me take care of you, I got you Sammy."

His hips jut forward off rhythm twice more before he can feel himself spilling into his jeans. Lost in his head he resurfaces to the feel of Dean's hands stroking over his hair and the tang of metal on his tongue.

Opening his mouth he releases Dean from where he'd apparently bit him on the neck, leaving only indents more than anything, but a small couple of drops bead up and start to fall where he'd broken the skin. Unable to look away Sam readily follows the compulsion to lean forward and taste them.

It tastes like, blood. Nothing special to it, but the thought of Dean consuming his earlier and him now doing the same makes him flush hot.

He hears Dean chuckle and finally looks back up at his brother who stopped stroking his hair at some point.

"You know at this point I'm starting to think Dad might've been wrong about vampires being extinct."

Scowling Sam shifts to push Dean back and remind him that he hasn't been funny since Sam was in middle school, but stops when Dean hisses.

In confusion Sam looks down and sees Dean's jeans, the front raised with as much give as the denim allows.

Dean is hard.

Dean is hard.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | x

[gabessquishytum]

Hullo! I just saw a video today from Dancing with the Stars about mango or two men dancing the tango and immediately thought Yesss Dreamling! I was rambling about it with friends and thought of sharing some ideas here too. @yamru who's from Argentina, also let me know that tango was originally danced by male partners!

This clip particularly reminded me of two alphas from extremely wealthy but rival families, who think they can't be together because societal norms say they have to be with an omega to continue the family line. In fact, initially they hate each other! But after a lot of meet ugly moments, angst, UST, these two fall head over heels in love with each other. Now this dance happens at a party where they are still in their enemies phase, but insanely attracted to each other, and they are developing feelings as they dance. After the party they cannot stop thinking about each other and how it will feel to be together. They torture themselves about the logistics of it and concerns of how to continue the family line. But eventually when they get together, all rules fly out the window. They also realize that being together is more than just resolving physical tension. Their culture requires them to be macho alphas but what they both truly crave is just being pampered by each other. But because they are idiot alphas, they don't tell each other how they really feel. When one of them, maybe Dream, is forced to marry an omega suitor, say Alex or Calliope, Hob comes to the wedding at the right time to profess his love and that he doesn't care about these social norms. And Dream, who was waiting to hear these lines, flies to Hob's arms! The family and guests are scandalized but Dream and Hob don't mind what others might say anymore. I'm not sure how to resolve the baby business. Maybe lucienne is a doctor who tells them about scientific advancements about how alphas can carry a child. Or use a surrogate. Anyway everyone kinda resigns to the fact Hob and Dream are a couple now. They are both still every bit ruthless alphas but also indulgent softies for each other. When they finally get married, of course they dance the tango again at their wedding!

MANGO. MAN TANGO. I love it.

I really lean towards the idea of Dream and Hob being business rivals - maybe not rivals, necessarily, but they're both big-shot CEOS. Dream has that inherited wealth and Hob is more of a self-made man. They know each other from conferences, galas, and society in general. Both are considered VERY eligible alpha bachelors. And they're kind of frenemies. Who obviously want to fuck.

Hob is always teasing Dream by flirting with him, and it annoys Dream because it really turns him on. So at this party he tries to teach Hob a lesson by being receptive to his flirting, and dancing with him. Turns out, Hob wasn't teasing though - he's totally sincere in his advances and spends much of the dance whispering filthy things in Dream’s ear, until Dream drags him out to a secluded spot and shuts him up. With many, many kisses.

They spend the night together and it's like paradise, but of course it can't last...... Dream swears Hob to secrecy, Hob is kindof offended that Dream would be so ashamed of him. But he also understands. He's an alpha with his own reputation to uphold, too.

(If Dream’s intended omega bride is Calliope, she knows exactly what's going on and spends the entire betrothal trying to subtly encourage Dream to follow his heart. Dream is too stubborn to listen.)

Hob is fortunately brave enough to make a stand and declare his love for Dream. He doesn't want to live without the man he loves, and doesn't see why it matters that they both have knots! Hob wants to build a life with Dream and do cute domestic things like baking and flower arranging, and he also wants to fuck Dream face down on the living room carpet. He wants to merge their companies and be ruthless in board meetings together. Isn't that what life's all about?

Even if they can't legally marry, Dream decides that he'll put a ring on Hob’s finger anyway. He's not letting him go. So, Calliope happily marries someone else, perhaps one of Dream’s siblings. After a few years she offers to be a surrogate for her favourite pair of alphas. And a few years after that, laws are changed and Hob and Dream finally tie the knot (hahaha).

They are very very good tangueros, and have learned to seamlessly swap the lead/follower roles... although other dancers have to beware. There's no telling whether they might actually start fucking on the dancefloor...

[dojunie]

MISDIAL; LJN [CH6] DND

[★]; [MISDIAL MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

info;

lee jeno x fem!reader

college au

chaptered

very slow burn

genre; not-quite-friends to lovers, older brother mark lee, brothers best friend lee jeno, light angst, yn is a menace to society, story/character driven

warnings for this chapter; none

chapter wc: 11k

a/n: i don't even have an excuse. when i tell you i was struggling with this... anyway, to not dwell on the bad, lets talk about the good; i rewrote the ending and finally feel excited about it, so hopefully i dont face another deeply evil and unforgiving block again. thank you for sticking around :)

current tl: @hibernatinghamster / @jenoxygen / @eaglesnotravens / @donutswithjaminthemiddle / @jvjsssnaa / @huangrenhyucks / @luvenshiti / @shiningdery / @jaeminsbebu / @aliceinwhateverland / @bebsky / @gem-gem / @jkjkseo / @jenosbliss / @pewpewpwe00 / @ti–red / @philanarose / @softbbyg0rl / @aaasteroidsky / @carelessshootanonymous / @en-boyz / @jlsavyy / @roseymerrie / @bangchanisemo / @skuezk / @jaehyuns-adorable-dimples / @ourbeautifulaffair / @jeonnyread / @jvjsssnaa / @episkeyjeno / @bockhyun / @jenojammin / @zarastrawberry / @peachie-bear / @itadaramaterasu / @alymii / @cuteejeno / @episkeyjeno / @nohunlee / @ooojisoo / @luv4jeno / @jydivrs / @pinkysinnerbaby / @jenojenoyes / @maeyoung / @axmdocs / @nctzennikki09 / @tynlvr / @saucyjaeyun /

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OF ALL THE THINGS A GUY COULD CATCH YOU FAKING, BEING ASLEEP USUALLY ISN’T THE MOST MORTIFYING.

Usually, you take care to point out.

Because nine times out of ten, getting called out for pretending to be asleep is something to be mulled over with a laugh. Like when you pretend to doze off in the middle of a boring story to make your friends roll their eyes and get to the point, or when you’re young enough for it to still be feasible, in an attempt to get your parents to carry you to bed after a long car ride home. You know. That type of cute, charming thing.

But when there’s nothing cute or charming about the night you’ve just had, Jeno telling you point blank that he knows you’re awake (and has known you were awake the entire time) feels less like a joke that you’re both in on, and more like you’ve just been dropped naked into the middle of Times Square.

“Pizza doesn’t stay hot forever you know.”

Mortification rips through your body like a live current and you jerk around as if someone’s just cocked a shotgun behind your back.

You freeze afterwards, your head only turned enough just enough to peek over your shoulder, like there’s still some speck of a chance that Jeno isn’t actually talking to you— but that speck is swiftly sucked into the vacuum of reality when your eyes meet.

He’s smiling right at you. Eye-crescents and all. Arms folded over his chest, leaning back into the couch cushions like he’s just asked for you to change the channel instead of rouse from a fake nap.

“I was starting to think I’d have to roll you over.”

God forbid.

“How—” Your voice is several octaves too high for the feigned nonchalance you’re trying to push. You swallow. It doesn’t help. “How did you... know?”

“When I used to sleep over at your parents house I’d hear you snoring through the walls when I passed your room. Even through a foot of wood and plaster it still sounded like you were choking to death right out there in the hallway with me; after the pizza guy left I realized it was way, way too quiet in here. Put two and two together.”

On a different day this answer would’ve made your face burn for the next half an hour but considering the other bomb he’s just dropped, it doesn’t even register on the radar.

After the pizza guy left?

“You knew I was awake the entire time you were talking?”

“Of course.”

For five too-many beats, you’re staring at him like he’s just started speaking Simlish.

Your first instinct is to grimace, hard. Because how fucking stupid you must've looked curled up on the couch like that when he’d known from the very beginning that you were awake, stone still and pretending you couldn’t be seen like a toddler hiding behind the window curtains, Jesus— but before the embarrassment of that can really take shape and cringe you into a coma, the actual problem with his confession comes to light.

He… knew. He said all of that knowing that you were listening. High school, the graduation, the day you both met, everything.

He said he liked you back.

“What?” you finally manage. “But— Why? Why would you tell me all of that? Now?”

“Because after what happened on Saturday, I felt like I was being…” For the first time all night, maybe all week, Lee Jeno breaks eye-contact first. “I’m still having trouble figuring out the specifics but ‘unfair', might be the best fit. You told me how you felt and I only stood there and listened even though I knew I could’ve told you that it wasn’t nearly as unrequited as you thought, but I got nervous and then said something dumb and everything fell apart. Even if you still never talked to me again afterwards I needed to explain. To make sure you understood that it wasn’t just you who felt how you did.”

He laughs a little, sheepish, like he’s embarrassed. “I guess I overdid it with the trip through history, though. Just wanted you to know I was looking at you, too.”

You’re staring at him and he’s staring at the ground, neither of you seemingly knowing what to say to fill the following silence, when you see another thought shadow over his face and his gaze find you again.

“And I didn’t want you to think it was because of Mark.”

The mention of your brother snaps you out of your stunned reverie in an instant. "What?"

“I was scared of changing things between both me and you and me and him, back then. He didn’t tell me anything about you. I— That’s something I needed to say no matter what. I didn’t want you to think he’d do something like that.”

Without really meaning to, your eyes narrow.

Because. Well. Despite the words that have literally just left his lips about why you weren’t supposed to blame Mark for Lee Jeno never telling you how he felt while he still felt it, Mark Lee is already not your favorite person right now, and tar-like agitation bubbles to the surface anyway.

“So he might not have said anything to you. Okay. Sure. But because of the way he acted, you were under the impression that you’d lose him as a friend if you did like me. Right? You told me that yourself. You refused to even acknowledge the idea that you might’ve ‘liked me like that’ because it was clear how Mark felt about anyone who showed even the slightest interest in me. You said you ‘knew better.’”

You try to scoff. It comes out a little more like a sad, tired huff instead. “So yeah, actually, I think I will continue to think that Mark is the reason you didn’t say anything, because that’s the truth. He spent years and years and years finding something wrong with every guy who looked in my direction and because you felt like he’d throw you away too, you knew how I felt and did nothing when you felt the same way. No matter how you slice it, that’s what happened. That’s why I’m— That’s why I was so upset on the balcony. You understand that, right? Because if he hadn’t, Jeno, then things might’ve—”

Worked out for us, is what you’d been about to say, before you caught yourself.

Chills blossom up your spine. Wow. If those words aren’t a shrapnel-loaded bomb of obvious longing and regret, a flashing neon-sign clear with your inability to get the hell over the past, then you don’t know what is.

You must still be drunk. Or exhausted.

“He’s your best friend. We’re never going to see it the same way.”

The next words feel so heavy on your tongue, but you manage a smile anyway. “But you can forget about it now, if that’s what’s been keeping you up all week. Everything’s out now, right?”

Everything is clearly not out, if his split-second-too-long beat of silence means anything. But for your own sanity you pretend you don’t notice it. You pretend you can’t feel the tension underneath his perfectly blank expression, you pretend that your own secrets aren’t heating up in your mouth like hot coals, you pretend— like you’ve been doing a lot in his presence lately— that you’re completely fine with everything and anything and all of this especially. You’re fine.

You will be fine.

“Right,” Jeno says. “All out. So we’re… okay?”

“We’re okay.”

“No more avoiding?”

“Avoid—?”

Avoiding. Yeah. The past few hours have been such a clusterfuck that you nearly forgot the last six days of pointedly being anywhere other than where he was, pawning off the ‘coincidence’ on preparing for the showcase.

“I wasn’t… avoiding you. Not totally. Not explicitly. I was busy.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You haven’t looked in my direction once since last weekend. I was starting to think you’d seriously never talk to me again.”

You scowl. “Are you going to sit here and tell me you’re confused about why I might not have wanted to see you so soon after what happened on the balcony? Embarrassment was eating me alive. You should be lucky I stuck to being busy, instead of going with the Plan B of faking my own kidnapping.”

He laughs. Your eyes flicker back to him. The sound is soft and muted but it’s real; his eyes disappearing with it, the first time in what feels like days that the smile has really reached the rest of his face. It’s more reassuring than it has any right to be. When he says his next words, standing up to head for the kitchen, you can even manage a genuine smile in return.

“You didn’t sleep away your appetite, right?”

And of course you didn’t.

Actually, once you’re reminded of the pizza sitting on the coffee table (this time without anxiety subduing the hunger in your stomach) you realize that you’re properly ravenous; the last things you’d consumed today were a chocolate muffin and four cherry-flavored jello shots. And the hunger is clear, probably, in how you’re already halfway through a slice when Jeno returns with a pair of plates and two popped soda cans.

The game show (apparently European in production and definitely weirder than previously assumed) somehow becomes the main entertainment while you both eat; X-Men First Class isn’t brought up again despite it still clearly spinning around in the DVD player.

Things stay quiet.

Not the loaded kind of quiet, or any sort of painfully awkward silence. Just… quiet. Oddly relaxing. Much too comfortable. Once you’re done stuffing yourself, your fingers wiped of tomato sauce remnants and soda long ago finished, the couch pulls you further and further into its pillow-like cushions with every passing minute.

The first thing that either of you say after half an hour is when Jeno asks you for a translation for an English thing a contestant says that the subtitles don't catch, and your response comes after a badly stifled yawn. He, unfortunately, notices this.

“Why are you torturing yourself by staying up to watch this? If you’re tired, go to sleep.”

“M’ not that tired,” is your automatic reply. “And I want to know who wins. Cassandra needs that Prius.”

He sniffs under his breath, quietly, like you’re already asleep and he’s trying not to rouse you. You probably look half gone— you’re staring at the TV through slits, your posture on his couch closer to horizontal than vertical— but you don’t want to admit that you’re running on empty. Maybe it’s residual little-sister-ism, refusal to agree simply because someone else suggested it first, but admitting that you’re spent feels like defeat when he still looks completely conscious.

“This is a rerun.” Jeno clicks something on the remote. “Of a show from 2012. You could just look up what happened to Cassandra.”

“Not the same. I need to see her win live, so she can rub it into Helen’s face. She’s so snooty.”

A beat, and then Jeno hums. “She is snooty, yeah, but the show has another ten minutes left. She’s going to be snooty for another five of those before the finale. Why don’t you brush your teeth in the meantime? Since you’re not tired?”

The lilt of his voice makes you glance at him. It’s familiar. Mark trying to convince you not to eat an entire bag of candy at once, Mark trying to bribe you with a popsicle to get you to do your homework, Mark trying to trick you into accidentally getting ready for bed by challenging you to a race.

Distantly you wonder if this tone, too, is another thing Jeno has subconsciously picked up over the years from watching how your brother interacts with you.

“You don’t need to baby me, you know.”

“Of course I know. Only babies make up reasons to stay up when they’re clearly exhausted. You’re not a baby. Right?”

You can’t even glare. It would give away that he’s completely onto you. And yet, he smiles like he’s already got you in the bag.

“Exactly,” you mutter, “No babies here.”

“So you understand that Cassandra will still be around when you’re done washing up?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Come on.”

And he’s up off the couch before he can even catch your rolled eye. Annoying.

Even more annoying is the fact that he’s right. He didn’t say as much when he’d suggested you brush your teeth sooner rather than later, but you knew it was because he thought you didn’t have much longer in you, that you were going to be too far gone in fifteen minutes to have any energy left to get to your feet and wash up— once you get through opening the new toothbrush he gives you, speeding through scrubbing each of your molars with his absurdly fancy toothpaste (because of course he has Premium Ultra Mega Super White Charcoal Anti-Cavity in Spearmint and Sunshine sitting on his counter instead of a regular man’s Colgate, considering all of the perfect teeth sitting in his mouth)— and as soon as you flop back down onto the couch just in time to watch snooty Helen get her comeuppance, a physical weariness settles into your bones and all but cements you to the couch.

It’s so serious that you don’t even realize your eyes have closed until they fly open again at a shifting of the cushion beside you; Jeno, dropping a giant gray duvet on the couch after returning from the bathroom himself. A duvet. A blanket. Sweet, sweet, sleepy salvation.

“Thanks. This looks perfect.”

“Only one of those is for you.”

“One? There’s more than one here?”

“Yeah.”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m sleeping out here too?”

Holy crap. What? This almost makes you sit all the way up. “What sense does that make, in your own house? Why the hell would you sleep out here when you have a perfectly good bed twenty feet away?”

“Because it’s—” Only now does he seem to realize how odd this looks, “It’s sleepover etiquette.”

“Sleepover etiquette?”

“I don’t know,” he says quickly. “I didn’t make the rules, I’m just used to it happening like this. The only time I sleep in my own bed when someone is over is when Jaemin is here, because he’ll sleep in it even if I don’t, but anyone else, we just divvy it up on the couch. Sleepover etiquette. No one gets the bed, or everyone gets the bed.”

As crazy as it sounds right now, it rings true. At your own sleepovers, anything under five friends and you’d all be piling into the bed of whoever hosted the event: squishing together like giggly sardines, waking up and not knowing where one of you ended and the other one began. But Jeno equating this— your definite last-minute intrusion in his house— to a sleepover? Like this is some every weekend thing?

“As noble of a sacrifice as that is, I can’t ask you to sleep out here. You realize that I’m an interloper, right? That you’re doing me a favor by letting me crash here? Hardly the circumstances of a normal sleepover.”

A long second passes as he appears to genuinely think about this, and for a moment you think he’s going to take your advice and try to get a good night's rest after everything else you’ve demanded of him today, but—

“It’s normal to me. You’re sleeping here tonight. That makes it a sleepover. Which one of these do you want?”

Non-negotiable, he's saying. We’re both sleeping out here, take it or take it, punctuated by him flopping down onto the couch beside the pile of blankets. You want to sigh but you should’ve known. It’s chivalry until the end with Lee Jeno.

So you ignore your brain screaming about how weird this is, you and him out here bunking like buddies, and just take the blanket he hands you. You settle in underneath it, cozier than you’re willing to admit, and refocus your attention on the next thing that’s started on TV after the game show; something just as foreign and bizarre but entertaining enough to keep your attention until the near silence weighs down your eyelids instead.

Mark’s apartment is never this serene. Whether it’s the jet-like humming of the fridge out in the kitchen, or the noisy college students below you and their random but guaranteed twice-a-week smash tournaments, or the rattle of the air conditioner above your bed that you’ve been meaning to look at for nearly a month now.

The quiet is… nice. Weird, but nice. You can hear your own breathing. You can hear Jeno’s breathing too; shallow, slow, and even.

It’s how you know he’s still awake twenty minutes later.

He commented on your snoring but little does he know, he snores too— just not as violently. For the premier of Spider-Man Homecoming coming out on DVD, Mark had a celebratory sleepover in the basement of your parents house that you were cordially invited to (along with two of your own friends,) back in your sophomore year. You all huddled up amongst the couches and recliners with millions of blankets and billions of pillows, everyone just falling asleep wherever they laid; and though you could’ve sworn he’d been halfway across the room when you closed your eyes that night, you’d woken up the next morning with Jeno’s forehead pressed into your shoulder and nearly screamed.

You didn’t, though. You sucked it back down just in time.

Instead, you sat there and ogled him in the still-blue sunlight, reveling in how it was even possible for a human with such sharp bone structure to look so squishy when he slept.

It was also how you noticed that, when he’s asleep, his nose makes this tiny but unmistakable whistling sound— like a tiny person is up there blowing through a kazoo whenever he exhales.

There’s no whistle sound now.

“When did you stop liking me?” you ask.

And to his credit, even though you’re listening very hard for any sort of change, Jeno’s breathing doesn’t miss a measure. There’s just a second of silence before a quiet shift of fabric, maybe like he’s rolling over to face you, but you’re not sure because you’re staring at the ceiling like you might explode if your eyes meet. Which you might.

“I don’t know,” he says, just as plainly as you’d asked. “I don’t remember there being a day where I decided I should.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?” he’s surprisingly quick to add. “When did you stop liking me?”

“...Would it be a cop out if I just said the same?”

“Without a doubt.”

You manage to crack a smile, but a yawn cuts it off. “Sometime after your graduation, I think. I don’t have a concrete day for it or anything. I only remember realizing that while you were gone, I was thinking about you less and less. After a while the idea of you stopped…” Hurting, as much. “Hovering.”

“Right,” he says. “Yeah. That makes sense." He clears his throat. "That you’d forget me a little, I mean. Once you started going out more.”

Another yawn on your end. This time your eyes aren’t as eager to reopen, and the exhale saps the very last ounce of energy you’ve got. What time is it? One? One-thirty?

Majorly past your bedtime.

“I didn’ forget you,” you reply belatedly, but it comes out more like a murmur, a little lost in the noise of you shifting around to get more comfortable. “There’s no forgetting someone like you.”

If he said something in response it was either too quiet to be heard through your cocoon of blankets or simply came after you fell too deep into the first REM cycle. Distantly you thought you heard something, a breath of an answer, but by the time you placed it as a possibly whispered, “You either,” you were already much, much too far gone.

Pancakes.

You wake up to the smell of pancakes.

Jeno’s apartment looks so different in the sunlight that for a second, even though the memories of last night trickle back faster than expected once you open your eyes, you almost don’t recognize the place when you sit up.

Snapshots pop into your brain like fireworks as the seconds tick on; the showcase, the party, punching Jeon Soyeon in the face. Your brother’s best friend driving you to his house as you cried in the aftermath, confessing his feelings two years past the expiry date, the both of you falling asleep out here like you’re a couple of old pals who do this sort of song and dance all the time.

In the span of 24 hours, you’ve faced more highs and lows than you have all year.

And before you can even wipe the crusties from your eyes, the worry sets in.

Soyeon wasn’t popular for no reason— would her minions be coming after you, now? Had they already started? Bombarding your social media, spreading rumors, flocking protectively around their Queen Bee after you dared to lose your temper on her last night? What fresh hell would you be walking into when you finally checked your phone?

And what about Somi? You’d probably left her with quite the mess after causing such a scene; did the party continue alright? Did you ruin the cheerful atmosphere? You didn’t even get to say goodnight.

And… And Mark, too.

But you weren’t even sure where to start when it came to him.

God. Maybe for the sake of your currently-not-awful mood, you should just not start. About him, or last night, or any of the things that are surely going to be a pain in the ass to deal with in the following days. Those headaches will still be there in a few hours— sorting out the most immediate issue of the person who’s house you’re hiding in, will not.

It’s a sunny, cloudless morning in Seoul.

You turn to the smell of the pancakes and find Jeno standing in his kitchen with one earbud in, back to you. He’s bobbing his head and murmuring under his breath as he flips the batter in the pan, head to toe in what looks to be work-out gear; black leggings under charcoal basketball shorts, one of those skin tight athletic tanks stretched taut across what you can see of his shoulder blades from your dent in his couch.

You’re in the middle of being annoyed at how broad he is when, despite being careful to not to ruffle the blankets or anything, Jeno glances behind him. You’re caught off guard by it— because what the hell? Does he have a secret eyeball hiding amongst those locks of inky black hair?— but then you belatedly understand that it’s the lack of noise that’s tipped him off. With how violently you snore, a sudden silence is basically your jingling cat-bell of attention. Annoying.

“I was just about to wake you up,” he says. “Do you mind flipping the last few of these so I can take a shower really quick? Breakfast is just about done.”

“You went to the gym?”

It’s less a question, more of an observation, but Jeno hums in agreement. “The one in the building, I didn’t leave you for too long. I would’ve waited until tonight if I didn’t already know that you never wake up before 11.”

There’s a momentary blip of something odd in your brain at the concept of him just knowing something like that about you, but it’s gone— by force— as fast as it appears.

“Okay. Just have to flip?”

“Just have to flip.”

And so you just flip. Jeno passes you with a smile as he leaves the kitchen, looking the perfect picture of casual, as if this is an everyday experience. It’s so casual that it makes you wonder how this might look to an outsider, someone with no context for what last night was like— and then it makes you acutely aware of how loudly the 15 year-old version of you would be hollering right now if she could see five years into the future and witness this scene herself. You, in Jeno’s clothes, flipping pancakes in his kitchen on a beautiful Saturday morning, as he showers in the bathroom you’d shared last night, washing the toil and sweat of physical exertion off of his body.

Yeah. Without context? 15 year-old you probably would’ve screamed until her head exploded.

Jeno thankfully isn’t gone for long, and by the time you hear the faucet turn off, you’ve finished with the very last pancake. You pile it on top of the half a dozen others, a beautiful stack of fluffy dough and sugar. (And, okay, sure, you’d gotten a liberal with the chocolate chips on the last few after realizing you’d misjudged the cooking time on some of the earlier ones and left them chocochipless, overcompensating by pouring all of the remaining dollops into the last two or three for the sake of not wasting them— but whatever. Even with the gooey, more-chocolate-than-bread pancakes sitting on top, your work could surely still make the cover of a Martha Stuart cookbook.)

You don’t see him come out because you’re moving the plate of food to his dining table, but you know he’s close because he laughs when he spots the brown pancakes. You know he’s laughing at the brown pancakes, because:

“You’re really pushing the limit of what can be considered breakfast with that last one there, don’t you think?”

“You’re not going to care what meal of the day this is once you actually taste it.”

“Why? Because it’s hard to tell the time when you’re in a sugar-induced coma?”

You sniff. “If you’re so worried about your health you could always let me have it. I made a few that don’t have any chips. You can have those sad ones then.”

A moment passes and you turn to look at him. Bad choice. Hip bones and pale skin everywhere— it’s like a flash-bang of narrow waist, courtesy of Jeno raising his arms (and therefore the hem of his t-shirt) to dry the last drops of water from his hair with the towel he’s brought out with him. You rip your eyes back to setting the table before he notices, feeling like your eyeballs have just been physically zapped.

“I never said I was worried about my health,” he replies, wandering a little further into the kitchen. “Split it with me?”

There’s no need for that. There’s like, three of them. We can each have one. But for some reason you instead say, “Only if I get the half that has more chips.”

“I thought that was already obvious,” he smiles in return.

Fifteen minutes later, with two-thirds of your stack messily decimated and his entire plate basically as clean as it was when it came out of the cupboard, Jeno must decide that your morning of peace has gone on for long enough.

“Mark called me last night,” he announces.

(Technically he says it very normally, at a perfectly acceptable volume for general conversation, but because you’d both lapsed into silence after a few sentences of small talk at the table— a compliment from him about your showcase, about how cool you’d looked up there, how impressive your choreography was; a mumbled thanks from you, that there was another one happening after winter break— it comes out like an announcement anyway. An announcement you’re none too happy to hear.)

You’re hoping he doesn’t notice how your face goes a little stiff. “Did he?”

“Mm. He said he got worried because you weren’t answering your phone.”

You probably would’ve been dodging his calls regardless but the truth is that your phone is still somewhere in Gawon’s car and has probably been since before the party even started. You’d realized that last night, after changing your clothes in his bathroom and not finding it in any of your jacket’s nooks and crannies; seeing in your mind the exact door pocket you’d left it in, then thinking you’d definitely remember to grab it before you got out. You didn’t.

You could only imagine the carnage of notifications you’ve amassed since last night.

“And?”

“And, once I told him you were alright here, he said he’d leave a voice message that he wanted me to pass on to you. I told him I’d let you hear it in the morning once you had the energy, after you slept off whatever was in your system.”

Hesitantly, you meet his eyes.

“Are you ready for that?” he asks carefully. “I haven’t listened to it, if you want to be alone when it plays.”

“What’s the point in that? It’s not like he isn’t going to relay my scolding to you later anyway. Press it.”

“He’s not going to scold you—”

You flick your gaze at him, silently asking if he really wants to get into this again, and apparently he thinks better of whatever gushingly optimistic sentence he’d been about to follow up that observation with. “Please just press it.”

He presses it.

“Hey— Hey, tiger.”

And then Mark is here. Vocally. In the flesh. Through the uncomfortably clear speakers in his best friend’s phone.

“I hope you’re doing better than you were when I last saw you.”

The cadence of his voice twists up your lungs for a reason you can’t immediately place, and then you realize it’s because he’s speaking in English, which he only resorts to when he has too many things to say and not enough ways to say them. This makes your insides sink even further.

“Listen, before I get sidetracked, I want you to know that I know what I did was… stupid. The last thing I should’ve done was help her up after what she said, but I— I was so angry that I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t know about any of… that stuff, you and her hanging out or whatever, until she said it, and that probably would’ve ticked me off anyway because of some other things I had going on with her, but then she mentioned whatever happened there— that she apparently left you at some night club, alone, with some fucking guy—?”

A sigh and a ruffle this time, like he’s passing his hand over his face in agitation. It takes so much for him to curse in front of you and yet he’d just dropped the most serious one of them all like it was nothing. But while this would usually send your blood running cold, it doesn’t. Because it… it kind of doesn’t sound like he’s actually mad at you. What?

“I asked her if it was true because I was so... Honestly I didn’t realize how it looked until after you left, you know? Like I was siding with her or something? I asked her if it was true because I couldn’t believe that she’d do something like that to you. Not because I would’ve ever trusted her word over yours or something, she’s already proven… God, okay, this message is already at like, two minutes…”

Another sigh. This one is much more miserable than the previous.

For some stupid, distant reason, as the shock wears on from the realization that he isn’t mad at you, you find yourself wondering if Jeno is having a hard time following along. The only class he’d ever come close to failing in high school was English.

“Can you just call me? Please? Or better yet, can you just let Jeno drive you home? I’ll explain everything so much better once you’re in front of me. M’ sorry, again that I… You’ve got a great right hook by the way. You shouldn’t have punched her, violence is never ever the answer. But she was leaking like a faucet for long after you left, Tiger— might’ve snapped something in there. Really laid her out.” A short, weak laugh, and then,“Yeah. Please call. Or come home? Please.”

The message ends with a cheerful beep.

And you sit there in silence for a good, long moment.

Because that wasn’t anything like the drawing-and-quartering you were expecting.

If anything, Mark actually sounded angry on your behalf. He’d helped Soyeon up, probably without thinking, because he was asking her if she’d really done something that awful to you. Not because he actually…

“You’re gonna let me do what he wants right?”

Jeno’s expression had, at some point during your staring off into space, contorted the closest you think you’ve ever seen it get to an outright, I told you so. And you guess he did. You didn’t get scolded.

“I— I was going to stop at my friend's house to get my phone,” you say, still a little shocked. “Left it in her car last night before I got to the party.”

“Where does she live?”

“Gamyeon.”

Jeno only shrugs. “We'll pitstop then.”

“You— You’re going to drive me all the way to Gamyeon?”

“Isn’t it only twenty minutes out of the way?” He blinks. “How were you going to get it before I was going to take you home?”

“I… I was pretty gungho about sneaking out of here at the crack of dawn via Uber, last night?” It comes out like a guilty question. “I had a bit of a plan of action. But that was before I woke up to the smell of pancakes, of course…”

“The pancakes you didn’t know I was making until half an hour ago? At 11AM?” he asks innocently. “If what you really mean is that getting up at the crack of dawn turned out to be a little ambitious for you, you can just—”

Jeno laughs as your hand shoots out to swat him. He smartly decides to change the subject, and this new topic ends up being about the dishes; specifically about him loading them into the dishwasher while you go and gather your belongings into the little drawstring book bag he’d left by the bathroom for you. When you ask him why you don’t just change back into what you had on last night so he doesn’t have to go without his hoodie and sweatpants for however long it takes you to do laundry, he shrugs it off. “You look more comfortable in this than the dress. And I’m at your place more often than I’m in my own, it’s not like I’ll miss it for too long. Keep it for now.”

(And you can’t argue with that. Especially not when he’s right. These sweatpants are way nicer than the tightly ribbed-nylon of Gawon’s mini dress.)

While brushing your teeth, you wonder what to do with the toothbrush.

Leaving it feels… odd. In a stupid way it almost feels like you’d be leaving it to return to. Like there’s any chance that after today you’ll ever be spending another unannounced night in this apartment, which there isn’t if you’ll have anything to do about it. But taking the toothbrush with you, or throwing it away, feels weird too.

In the end you decide to just toss it in your bag and take it back to Mark’s. Jeno won’t say anything about it, you know he won't, but if he miraculously does seem to care, you can just say that you’ve been meaning to get a new toothbrush and that it’s not like he has any use for this one anymore anyway. Maybe you’ll even offer to give him five bucks to make up for the thievery. (God, why are you thinking so hard about this? Like he's going to waste his time chasing you down for a fucking toothbrush?)

And after all that brainpower he doesn’t even say anything. Once he comes out after using the bathroom himself, if he’s even noticed it missing he doesn’t let it show. He just asks if you’re ready to go, and when you nod, that’s the end of it. He leads you out, follows you down the corridor, and then pushes the button for the elevator to come and pick you both up. Easy as pie.

It’s only when you’re in the descending cabin that it hits you, that this is the last time you’ll be here.

You try not to think too hard about why your lips inherently want to frown at that idea.

Twenty minutes to Gamyeon feels more like five, with how much catastrophizing you’re doing in the passenger's seat. Soyeon and her crew will have surely started the city-wide search for you by now, right? Should you be telling Jeno to take back roads? To roll his windows up on this beautiful late August afternoon, so no one from SNU recognizes either of you from the party and tries to run you both off the road? God.

“Can I borrow your phone?” you blurt.

And even though you’d literally asked him for it, you’re a little astounded when he just hands the thing over without question. You shouldn’t be though. He’d done the same thing with the music change request three weeks ago.

(Still no password, either, when you swipe at the screen. What is this guy's problem?)

“Do you need to call someone?”

“No,” you murmur, already scanning through the pages to find Twitter, “I want to see if Soyeon put a hit out for me yet.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

You blink over, a little dubious that even someone as sweet as him can’t fathom why Soyeon could have it out for you after what you did, but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

“Uh, I don’t know, Jeno. There’s a possibility that she might be a little upset since I punched her in the face a few hours ago.”

“You didn’t even hit her that hard.”

You balk at him. “Did you not hear the part where Mark said I might’ve broken her nose?”

“I did.”

“And it’s confusing to you that she might be really, really mad at me for that?”

“No,” Jeno mutters. “It’s confusing to me that you think she wouldn’t have come to her senses by now, considering how close she came to getting her ass kicked last night. As far as she knows the only reason you didn’t get to finish her off was because I got in your way. If Soyeon isn’t stupid, she’ll understand that it’s in her best interest to stay off your radar from now on.”

He sounds so unsympathetic that your jaw nearly drops. And he’s not even done. Like your worry has uncorked his own agitation, now.

“I wouldn't have pulled you off of her if I’d known that she was the one who sent that freak out after you behind the bar, by the way. I didn’t hear anything either of you said before you hit her. if I knew why, I would’ve let you get a few more swings in, at least. Sorry.”

“Sorry! You’re apologizing for not letting me beat someone else up?”

“Yes,” he says unflinchingly. “This once. Don’t go around getting in fights for the hell of it though, I won’t be there to haul you to the cool-down corner every time.”

He’s joking now, lightness returning to his smile as he turns into Gawon’s neighborhood, but you’re still a little stuck on how serious he’d gotten just now. Never in your life would you have expected Jeno to be in your corner when it came to your less than stellar impulse control; and not only condone it, but applaud it, just because Soyeon had done something that could’ve gotten you hurt.

...Jeez. Something like appreciation (but more ravenous and embarrassing) worms its way into your heart. You allowed it to simmer there for a one warm, full second before stamping it out with the heel of self-preservation.

You don’t even get to check Twitter. Gawon’s apartment building is more squat than most, only four cozy stories all encapsulated within an open-air stairwell, which means you can keep an eye on Jeno’s car all the way up to your friend’s front door. Coming unannounced, you’ve already prepared yourself for the possibility of her not being home (and therefore having to deal with her scary roommate instead) but thank God, it’s her round sleepy face that opens the door after your quick three knocks against the wood.

She doesn’t remain sleepy looking for long though.

"Holy shit!” And without greeting, Gawon yanks you into her house. “You— Well, first things first, you’re here for your phone, right? Let me go and get it, I brought it inside, but bitch, you have some explaining to do!”

Considering how loud she’s being, the scary roommate must not be home this weekend. You wince. You’ll be getting the full degree, then.

“People are texting me that I haven’t talked to in months just because they know I’m friends with you! Does that make sense?”

“It’s that bad?” you ask warily, as she disappears into her bedroom.

“Bad? Is what bad?”

“Soyeon’s warpath.”

“Soyeon?” Gawon returns to her living room with your phone in hand, eyes wider than you’re expecting. “Uh. No. After last night—” She frowns. “You haven’t talked to your brother yet?”

“No? I haven’t been home since before the showcase. And your car ate my phone so I haven’t really talked to anyone else since last night either.”

But her eyes get even bigger, if that’s possible.

“So you have no idea what happened after Lee Jeno plucked you out of there, then?”

“No.” Your grimace is nearly audible as you sit down, sensing trouble. “You guys didn’t just laugh, turn the music up, and party even harder? You know, like I was hoping you’d all do after that mess I caused?”

“Oh, yeah, we did that,” Gawon says with an unconvincingly casual shrug, before finding your eye and trying (and failing) to hide her widening grin. “After your brother tore Soyeon apart in front of everyone for fucking you over!”

“He— What?”

“Dude, it was crazy, Mark— I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him raise his voice even once but the second the door shut after Jeno took you away, whatever it was she said that made you punch her finally seemed to compute in his head, you know? And he just went, ‘You left her alone with someone she told you was creeping her out?’ like, so loudly that you’d swear it was just the two of them in that whole house!”

For the second time in ten minutes, your jaw has hit the floor.

“And I thought Soyeon would start yelling back at him or something, but she’s just standing there staring at him like she’s stunned, probably that it’s him of all people laying into her, saying that he almost can't believe how selfish and pitiful she is, but oh yeah, yes he can, because only someone that doesn’t have respect for themselves would do she did to him last year; that he would’ve helped her if she just asked. And you should’ve seen her face when he said that. It looked like she’d seen a ghost.And he didn’t even air out whatever it was that she did, which I’m salty about, because… What did she do, you know? I’m so curious! But whatever, that’s not even the best part.”

Not the best part? How? This is pretty fucking insane to you already.

“Mark backed up after dropping that bomb like he was about to leave, to go after you maybe, but then he turned and got right back in Soyeon’s face, and said, ‘I don’t want to see you in front of her again, Soyeon. Take this advice as my parting gift, yeah? Because she’s not going to let you get away with only a graze next time, and you better believe that I’m not going to get in her way either.’” Gawon squeals. “All badass like that, I almost fucking screamed! He and all his friends left after that but I swear everyone was talking about it for the rest of the party. Your brother probably has quite a few new admirers…”

You’re staring at her in an awed silence. Mark stood up for you, too. After hearing everything Soyeon said, he still stood up for you. It really wasn’t like how you thought it went at all.

A few hours ago you’d thought your brother was done with you for real, and that Soyeon would be coming for you with pitchforks for embarrassing her in front of all those people at Somi’s party. And now you’re learning that, without your input at all, those two problems have sort of canceled each other out. Your brother threatened Soyeon into leaving you alone on your behalf.

(And if you weren’t so weirdly flattered, you might’ve been incredibly offended. What is it with him and Jeno and talking like you’re some sort of rabid dog that goes around fucking people up for fun? You’re not that violent!)

“That’s… kind of awesome,” you admit, trying not to smile as you stand up from her couch. “And very, very reassuring. Thanks for the rundown. Maybe I’ll actually be able to show my face on campus on Monday without worrying that I’m about to be struck by a G-Wagon.”

Gawon laughs as she follows you back to the entryway. The two of you chat about a few smaller things before you tell her you have to go, mostly about the plans for dance class on Monday now that the showcase is over and how worried Somi was about you after you left in such a tizzy last night, when she stops you right after cracking open her front door.

“But you know,” she begins, “None of that was what I was referring to when I said you had some explaining to do, missy.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No! Well, people were talking about it, sure, but not nearly as much as the other thing you did in front of everyone last night.”

“Which was?”

“Elope.”

You blink at her.

“I’m talking about the denim-wearing superhero that swooped in to save you from yourself. Hello? Lee Jeno?”

Oh. Your expression flips from confusion to alarm in the blink of an eye.

“People were talking about that? What is there to talk about? He’s my brother's friend!”

“Duh. That’s why people were talking about it. You know how much they love to make up stories about who-was-seen-doing-what-with-who. And honestly even as your friend I have to say that it was pretty fucking crazy last night watching this guy practically teleport across the room to get to you. And yes, you argue that he’s your brother's friend, blah blah, it’s obvious that he’d help, blah, but you fail to notice that Lee Jeno was standing around in a group of all your brother's other friends too. Why didn’t any of the others do something, then? Why specifically Lee Jeno— especially when that guy is the most quiet and subdued of the lot of them? Everyone was tittering about that.”

Her face slips into something a little more suspicious when you only swallow unsurely. Unsure, because you actually don’t know either. You, obviously, had been a little preoccupied before Jeno appeared behind you; you had no clue what he or the others had been doing in the moments before he hauled you outside. Learning that he’d been the only one out of all of them to jump into action makes you feel off-center.

“But as the awesome friend that I am, I told all the people who came up to me looking for details to get lost, because I’d obviously be one of the first to know if you had something going on with Basketball Hottie, and I don’t. And I was telling the truth, right? I would know if something was going on there. Right?”

“Of course!” you reassure quickly. “Which is why you don’t know. Because nothing is going on there. Nothing will be going on. Ever.”

She squints.

“I’m serious! Jeno’s just a really good guy. Super chivalrous, down to the bones. He takes his duty as Mark’s best friend very personally, so he gets involved in stuff with me that the others might not figure out as fast. It’s nothing crazy.”

Another beat passes before she unfurls her arms. “…Okay. I mean, I assumed as much. It makes sense. Especially since Somi said you’ve all known each other for something like, a hundred years— no wonder that he’d basically see you as a sister too after so long, I guess.”

You’re not at all expecting that statement to sting, but it does, in a surprisingly raw way.

At least Gawon doesn’t notice your smile falter, because she’s too busy asking her final question as you step out past her front door. “How’d you get here this early, anyway? Cab?”

“Ah, no. Jeno—”

It comes out without thought, a millisecond before you realize the mistake you’re about to make. Both you and Gawon freeze, staring at each other in the silence that follows, before she goes, “Jeno brought you here? But you said you didn’t go home last night.”

Then, as your head swung back and forth in refusal but no explanation came out with it, she tilted her own head in disbelief. “Where… Where did you sleep, then?”

And the final killing blow comes as her eyes drift down almost absentmindedly to the chest of your gray sweatshirt. Jeno’s sweatshirt. Seoul National University Basketball, it says, splashed boldly across the front. Direct. Recognizable. Unmistakable.

You turn around and start to run right as Gawon gasps in pure, wanton betrayal. There’s no explaining this. Not now. Not today. Even if you had an hour to spare right now to sit down and relay every second that passed last night in a way that made her understand this absolutely isn’t what it looks like— which is that you’re totally lying about nothing going on between you and Lee Jeno— Gawon only believes what her eyes physically see in front of her, and even you aren’t naive enough to think that this won’t be the most glaringly suspicious thing she has ever seen.

You’re halfway down the stairs when her voice catches up with you.

“It’s nothing crazy, huh? It’s nothing crazy, you liar! Just wait until I catch you on Monday, girl! We’ll see exactly what’s not crazy between you and Mr.Chivalrous!”

Approximately two minutes after closing the front door behind yourself after walking into your brother’s apartment, you’re crying again. Mark is too. He’s the one that started it. It’s just a lot of tears all around.

Everything kind of comes out at once. It begins as spewed apologies on both ends for last night specifically— him for ever letting things get bad enough that you’d genuinely think he’d ever choose someone else over you, and you for being such a brat for the last few weeks (the last few months) when you’d always known deep down that he only ever did the things that annoyed you out of desire to keep you safe— and then it unfurls into apologies for everything, eon-old grudges that were held for no other reason than something to lord over the others head, grievances that turned out to just be the miscommunications, the type of things that immediately stop mattering in the long run when people remember that they can lose each other easier than they think.

After about a half an hour of this (what Mark used to call ‘coming home’ when you were younger, the inevitable rekindling after a period of heightened fighting between you both) you both come away with a few things to think about.

For him? It’s official. You’re not a kid anymore, and he shouldn’t still be treating you like one. No more attempting to put curfews on you, or telling you where you can and can’t go, or telling his friends to censor themselves when they’re over because of your precious and innocent ears, amongst his other million older-brother-isms. You’re both adults now. He can suggest things. He can speak to you like he would his friends about the things you do that worry him. No more lectures. (Unless you do something really, unarguably stupid, he caveats.)

For you? A serious, genuine attempt towards better decision making.

You’ve been bestowed a new motto to ponder every time an opportunity arises for mischief in your life. What Would Mark Lee Do? A question meant to make you really think about whether the thing you’re thinking about doing is going to make your brother crazy. And if it is? Then you have to tell him about it in advance, so he can at least bail you out if it goes belly up.

And that’s honestly perfectly fine with you.

The last rule he slips in revolves around your tendency to disappear without warning. Absolutely no more sneaking around, he says. If you exit this apartment when he’s not home, he gets to know about when and where. Not because I don't trust you, he’d been quick to add, but because the world itself can be a scary place sometimes. Which you don’t exactly… disagree with. Especially after this most recent incident at Nabi Bar.

You’d pushed back a little bit on this one though, preemptively annoyed by the thought of having to text him every single time you leave— your friends liked spontaneity, early morning brunches or midnight-sets at EDM pop-ups— and you were a chronic charger-forgetter, often running out of this place with only thirty-percent or less to your name. You didn’t like the idea of his trust teetering on nothing but your (admittedly sub-par) ability to remember to do certain things before you left the house.

Mark only pulled his own phone out in response.

You watched him tap a few things, swipe, and then turn the screen around to show you the order he’d just placed for two succinct little items: a brand new Apple AirTag and a cute, neon-green pom-pom keychain to stick it into.

“To match the color of your phone case,” he said cheerily. “Put it on your keys, and you’ll never have to worry about forgetting! Perfect, right?”

Yep, you smiled sarcastically. Perfect. Like one might an excitable dog, or a toddler with a tendency to run, you’ve been given your very own tracker.

(He knows you’re kidding. It’s built into the Little Sister Gene to complain, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re actually rather pleased by the compromise. Less secrets means less stress, and it’s not like he’s doing it so he can watch you like a hawk or anything— it’s for those times he can’t reach you and just wants to know where you are. You’ll wear that pretty little piece of technology on your wrist like the hottest new Cartier bangle if it means going where you want, when you want, without worrying about worrying your brother.)

It’s half past one when the conversation loosens up to other things, like you demanding the play-by-play of what he’d said to Soyeon and him flushing up to his ears as obliged, embarrassed in hindsight by how angry he’d gotten (but not regretting it, he’d sheepishly admitted), and then to the concept of lunch, Mark offering to fry something up while you get a head-start on the mountain of homework you’ve been neglecting for studio time ahead of the showcase.

It’s a quiet afternoon, which you’re thankful for. Whether it’s because Mark simply hadn’t planned for the others to come over or because he expressly told them not to, it ends up just being you two, a family-sized bag of Doritos, and a few episodes of Running Man.

(You hadn’t realized just how much you missed it until then. How much you missed him. How long it’s been since you’ve done something like this without waiting for the other shoe to drop— for him to get mad at you for something you did or didn’t do, for you to get mad at him for getting mad at you. And it’s kind of embarrassing tearing up while people fall and slip and slide through an obstacle course covered in dish soap, so you tell Mark that it’s because you got a fleck of cool ranch dust in your eye when he turns to look at you after your sniffle comes out a bit wet.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe you, and a week ago you can’t help but think that this would’ve led to an interrogation. Is something wrong? What happened? Did something happen? Are you in trouble again? What did you do?

But today he lets it go. He stares at you for a second, hands you a napkin, pinches your cheek, and then lets it go.

And that almost makes you cry again for real.)

The evening sun creeps down in the sky like a thief, a cloudless day melting into a brilliant dusk; all of the windows in Mark’s apartment are drawn and the living room is lit up like the inside of a tangerine lamp. You’re lazing around on the couch while your brother showers, deeply entrenched in a Cup Pong battle Somi (which had only come about after she facetimed you, demanding that you spill all detail about what the hell happened while she was down in the car park last night, to which you’d somewhat begrudgingly relayed the story yet again: Mark, Soyeon, The Punch, Jeno, Jeno’s apartment, etc., and she’d cursed at you for being apologetic for causing a scene in her house because ‘that bitch totally deserved it,’ she insisted) when an unexpected name pops down from the top of your screen.

An unexpected name boasting an even more unexpected message.

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Found your earring in my bathroom

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Guess it fell out sometime last night

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] You want me to come drop it off tonight?

[You, 7:12PM] ???

[You, 7:12PM] what sense does that make

[You, 7:12PM] you would come over here just to drop off a singular earring??

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Juyeon is throwing a house warming party three blocks from you guys, I'm already in the area

[You, 7:12PM] oh. well. it’s not like you don’t come over every other day anyway

[You, 7:12PM] just bring it with you next time

[You, 7:12PM]…thank you for finding it though

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] No problem

That’s more definitive of a metaphorical hanging-up of the phone than anything, isn’t it? You thought so for about thirty solid seconds, scrolling back over to your thread with Somi and distractedly taking another shot at Cup Pong, before you were proven wrong.

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] Okay I was also asking because I wanted to see if you were alright

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] You and Mark, I mean

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] After I dropped you off this morning I already felt a little bit like I’d thrown you into a pressure cooker with nothing but a thumbs up

[Lee Jeno,7:13PM] Then he texted the group chat an hour later to tell all of us to get lost, that his place was off limits for the rest of the day even though he’d already had a movie night planned. I figured that meant your chat with him either went really, really poorly, or that you two were just catching up and didn’t want to be interrupted

[Lee Jeno, 7:13PM] I thought if I saw you with my own eyes I’d know the difference, but with just the text alone, I’m having a hard time…

Oh. Wow. He’s never texted you this many words or this many times before. And just to check in, too?

[You, 7:14PM] no need to worry !! we made up in a pretty big way actually

[You, 7:14PM] after you left we had the big sit-down and figured a lot of things out

[You, 7:14PM] he probably told you not to come over because he has like eight million Tiktoks he’s been wanting to show me that he couldn’t because we were fighting, and now that we’re okay again he plans on holding me hostage until I laugh at every single one

[You, 7:14PM] these last few hours have been a bit of a nightmare in that sense but otherwise it’s

[You, 7:14PM] good?

[You, 7:14PM] we’re good

[You, 7:14PM] thanks to you

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] I’m just happy to be the chauffeur. Nothing to thank me for

Well… Not quite. Usually you can let the bone-deep chivalry slide, it’s his ‘thing’ after all, but this time the consequences of what could’ve happened are too big to ignore.

[You, 7:14PM] there really is, though

[You, 7:15PM] i don't think Mark and I would’ve gotten out of this as intact as we are without you this weekend

[You, 7:15PM] i really, really do need to thank you

[You, 7:15PM] for this morning

[You, 7:15PM] and for last night

More memories flutter by, different iterations of Lee Jeno unarguably saving your ass from some sort of peril, and you grimace further.

[You, 7:15PM] and two weeks ago, for Nabi Bar.

[You, 7:15PM] and last week, for Wooyoung’s party

[You, 7:15PM] thanks for… everything, really.

[You, 7:15PM] i’m happy you’re Mark’s friend

His bubble comes up for a long, long time after your last message. You watch it disappear and reappear at least twice before his next message comes in… and even then it’s woefully short for how long he’d taken to type it.

[Lee Jeno, 7:16PM] What do you mean?

[You, 7:16PM] i mean that I’m happy Mark… has you

[You, 7:16PM] there aren’t many people that would be nearly as cool as you’ve been about babysitting their best friends sibling so many times, is what I’m saying

[Lee Jeno, 7:16PM] But I wasn’t babysitting you.

Oh. Is that what this air of confusion is about? Semantics? Jeno, the thoughtful guy that he is, not wanting you to see what happened this weekend as babysitting because he doesn’t want to hurt your big-girl feelings?

[You, 7:17PM] ah

[You, 7:17PM] okay

[You, 7:17PM] we won’t call it that, then!!

[You, 7:17PM] Mark is still lucky to have you though

[Lee Jeno, 7:17PM] I didn’t do anything that I did last night because I was thinking about your brother

Again, you can only blink. A reply from Somi pops down for half a second before you swipe it away to reread Jeno’s last text, sitting up in confusion.

[You, 7:12PM] then why did you do it?

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Because it was you

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Nabi Bar, Wooyoung’s, last night, all of it. Everything. The only thing I was thinking about was you.

[Lee Jeno, 7:12PM] Mark didn’t have anything to do with it. He stopped having anything to do with it the second you came back to Seoul.

In the minutes you’ve been focused on the screen, the sunset has bled away most of its brilliant orange. Now the sky is more purple than anything, pale lilac peeking through the buildings across the street. Along with the lack of sunlight, the temperature seems to have dropped in the apartment; the air conditioner’s breeze threatening to raise goosebumps along your cheeks and thighs and knees now that the sun isn’t here to combat it.

But you’re not feeling cold. Quite the opposite, actually.

In a matter of seconds you’ve actually begun to emanate enough heat to rival your elderly Toshiba laptop from 2012.

Your brain kind of feels like that Toshiba too. Like you’ve just clicked the left mouse one too many times and now 100 tabs have all opened up at the exact same instant, all playing the same snippet of audio at maximum volume— You. You. Thinking about you. About you. Worried about you. Just about you— all of them desperately trying to frame those words in a way that doesn’t set off the crush of childhood’s past laying dormant in your head.

But even the delusional part of your brain is pulling a blank on this one.

Because while you may be unhinged about Jeno most of the time, you are not unhinged about Jeno all of the time, and there are moments when even you can’t rationalize your way out of what’s staring you right in the face. Sometimes, however rarely, you see things for what they really are. Or what they are not.

And the string of texts that Jeno has just sent to your phone is not, in any conceivable way, a conversation that makes sense, when not even 24 hours ago you and Jeno essentially shook on the fact that everything would be going back to normal after last night. So we’re okay, he asked. We’re okay, you’d said. And you took that to mean things were on track to return to status quo. You’d go back to greeting each other when he came over, the occasional small talk and string of jokes, nodding at each other on campus, that sort of thing. You’d go back to just being the peripheral little sister. He’d go back to just being your brothers friend. The way life was before that night at Nabi Bar.

But in what world does, ‘He stopped having anything to do with it the second you came back to Seoul,’ fit into that equation at all? In fact— doesn’t that break the equation entirely?

Because what… what would you be to him then, without Mark?

Your lungs stutter a little wantonly. You don’t think you’ve ever asked yourself that question. And now that you have, your mind is prodding at doors it’s never acknowledged the existence of before. When you imagine yourself in his eyes, it’s only ever been through the relationship you have with his best friend; and that, in turn, has colored the way that you react to every single thing he does or says.

If he’s saying now that’s not how he sees you and that’s not how he’s been seeing you, then that re-contextualizes… quite a few things, doesn’t it?

The last three weeks of him going out of his way to help you, for one?

Your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] Things are getting kind of crazy over here, Juyeon just brought out a t-shirt gun so I think I have to go

[Lee Jeno, 7:14PM] Mark moved movie night to Tuesday. I’ll bring your earring over then, so make sure you’re home. Maybe you can also explain why your toothbrush is missing from my bathroom.

Sure. Perfect. Any way to avoid replying to the previous batch of texts, you’ll accept in a heartbeat. You fire off some half-baked response, a few ‘ha-ha, yeah, totally’s, to disguise just how hard the gears in your head are spinning, though nothing feels very ha-ha yeah once you fling the phone away. You slump back against the couch cushions, even more mentally exhausted than you’d been a few hours ago with Mark.

The only thing I was thinking about was you.

What an insane thing to say, you miff, belatedly embarrassed. You can almost see his mouth forming the words, his voice as deep and annoyingly honest as always. What the hell are you doing, Lee Jeno?

Shit. Are you just reading way too far into this? Or are things really not nearly as okay between you both as he wants you to think they are?

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a/n: please let me know what you think, this chapter beat my ass left right and sideways... ontwards ch7 my friends...

a/n ii: this chapter is dedicated to @jnnul btw their mention of misdial on their tumblr wrapped cheered me up enough to force myself to sit down and figure this fucking story out LOL