#but not knowing for sure is the worst part of this‚ i think. i know he's hurting‚ and he knows i know what it's like to lose a parent

[narcissisticsmoker]

I can’t stop watching you.

The way you shift in your chair, legs pressing together, trying so hard to focus on the screen in front of you, but I know better. I see the way frustration coils in your muscles, how your fingers tap against the desk, restless, needy. You think you’re being subtle, but I notice everything. Every little sigh, every little squirm.

And it’s intoxicating.

The office buzzes around us. People talking, phones ringing, keys clacking. But I only hear you. I wait, letting you simmer in that heat, letting you think no one has caught onto your desperate little secret. But when I move, I make sure you feel me first.

A slow, deliberate presence behind you. The ghost of my breath against your neck. My fingers grazing over your shoulder so lightly it could be an accident, but we both know it’s not.

You freeze.

Your breath catches, but you don’t turn around. You don’t dare.

“You’re not as discreet as you think,” I murmur against the shell of your ear, my voice just a vibration against your skin, deep and knowing.

Your entire body shivers, the tension in you snapping taut, and I know you want to deny it. You want to act like you don’t know what I mean. But I can see it in the way your thighs squeeze together beneath the desk, in the way your fingers curl against the armrest.

“You’ve been waiting for someone to notice, haven’t you?” My voice is low, teasing. “So desperate for someone to take care of this little problem you’ve been having all day.”

You don’t answer, but you don’t move away either. That’s all I need.

My fingers trail down your arm, slow, just a whisper of contact. Enough to make you exhale shakily. Enough to make you want more.

“Come with me.”

I don’t give you time to think. I take your wrist, firm but unhurried, leading you past the rows of desks, past oblivious coworkers too lost in their own screens to notice you being led away like a lamb to slaughter.

The second the restroom door clicks shut behind us, you press back against the cold tile, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Your hands grip the fabric of my shirt, hesitant, torn between restraint and surrender.

I press in close, my body against yours, hands bracketing either side of your head. You have nowhere to go, but you don’t look like you want to leave.

“You should’ve just asked,” I murmur, my fingers skimming down the side of your waist, feeling the way you tremble beneath my touch. “Instead of sitting out there suffering all day.”

Your lips part, but I don’t let you speak. My hands slide down, fingers teasing under the hem of your skirt. You’re already warm, already pulsing with want, and I can’t help but smirk.

“So wet already?” I taunt, my breath hot against your ear. “You really were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

Your nails dig into my arms as I touch you, teasing you open, drawing out every little gasp, every little whimper. You try to stay quiet, biting down on your lip, but I don’t let you have that either. I want to hear you.

By the time I finally take you, you’re trembling, clinging to me, lost in it. The way your body clutches around me, the way you move against me, so desperate, so eager, it’s almost too much.

I don’t stop until you break. Until I feel you tighten around me, shaking, moaning my name so sweetly that I have no choice but to follow, pressing deep inside you, spilling into you with a groan that echoes in the empty restroom.

We stay like that for a moment, panting, shivering, bodies tangled together.

And then I lift your chin, forcing you to meet my gaze, my thumb grazing over your swollen lips.

“Now I know,” I whisper, smirking, “that you’re mine whenever I want you.”

The worst part?

You don’t even try to deny it.

[fangdokja]

Yandere royal guards plot twist: reader was isekaid into their world and has no idea wtf they’re saying, so thinks being nonchalant is safest when it’s actually making them insane lmao

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

♡ Yandere! Royal Guards who don’t realize their beloved Sovereign is just some random girl from another world with no clue what’s happening.

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who prowls at your feet like a starving beast, ears twitching, tail lashing, his grin full of sharp promises. “Sovereign, I’ve torn out the tongues of the palace spies. Their screams were... exquisite.” His voice purrs, expectant, waiting.

You stare blankly. “Ah.”

His pupils dilate. His breath shudders. “...Your restraint is incredible.”

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who kneels before you, his wings folding like a dying swan’s. “Sovereign, forgive my forwardness, but do you love us?” His angelic eyes shine with desperation, manic with devotion. “You need only say it, and we shall set fire to the world in your name.”

You blink slowly. He is sweating.

“…Sure.”

His breath hitches—his body trembles—his fingers dig into his chest as though holding his heart inside his ribs. “Such… modesty,” he breathes. “To hide your love beneath cold indifference—your restraint is divine.”

♡ Yandere! Royal Guard who glowers from the shadows, a hulking wall of destruction. “Fight me.” His voice grinds like crushed bone, deep and sharp. “Your fists. Now.”

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

His nostrils flare. His hands twitch. “...You are waiting,” he mutters. “You want me to earn it.” His eyes gleam with lethal reverence. “I will not disappoint you.”

You sip your drink. He goes outside. The walls tremble. The ground shakes. The screams of unfortunate trainees echo into the sky.

They don’t know that you, a confused isekai victim, have no idea what they’re saying. They think your apathy is an unfathomable test. Every blank stare fuels their madness.

And the worst part? You’re just trying to stay alive.

────────────

♡ Note. This is NOT canon. Reader is canonically genetically equipped, capable in her position despite the chaos of the Yandere! Royal Guards, and her apathetic personality is really made to be that way. This is a what-if fanfic to the main story. Character banner art belongs to “inplick” and can be found in Instagram. But, it it also official art from a collaboration between Link Click x Sanrio.

♡ A/N. Anon, my request box is closed even for short requests (this isn't an ask, but a request). Also, please read the RULES before making requests. I only allowed this since I do plan on opening Anon requests; but, I haven't made the official announcement. My request box will officially open 2-5 months from now. But... since this can be used for drabbles anyway, fine. Don't expect me to spoil you guys though! I'm already swamped with a lot of long project requests alongside other works. Also, I don't like doing canon-divergent works of my OC's usually, but fine. Short, attempt at humor idea. Seriously. Please read the Rules, I don't like repeating myself.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn , @yuki-istired

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[mountainsoftreatos]

Just having some thoughts/feels I had to share about Charles’ reaction to Edwin’s confession on the steps of Hell –

People-pleasing Charles – who only feels like a ‘good person’ when he is keeping spirits up and protecting the people he cares about, Edwin most of all – can’t bring himself to respond to Edwin’s confession directly. Initially, Charles cannot bring himself to say “I don’t share those feelings,” because he knows it would hurt Edwin. And hurting Edwin is so antithetical to who he is and wants to be as a person, especially in this moment when Edwin is so vulnerable, when Charles has just seen, for the first time, the torture he had to endure in Hell.

So he compares them to Orpheus and Eurydice. He is trying, in this very stressful moment, to get Edwin to understand, “I love you as much as Orpheus loves Eurydice. I love you enough to risk my entire existence to come down to Hell to get you. No one and nothing could stop me. That is how much I love you.”

And I love Edwin’s response!! Because Charles just compared them to romantic couple, but that doesn’t matter to Edwin if they don’t get out of Hell together. He was serious when he told Charles that he didn’t have to feel the same way. Not being with Charles is the worst possible outcome to Edwin and that is what he focuses on – not the romantic comparison – but the tragic ending.

Charles again tries to avoid addressing Edwin’s confession. When he says he never finished the story, he has this little smile and I’m not actually sure if he is being truthful, or if he does know the story and is trying to make a little joke, but either way, he is trying to tell Edwin, “The important part of the comparison is the strength of love in the story, not how the story ended.”

But Edwin seems even more upset by his answer, his little joke. (I do wonder if it was Crystal pointing out that Charles hides his pain behind a smile that made Edwin push Charles to give him an actual response, or if he would have done it anyways). “I’m being quite serious,” he tells Charles.

And I think Charles realizes that his non-answer is hurting Edwin anyways. He realizes that Edwin needs to know how Charles feels, even if it risks letting Edwin down. And I love Charles’ response:

You, Edwin Payne, are my best mate. That will never change. You are the most important person in the world to me. There’s no one else, no one else, that I would go to Hell for. And we’ve got, and we’ve got literally forever to figure out what the rest means.

These are all very strong, very certain words. He is basically certain about three things:

Edwin is and will always be his best friend.

Charles would risk everything to save Edwin. No one else, just Edwin.

They will be together forever.

Compare that to his line, “And I can’t really say that, like, I’m in love with you back.” There’s uncertainty there! The words “really” and “like” are used as qualifiers, which are words that limit the meaning of another word/phrase. He is softening his words. And telling Edwin “I can’t really say…” is not the same as “I’m not...”, right? “I’m not in love with you back” says,“ I know what I’m feeling and it’s not romantic love.” But “I can’t really say,” communicates, “I do feel something, and in this moment I’m labeling that feeling as not ‘in love’ but that label might not be accurate.” As Jayden Revri said, he leaves it open.

Then he ends by saying they have forever to figure out what the rest means, as long as they get out of Hell – bringing his reassurance back to what Edwin had been concerned about – that they escape Hell together and will be together forever. Okay, lots of thoughts – just had to share!

Ahhhhhh, I just love Charles.

[theodorenmyth]

Hey in love w you page!!! Sooo my request is kind of a song I think it's from Selena gomez " and what hurts the most is people can go from people you know to people you dont" fiction for Theodore and Mattheo maybe like they change and become distant after getting popular.sorry for any grammar mistakes it's not my first language.thank you in advance:)))

People you know.

Pairings : Mattheo x G/N!Reader x Theodore

Summary : Mattheo and Theodore were once your closest friends—until they weren’t. Slowly, they grew distant, leaving you behind without explanation. When you finally confront them, their indifference cuts deeper than any excuse. The worst part? They didn’t even try to hold on.

A/n ; Heeyy!! Did you miss me? I sure missed all of you. Happy late New year's for all of you mythies :3

Warnings ; ANGST, LITERAL ANGST.

Word count ; 900+

At first, it’s nothing.

Mattheo doesn’t sling his arm over your shoulder anymore, doesn’t ruffle your hair when you’re sitting too focused in class, doesn’t smirk at you like you share a secret no one else could understand.

Theodore stops waiting for you after lessons, doesn’t save you a seat in the library, doesn’t tilt his head with that soft, knowing look when you’re too tired to speak.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. They’re busy. Everyone is busy.

They’ll come around.

But then it gets worse.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You walk into the Great Hall one morning, still groggy from sleep, expecting to find them at your usual spot at the Slytherin table. It’s routine—something you’ve done a hundred times. You’ll sit between them, Theo will shove a book at you and tell you to read something he finds interesting, and Mattheo will steal half your food off your plate and act offended when you try to take it back.

But today, your seat is taken.

Not just occupied—claimed.

Mattheo is leaning in close to some girl, laughing at something she’s saying, his hand brushing against hers on the table. Theodore is across from him, muttering something under his breath to a group of students you barely recognize, his sharp, intelligent eyes focused intently on whatever conversation he’s involved in.

They don’t look up when you approach.

You hesitate for a second, your heart stuttering.

It’s fine. Maybe they just didn’t see you.

“Hey,” you greet, sliding your hands into your pockets to ground yourself.

Mattheo glances up, his expression blank for a second before something flickers over his face—like he wasn’t expecting you.

“Oh. Hey.”

There’s something cold in the way he says it, something distant that sinks deep into your ribs.

You glance at Theo, expecting him to say something, anything, but he barely acknowledges you. Just gives the smallest nod, like you’re just another face in the crowd.

Like you’re not you.

You wet your lips, trying to keep your voice steady. “Are we still studying later?”

Mattheo scratches the back of his neck, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Uh. Probably not. Got plans.”

Plans.

You wait for him to elaborate. To say something about catching up later, about rescheduling, about anything.

But he doesn’t.

Neither does Theodore.

Something tightens in your throat. You nod once, quickly, and step back. “Right.”

No one stops you as you walk away.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Days pass. Then weeks.

And soon, you realize they aren’t just busy. They aren’t just distracted.

They’re gone.

Not physically. No, they’re still there, in the same places, sitting at the same tables, walking down the same halls. But they aren’t your Theo and Mattheo.

Not anymore.

You’re not sure when exactly it happens—the moment they stop waiting for you after lessons, the moment they stop saving you a seat at the table, the moment your inside jokes stop landing because you aren’t included in them anymore.

But the distance is undeniable now.

One night, you’re in the common room, staring blankly at the fire, your mind tangled in memories you don’t want to let go of. You’re tired. Tired of feeling like you’re chasing ghosts, of grasping at something that keeps slipping through your fingers.

And then they walk in.

Laughing.

Not just laughing—carefree.

Mattheo is grinning as he shoves Theo’s shoulder, murmuring something that makes Theo chuckle under his breath. They move easily, in sync, the way they always have—except this time, you’re not a part of it.

And what makes it worse—so much worse—is that they don’t even see you.

Not until you make them.

You push yourself up from the couch, crossing the room with steady, deliberate steps.

“We need to talk.”

Mattheo sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Now?”

You swallow hard. “Yes. Now.”

Theodore exhales sharply, looking tired already. “What’s this about?”

You almost laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mattheo raises a brow. “What’s your problem?”

Your problem.

Your problem.

Anger flares in your chest, sudden and sharp. “My problem is that you two have been acting like I don’t fucking exist.”

Mattheo shifts, crossing his arms. “You’re being dramatic.”

You feel like the air is sucked out of your lungs. “Dramatic?”

Theodore sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Things change.”

You stare at him, disbelief curling in your stomach. “And I guess I just wasn’t part of those changes?”

Silence.

You let out a sharp breath, your hands balling into fists. “Did I do something?”

Mattheo looks away.

Theodore doesn’t say anything.

And that’s when you know.

That’s when it hits you—really hits you—that this isn’t something you can fix. This isn’t some fight you can smooth over, some misunderstanding that can be cleared up with the right words.

You’ve already lost them.

And the worst part?

They don’t even care.

Your throat feels tight, like you’re holding back something too painful to name. “I thought we were—” You inhale sharply, shaking your head. “I thought we were more than this.”

Mattheo doesn’t look at you.

Theodore stays silent.

And that? That fucking silence is worse than any excuse they could have given.

You nod slowly, stepping back. “I guess I just didn’t realize how easy it was for you both.” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. “To go from people I knew to people I don’t.”

For a split second—just a second—Theo’s expression flickers. Like maybe there’s something left.

But it’s gone too fast.

Mattheo looks away first.

Theodore follows.

And neither of them stop you as you walk away.

And that’s what hurts the most. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the story of you, Mattheo, and Theodore truly ends.

[illbegottenfaith]

for the rose and the pearl (a I'm Not That Girl inspired fic)

attending Mattheo's wedding with Theo makes you realise you're not the girl he could truly build a happy life with (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - so my plan to write shorter drabbles backfired spectacularly 😭😭 I'm suchhh a slut for multiple meanings in a theme - I'm not that girl who's just going to cheer you on from the sidelines. I'm not that girl who's pretty/glamorous to be on your arm. IM NOT THAT GIRL WHO STILL KNOWS HOW TO LOVE YOU 😭😭😭😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :)))

tropes/warnings - angst, tw alcohol

word count - 2.6k

taglist - @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife @anikatcmh @starkeyszn @natbat666 @ebriton @shrekstoesblog @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @thaliashifts

True to his word, Theo let you pay for your dress. And yet, a week before the wedding, you receive a charming set of pearls, courtesy of one Mr. Theodore Nott.

"Thin ice," you say to him as a means of greeting at the wedding. He bends down to kiss your cheek in hello, and when he steps back you see him grinning. His gaze flicks down to the pearls around your neck.

"Whatever for?"

After the quick hello, he's almost immediately pulled away again into his best man duties. You drift around, saying hi to a few familiar faces. In fact, you only find him again while exploring the venue.

You spy the groomsmen gathered near the entrance of the reception hall, a loose circle of dark suits and polished shoes, some fixing their cornflower boutonnieres, others already nursing drinks.

Theo stands in the middle of them, one hand in his pocket, looking effortlessly put together with his crisp sky-blue pocket square - that is, except for the small white rose in his hand, still separate from his lapel. He rolls it between his fingers absently, half-listening to whatever joke Enzo is telling.

You know you shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t notice the way it’s just slightly crumpled from where he’s been holding it for too long, fidgeting with it restlessly, like he hasn’t thought to ask for help, like he’s waiting for someone else to step in.

“Here,” you say anyway, stepping forward before you can think better of it.

Theo barely reacts as you pluck the flower out of his slack grip. He only shifts slightly, angling himself toward you, allowing you to close the space between you as you pin it into place.

You focus on the task at hand, on the fine, expensive fabric beneath your fingers, on making sure the flower is positioned just right. You don’t look at him, and if you feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, you don't show it.

But he looks at you.

You feel it - the weight of his gaze, the way he watches you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to be doing this for him, the way you've done it a hundred times before.

And that’s when it appears. That quiet, unwelcome thought.

This isn’t who I am anymore.

Because it’s not just a boutonniere. It’s the way this feels too familiar, too easy - slipping into an old version of yourself, one who smoothed Theo’s collar without thinking, who fixed his tie before he headed out the door, the one who looked after him like it was just second nature.

Years have passed. You thought you had clawed out, escaped, and yet the second he comes running back to you, you’re back here, in his orbit, making sure he looks good for a moment that isn’t even yours.

And the worst part? He anticipates it.

Not in an entitled way. Not because he thinks it’s your job. But because this is how it’s always been. Because he still sees you as that girl. The one who stands beside him, just slightly behind. The one who makes things easier for him. The one who's ready to cheer him on from the sidelines. The one who's agreeable enough to not take up any more space than he could afford.

But that's just it, wasn't it? You weren't ready to give up a life of your own for his. You tolerated it until you started resenting him for it. He hadn't understood it then. He probably didn't understand it now. Either way, it didn't matter. It was too late.

“There.” You finish pinning the boutonniere, stepping away before the moment can stretch too thin.

Theo glances down at it briefly, then back at you. His lips part, like he might say something. But then someone else claps him on the back, congratulating him on something, and just like that, the moment passes.

You slip away, back into the crowd, back into yourself.

You don’t look back.

The wedding is beautiful and the reception is a vivid, lively affair. You run into so many old friends and made so many new ones that you hardly felt the lack of Theo. You rather enjoy the swing band, but now the music is shifting into something slow, sweeping - a song made for moments like this.

Couples drift onto the dance floor, drawn in by the soft pull of violin strings bathed in candlelight. You’re content watching from your seat, half-listening to the slightly obscure conversation at your table until a hand extends into your view.

Theo.

You hadn't seen him since his toast, after which his attention had been demanded by a thousand other people for reasons that had nothing to do with his fame. Even at Hogwarts, people seemed drawn in by his aloof sincerity despite his somewhat reserved demeanour. You didn't mind watching him thrive in his element - you were more than happy in the company of the sparkling liquor at your table and friends-of-friends you'd only heard of.

Now, you blink up at him, a little dazed. Perhaps it would have been wise to stay a little more sober. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a shadow in his dark eyes. A quiet insistence.

“Dance with me.”

It’s not really a question. Your first instinct is to say no, but something in the way he looks at you makes you pause.

So you take his hand.

His palm is warm with a familiar roughness as it guides yours. He leads you onto the dance floor with a practiced ease, slotting a hand against your waist as if this is something you've done a hundred times before. As if this is something you still do.

It shouldn’t feel so effortless. It shouldn’t be this easy, falling into step with him. But it is.

The rest of the room falls away.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence between you isn’t unfamiliar—it’s lived in, worn down by time. But it doesn’t settle the way it used to. There’s something restless underneath, roaming and nervous. You wonder if he can feel it too.

His hand tightens slightly at your waist, the smallest of gestures, but it makes something twist deep in your chest.

“People will talk,” you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else.

He doesn’t even glance around. “Let them.”

Easy for him to say. He more than looks the part of someone meant to be here - sharp suit, easy confidence, the kind of presence that draws attention like gravity. He belongs in ways you can only dream of.

Your dress is simple. Pretty, but not remarkable. Not the kind of thing people would take a second look at. And yet, standing beside him, in the center of the dance floor, you can feel the weight of glances which linger too long.

You know what they see.

A girl in borrowed glamour, playing pretend in someone else’s world. A fleeting guest on the arm of someone who’s only ever been untouchable. They’re probably wondering the same thing you are - why he asked you to dance in the first place.

You draw Theo closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press your cheek into the crook of his neck. Anything to hide your face from him. For the first time in years, you feel inadequate.

“Relax.” You feel Theo's voice vibrate through his chest, low, almost amused, like he can read every thought passing through your mind.

"I am," you rasp. It's an unconvincing sound even to your own ears. Y

ou begin to wish you hadn't agreed to this. It was a stupid reminder of the trophy wife you never knew how to be.Despite what he might think, you hadn't abandoned your relationship at the first sign of strife. You tried - Merlin, you tried - squeezing yourself into a box to make even more room for him. But eventually, you had to accept that you just weren't that girl - the one who was glamorous yet self-fulfilled enough to be seen on his arm.

He imperceptibly slides his hand up your back. “You look fine.”

It’s a throwaway comment, a dismissive sort of reassurance. It shouldn’t matter. And yet, you feel the familiar sting of something old, something buried, something you promised yourself to forget. A part of you missed this, missed him, so here you were, play-acting at being man and wife.

The music swells, and he turns you effortlessly in time with it. You move like muscle memory, feet gliding through the motions without thinking.

Maybe this is why you said yes - because of the way his hand fits against yours, or the way his gaze softens when he thinks you’re not looking. Because the two of you can't help but work this well together.

You exhale, carefully schooling your expression into something even as you pull back to face him. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion.”

Theo’s mouth lifts at the corner—barely a smirk, but there’s something knowing in it. He doesn’t reply.

The song begins to fade, the final notes melting into the hum of the reception. Theo slows to a stop, fingers loosening around yours, and something flickers in his expression. Like he wants to say something. Like he’s looking at you - really looking, as if for the first time.

But then someone calls his name from across the room. His attention flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough. The moment shifts and dissolves.

Tomorrow you'll wake up in a cold, empty bed with aching feet. The both of you will go back to living your separate lives, but each night you'll wonder if tonight was a dream that never really happened.

You step back, slipping out of his hold before he can do it first. Before the silence between you turns into something else.

“Thanks for the dance,” you say lightly, already turning.

You don’t look back to see if he watches you go. And if your hands still feel warm where he held them, well - that’s nobody’s business but yours.

The reception hall is empty now, save for the two of you. The candles have burned low, wax pooling in their gilded holders, and the last of the champagne sits in your glass, its fizz whispering in the quiet. The music stopped a while ago. So did the dancing, the toasts, and the laughter of people whose love doesn’t come with fine print and hidden clauses.

But you’re still here. And so is Theo.

He’s warm beside you, your shoulder tucked into his as he leans back in his chair, one arm slung lazily across the back of yours. The night has left you both a little drunk, a little drowsy, a little too comfortable in each other’s company. Even with the buzz of the drinks, it's getting harder and harder to ignore the chill creeping up your arms. You don’t remember when you started leaning into him, but he hasn’t moved away. You hope he doesn't anytime soon.

He turns his head, eyeing what's left of the extravagantly lavish cake. "Seven tiers, half of which will go uneaten," Theo mutters, voice threaded with amusement. "It is Mattheo's wedding, after all. Why have enough when you can have far too much?"

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head against his shoulder. "Like you're one to talk about...excesses."

Theo gives a long-suffering sigh.

"Is that what you think of me? Excessive?"

"I think," you say in a tone of faux innocence, "you don't want to know what I think of you."

He groans and throws his head back, eliciting a laugh from you. It's a strangely effective balm, this good-natured ribbing, or maybe it's the alcohol. You swirl the last sip of champagne in your glass. The gold catches the light, shimmering against the crystal, and you think—not for the first time tonight—how easy this is. How easy it always was with him.

Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the quiet. Maybe it’s the fact that the wedding is over, and yet you’re still here, wrapped up in Theo like a memory, like you’ve forgotten that you were just supposed to be his date for the night.

"You’re warm," you murmur, shifting slightly to press closer.

He huffs a laugh. "You’re drunk."

"Just tipsy." You look up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. "Big difference."

The alcohol has made your consciousness deliciously blurry. You become aware of the cold, rigid surface of your shoes pressing against your aching feet. In your mind's eye, you see your slippers melting off your feet, clear as glass, dripping diamonds which promise to wound your feet.

But you're still curled up with Theo, perched on some delicate fence between exes or something more, and even now, years on, you know he won't let you fall - he never did and he never would.

If only things were the same with you.

You were no longer the girl who knew how to love Theo the way you once did, wholly and purely. You wished you were. Tears gather under your eyelashes like crystals, heavy with remorse. You wished you knew how. For the love of God, wouldn't someone tell you how?

He watches you for a beat longer than he should.

And then his hand comes up, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. His knuckles ghost over your jaw, then his fingers slip beneath your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You should stop him.

But the champagne is warm in your veins, his bedroom eyes are the worst kind of drug and the way he looks at you—like he still remembers exactly how you take your tea, like he still knows how to make you laugh even when you don’t want to—makes you hesitate just long enough for his lips to brush yours.

It’s not desperate. Not hurried. Just a quiet thing, lingering at the edges of something once lost.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget.

But then the thought creeps in—quiet, insidious.

I’m not that girl.

Not the girl he wants or the girl he needs.

You pull away before the thought can swallow you whole.

Theo blinks, exhaling like he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. It almost sounds like disappointment. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

You don’t resent him for this. Not anymore.

It’s not his fault you still feel the echoes of something that should have faded years ago.

And it’s not your fault that you know better now.

[wordsofelie]

🔭mercury

part of my observatory event, requested by @liquidcatt <3

sugawara koushi x f!reader

summary: you always seem to run into sugawara koushi—your frustratingly charming, unfairly cute neighbour—at the worst times. (but maybe that’s for the best).

content warnings: time skip setting, manga spoilers, a bit of swearing, a lot of fluff

words count: 1.2k

You think the universe is against you.

One moment, you’re carrying a heavy box filled with newly delivered supplies for your office, the next, you’re tipping backwards and losing your balance. There’s a flurry of movement, a surprised gasp—not yours—and then you’re landing on something much softer than the cold, hard ground.

Or, rather, someone.

“Wow,” a voice hisses beneath you. “I wasn’t expecting to be crushed to death today, but I guess there are worse ways to die.”

Your brain short-circuits. Because under you—chest heaving, silver hair slightly tousled, brown eyes gleaming despite having just been nearly flattened—is none other than Sugawara Koushi.

Your neighbour.

The same one you keep running into at the most inconvenient times (when you’re out of toilet paper at the konbini, when you’re all sick with a red nose and dark circles under your eyes at the pharmacy, or when you’re dressed in your least cute pyjamas to pick up your takeout food in the lift). The same one who always greets you with a smile so bright it makes your mind dizzy. The same one who is currently lying beneath you on the ground, blinking up at you like he finds this entire thing oddly hilarious.

You scramble off him, mortified. “Oh my god-I’m so sorry-”

He sits up, rearranging his shirt, still grinning. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I always wanted to know what it felt like to be tackled by someone other than a ten-year-old.”

Right. The kids. Sugawara is a primary school teacher, which explains his infinite patience. And, apparently, his ability to bounce back from near-death experiences with nothing but a smile and a joke.

You shake your hands in panic. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head and getting up. “Although, I think this makes us even.”

“Even?”

He nods and grins even more. “For the time I nearly ran you over with my bike.”

You groan. “I told you that was my fault.”

“I still think about it at night,” he says. “The look of pure horror on your face…”

You roll your eyes, but your heart does something stupidly pleasant in your chest. He’s easy to talk to. Too easy.

“Well-um,” you play with your fingers. “I’ll go now.”

You turn to your door, your skin still warm from him. He’s about to leave as you start patting your pocket, then looking in your bag, and in your pocket again seeking your keys-

Your keys.

Your keys, which had been in your hand a few hours ago. Your fucking keys, which are now nowhere to be found.

“Oh no.” You look around the ground, then groan. “Oh no, no, no.”

Sugawara turns, facing you again, and tilts his head. “That’s a lot of ‘oh no’s. Should I be worried?”

“I left my keys inside the office,” you whine.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Is that how you talk to your students?”

He chuckles. “Sorry, sorry force of habit. Do you want me to go with you?”

You sigh. “No, it’s fine. My boss probably left by now. I’ll figure something out.”

He gives you a long and considering look before sighing. You know it’s not out of annoyance, but more out of sympathy.

His smile shifts slightly—no more teasing grin, but a soft, almost delicate smile. “You can stay at my place, at least until you – figure something out.”

You feel the heat rising in your neck. Somehow, it makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

This is ridiculous. This is absurd.

But if you’re being completely rational, what else can you do? Wait outside (it’s mid-January)? Go to your boss’s place (you have no idea where he lives)?

“Sure,” your voice wavers a little and you clear your throat. “Thank you very much.”

He helps you lift the cardboard that was still on the ground and leads you to his place. Two doors away.

It’s warm inside—which doesn't surprise you. The house isn't as tidy and organised as you'd imagined. There are still unwashed dishes in the kitchen, piles of drawings on the table and coloured pens on the floor.

“Welcome.”

You say nothing back and just look around. He hands you a cup of steaming tea, you hadn't even heard him turn on the kettle.

“Sorry for the mess. I didn’t plan on inviting anyone over tonight.”

“And I didn’t plan on falling on you.”

“And I swear I didn’t plan on almost running you over with my bike last time," he says, sipping his tea. "Unless you find that romantic, in which case I can do it aga-”

“Finish that sentence, and I’m the one who’s gonna run over you.”

Sugawara laughs, bright and clear. “Seems like we always bump into each other in dangerous situations. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

“Oh yeah? And what is it saying?”

He grins. “That you should let me take you on a date.”

There’s electricity running through your whole body.

Sugawara Koushi—your frustratingly charming, unfairly cute neighbour—is asking you out.

“Wait. What? How does that have anything to do with us bumping into each other in dangerous situations?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, maybe that was just an excuse. I just wanted to take you on a date. I must sound so lame, right now.”

You stare at him. He looks nervous, you probably do too.

And then, before you can second-guess yourself, and run away and panic, you chuckle, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go on a date with you. But only for safety measures.”

The man exhales sharply, as if he's been holding his breath for too long.

And then he smiles.

At this moment, you’re convinced Sugawara’s smile is more radiant than a thousand suns. He closes his eyes and you instantly miss their chocolate shade. Deep down, you think you’ll miss them even if he blinks.

“Great! How’s Saturday?”

“Saturday works.”

“Perfect. It’s a date.”

You’re about to say more but your phone rings in your pocket, you check it.

“It’s my boss, he has my keys, he’s waiting at the station.”

He takes the cup from your hand, your fingers brush. “Be careful then. And text me when you’re back home, I’ll bring your box.”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and thank him.

Once you’re outside you can’t stop smiling.

When you go to bed that night, you think the universe isn’t against you anymore.  

Or maybe, just maybe, it had been working in your favour all along.

a/n: that was the first work for the event and i loooved writing for suga!! i should do it more often haha

i hope you enjoyed this story <3

[naomiiiiz]

I’m reading a fanfiction where Agent Stone is unofficially indirectly technically but also definitely adopted by the Wachowski Family and now I cannot unsee it.

For some context, the family is trying to figure out how to get Shadow to come to them without forcing him or making him feel pressured or unwanted, and Agent Stone gets involved.

Maddie invites him to dinner, and what I thought was going to be the best overprotective sons defending their loyal and powerful and loving family banter turned into the crackiest family dinner with an unexpecting, slightly grief ridden and emotionally stunted Agent Stone, desperately trying to wrap his head around the three aliens that have been kicking his ass for who knows how long being in a normal family???

With human parents???

Who like, house them and feed them and love them and teach them and nurture them???

And like, do stuff normal parents do in a normal family???

I’ve never felt so estatic since that one time the author my favorite MHA fantasy AU fanfic that got discontinued posted the endings and notes she had for the rest of the fanfiction.

EXAMPLE WITH DIRECT QUOTE FROM THE CHAPTER:

Tails: “Break started on Saturday. One of us can go with him, Mom! Make sure he stays sitting!”

Stone: “Break?”

Maddie: “Fall break. From school.”

Stone: “They go to school, too?”

Tails, rolling his eyes: “If you’re going to be surprised by every normal thing we do with our family, we’re going to be here all night.”

I read the chapter during my Sociology 100 lecture and had to stop many times to keep from laughing.

Stones astonishment at a normal, stable, healthy, albeit non-traditional family, Sonic being Sonic, Knuckles being Knuckles, Tails continuing to be the national treasure that he is, and Maddie and Tom being the patient, understanding parents that we’ve always seen them be.

You can’t buy joy like this. You can only find it on AO3, from people (mostly children, college students, or working class adults) who either have too much time or no time at all and yet somehow still get to share their genius with the entire world.

Reading this shit felt like getting the found family trope injected into my veins through IVF fluid.

Here’s a DIRECT QUOTE from my favorite part of the newest chapter:

Knuckles: “There will never be a truce, and I will never think of you as anything more than a small, weak man with questionable taste in partners.”

*literally like three fucking minutes later, after Knuckles has been fed a well cooked meal from Agent Stone*

Knuckles: “You are a very important and powerful man, and I apologize for what I said before. Mister Robot did not deserve you!”

Agent Stone, who’s probably sweating in three different places and pinching himself to keep from reacting too harshly, and experiencing the worst whiplash of his life: “Um, thanks?”

To Humanity’s_Humbag and Invader_Sam, who are the authors, I commend and thank you for your service to the Sonic Fandom. May the wicked curses of the Ao3 Fanfiction Author always evade you!

[sokoneedsagun]

Part 7 of batfamily incorrect quotes as things me and my friends have said

“I need to be a freak but in the David Bowie way not the TikTok way” - Dick

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk about men the same way angry women do” - Jason

“I feel like this is going to poison me” *takes a sip* “it tastes like it’s going to poison me” *continues drinking* - Stephanie

“I love the taste of candle wax in the morning” “it’s 5:35 pm and you just ate an airhead” - Robin!Dick and Bruce

*in the raspiest, worst sick morning voice I have ever heard* “jokkeerr” - Bruce.

“remind me to teach you slang” “no” “yeah that’s probably for the best-“ - Stephanie and Bruce

“Time to add to the pile of abandonment issues then” - literally any of them atp.

“well that’s a sentence” “what’s wrong with it?” “huh i wonder what’s wrong with the sentence ‘fuck it sure, do you have a knife?’” - Dick and Tim

“I think one of the haters™️ are here” - Dick

“five minutes ago I was crying about my dad, but now I have coffee so, life goes on you know?” - Tim

“Paranoia is good for you” - Bruce

“Maybe I do understand why I was disowned” - Jason

“this is what our tax dollars go to? tax fraud sounds really good right about now” - Duke

Bonus:

“Literally any time I need to saw trap these gay people” - Riddler (Alternatively maybe joker could work too)

[11queensupreme11]

Giiiiiiirl the sons are so hot, but the ones that look like Poseidon freak me out. I would stay AWAY from the white boys with blonde hair and blue eyes 😭 Didn't you mention that a majority of them would be just as bad as their dad?

YEP. hehehe a lot of the posy kids will be unstable, evil, little incestuous freaks so pls give percy all of your prayers 😭

i don't have all of the lore made up for them yet, but i DO know......

that this kid is the one that i'll probably make as the worst of the kids:

he's gonna be the youngest son, and he'll be the spitting image of poseidon.

for those who don't remember, this character is aiden adams from rekkyo sensen (pls read it 💖) and the whole reason i started reading the manga was solely because of this dude and how much he reminded me of poseidon lol

so yes, out of all the posy kids, he will look the most similar to his father!

BUT you know that cute and sweet uwu personality percy's been using?????? he will have that personality! so he's gonna the nicest, sweetest, and most charming posy kid! percy adores him so much, she's so glad her son's such a good boy! 🥺💖

he obeys his mommy, has great manners, always treats people kindly, he's fascinated by humans and never sneers at the thought of them. he's just a beaming ray of light and hope in the atlantean empire just like his mommy is! people adore him because he's just soooo sweet and nothing at all like his evil father and brothers. he's just so cheerful and innocent 💖

buuuuuuut unfortunately he just uses that personality to get on his mommy's good side 🥺💔 like i said, this kid is possibly the WORST out of his older siblings. he's cute and sweet for his mommy dearest but he's OBSESSED with her 💀 and the worst part is that barely anyone knows. gods like beelzebub and loki could definitely sense his deceit but he's always very careful around them so they're not that suspicious YET.

and his kindness towards humans? that's also just pretend 💔 he thinks they're fascinating yes, but in the way one would be facsinated by their pet. they're just so weak and silly, he doesn't know why his beloved mother treats them like equals, but that's okay. whatever she wants, she gets 💖

oh, and because he's the youngest, he doesn't want his parents to have ANY more kids after him. i think i might center idea in his story for the next fic i make, him just crashing out at the thought of being replaced and doing whatever it takes to make sure he stays as mommy's little boy 🥺

[marauroon]

── .✦ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

sirius is so adamant to prove his hatred for what his family stands for that he ends up becoming them.

sirius black x gn!reader | 3.1k | flangst | masterlist.

CW | slytherin reader, kind of bullying (marauders to reader), lots of arguing, enemies to lovers, slow burn, just general britishness

a/n — the og request was so enthusiastic so i hope this lives up to expectations 🤞

The corridors of Hogwarts are never quiet, always filled with the chatter of students, the rustling of robes, the distant hum of magical portraits gossiping amongst themselves.

You’ve grown used to it, just as you’ve grown used to the way Gryffindors look at you—like you’re something foul stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

It doesn’t bother you, not really.

You’ve learned to wear your green and silver with pride, to ignore the muttered remarks and judgmental glances.

Except for him.

Sirius Black doesn’t just glare. He sneers. He rolls his eyes. He makes a show of stepping aside when you pass, like even sharing the same air as you is offensive.

It would almost be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. If he weren’t so Sirius Black about it—dramatic, unrelenting, determined to make sure you know what he thinks of you.

“Merlin, I think the dungeon stench is getting stronger,” he drawls loudly one afternoon, just as you’re walking past him in the Entrance Hall. James, always eager to stir up trouble, chuckles beside him. “Might need to start carrying something to ward it off. What do you reckon, Moony?”

Remus doesn’t even look up from his book, but Peter snickers anyway.

You don’t hesitate. You stop, arching a brow as you tilt your head just slightly. “If you’re that worried about foul stenches, Black, maybe start with your own ego. Smells rancid from here.”

James whistles lowly, nudging Sirius in the ribs. “You gonna take that, mate?”

Sirius scoffs. “From a Slytherin?” His grey eyes flick over you dismissively, like you’re not worth the energy. “Please,”

It’s always the same with him—cold, cruel, hypocritical. And yet, every time he opens his mouth to throw another insult, all you can think is does he even realise how much he sounds like the very people he claims to hate?

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Sirius is so desperate to prove he’s not like his family that he’s swung in the other direction entirely. His rebellion is as rigid as the ideals he’s rejecting.

The way he sees it, Slytherin equals the worst parts of his family, of the wizarding world, of everything he wants to burn to the ground. And you? You just happen to wear the wrong colours.

Fine. Let him hate you. You can hate him right back.

—

You don’t know what it is about today that makes you snap. Maybe it’s the way Sirius has been especially insufferable. Maybe it’s the way James is laughing at something he’s said, or the way Peter chimes in with a snide little comment of his own. Maybe it’s because Remus, for all his supposed mediation, never actually tells them to stop.

Or maybe it’s just because you’ve had enough.

“Honestly, mate, you’d think they’d at least try to be original,” Sirius muses, staring you down across the library table as you attempt—attempt—to focus on your Transfiguration notes. “But no. Same old pureblood rubbish, same old superiority complex. Must get exhausting,”

It’s not even a direct insult. Not really. Just another offhand remark, the same tired implication that your house defines you, that you must be just like the worst of them.

Something inside you snaps.

The chair scrapes harshly against the floor as you shove it back, standing before you even fully register what you’re doing. The words spill out before you can stop them, sharp and furious and ringing through the library loud enough that even Madame Pince glances over in alarm.

"If you’re so ‘against prejudice,’ then stop assuming that every single bloody green tie you see is the mark of a blood supremacist.”

Sirius freezes.

For the first time, you watch his usual cocky, self-assured expression falter. His lips part, as if reaching for some quick-witted comeback, some clever insult to throw back at you—but nothing comes.

James blinks. Peter’s mouth is slightly open, as though waiting for Sirius to say something. Even Remus looks up from his book now, brow furrowed, sensing something different in the air.

But you don’t wait for a response. You don’t need one.

You shake your head, scoff under your breath, and turn on your heel, leaving them in stunned silence as you march out of the library.

You don’t look back.

—

The words don’t leave Sirius alone. They lodge themselves in his brain, clawing at the edges of his thoughts, forcing their way in when he least expects it.

He tells himself it’s ridiculous. That he was right, that you’re just being defensive because, deep down, you know what Slytherin stands for. That you’re just like them.

…Except, what if you’re not?

The realisation sits uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to like it.

Because if you’re right—if he’s spent all these years hating you for the same kind of blind, sweeping judgements he resents in his own family for—then what does that say about him?

The Marauders notice the shift almost immediately.

“You’re brooding,” James comments, flopping down on the common room sofa beside him. “That’s a Remus thing. You’re not allowed to brood,”

“I’m not brooding,” Sirius mutters.

“You are,” Remus agrees from the armchair, not even looking up from his book. “It’s a bit unsettling, actually,”

Peter squints at him. “Did you two have a duel we don’t know about? Because if they hexed your mouth shut, I think I might actually give them a round of applause,”

Sirius scowls, throwing a cushion at him. “Piss off.”

But later, when he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he still hears your voice.

"Stop assuming."

He hates that you might be right.

And Sirius Black is nothing if not stubborn.

Which is exactly why, the next morning, he decides to prove you wrong.

By being nice.

—

It starts small.

No insults. No remarks. No sneering looks when you pass by in the corridors. He doesn’t trip you in Potions, doesn’t scoff when Slughorn praises you for a well-brewed Draught of Living Death.

You notice, of course. But at first, you just assume he’s lost interest in his usual torment.

Then he starts doing things that make no sense.

Like defending you in conversation.

The first time, you assume you’ve misheard him. Some Gryffindor is mouthing off about Slytherins in the Great Hall—predictable—and you’ve already tuned it out when you hear Sirius scoff.

“You do realise you’re sounding exactly like my mother, right?” he says lazily, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “Or is irony just lost on you?”

The Gryffindor gapes at him. You do, too. Sirius doesn’t even look at you, just shoves another bite of toast into his mouth like he hasn’t just flipped his entire personality on its head.

Then he starts helping.

When Slughorn assigns a partnered essay in Potions, you groan inwardly as Sirius drops into the seat beside you.

"Relax, I’m not gonna hex your parchment," he says dryly, rolling his eyes. And then—worse—he actually pulls his weight.

It’s so painfully obvious that he’s overcompensating. That he’s doing this out of some ridiculous, guilt-driven need to prove a point. And it infuriates you.

Because now—after weeks of treating you like dirt—he suddenly decides to grow a conscience?

After class, you shove your books into your bag with more force than necessary and whirl on him.

“If you’re trying to make up for being an arse, don’t bother,” you snap. “It’s not an apology if you’re only doing it to make yourself feel better.”

Sirius looks taken aback for all of half a second before his jaw tightens. “That’s not—”

But you don’t wait to hear whatever half-baked excuse he’s about to come up with.

You just shake your head and walk away.

Again.

And the worst part?

This time, he actually looks frustrated about it.

—

Sirius doesn’t try to talk to you again for a while after that.

And for a moment, you think—Good. Let him stew in it. Let him realise that you’re not some guilt-induced redemption project. Let him finally get it through his thick skull that you don’t need, nor want, his forced attempts at kindness.

But then something strange happens.

He doesn’t go back to his usual ways. He doesn’t start throwing insults again, doesn’t return to sneering at you in the corridors or loudly making snide remarks whenever you’re in earshot.

Instead, he just… stops trying so hard altogether.

And that’s somehow even more infuriating.

Because now, instead of forced civility or open hostility, Sirius Black simply acts like you’re—normal. Like you’re just another person in the castle, not an enemy, not a cause for guilt, not someone to be proved wrong or right.

It’s unnerving.

You’re used to his usual extremes—hot or cold, cruel or obnoxiously overcompensating—but this new, balanced in-between? It throws you completely off.

And it gets worse.

Because the universe, apparently, hates you.

First, there’s the paired assignments—because of course McGonagall has the bright idea to randomly assign partners for an extensive Transfiguration project, and of course you end up stuck with him.

Then, there’s the detention—because James Potter and Evan Rosier just had to get into a hexing match in the middle of the corridor, and you just had to be in the splash zone when Flitwick rounded the corner. Now you’re forced to scrub cauldrons in the Potions classroom with Sirius Black, of all people.

And then—worst of all—there’s the Astronomy Tower.

It starts as another unfortunate coincidence. You head up to the tower late one night, unable to sleep, hoping for a moment of solitude beneath the stars. But as soon as you push the door open, you see a familiar figure already leaning against the stone railing.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

You could leave. Turn around, pretend you never came up here, avoid another painfully awkward interaction. But Sirius—maybe out of some residual stubbornness, maybe out of something else—just sighs and shifts slightly to the side.

Not enough to make a big deal out of it. Just enough to make room.

And against your better judgement, you take it.

Minutes pass in silence. It’s strange—peaceful, but charged in a way you can’t quite explain.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it, Sirius says, “I never actually thought about it, you know,”

You frown, glancing at him. “Thought about what?”

His gaze stays fixed on the stars, but there’s something distant in it—something tired. “How I treated you,” he admits. “I just—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I was so focused on not being my family, I didn’t stop to think about what that actually meant. I thought hating everything they stood for was enough, but—I ended up doing the same thing, just in a different direction,”

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say.

Because this is different. This isn’t him trying to prove a point. It’s not a dramatic display of guilt or some exaggerated attempt at redemption. It’s just… honest.

You lean against the railing, crossing your arms. “Took you long enough to figure that out,”

He chuckles, and—Merlin help you—you don’t hate the sound of it as much as you should. “Yeah. It did,”

Silence settles between you again, but this time, it’s comfortable.

And somewhere—between detentions and forced partnerships and nights beneath the stars—you start to realise something else.

You don’t hate him anymore.

It happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that you don’t realise it’s happening at all.

One moment, Sirius Black is the boy who made your life miserable. The next, he’s the one you’re arguing with over which essay topic is more interesting in the library. The one who always seems to find himself sitting near you at meals, not with you, but near enough. The one who makes exasperated faces at you in class when someone says something particularly stupid.

And then—one day—he’s the one standing between you and a wand aimed at your chest.

You don’t even see who casts the spell. One second, you’re walking back from Charms; the next, someone shouts “Confringo!” and the air crackles with heat. You barely register what’s happening before a body collides with yours, knocking you out of the way as the spell slams into the stone wall behind you.

When you land, it’s hard, Sirius’s weight pressing you against the ground, shielding you before he rolls off just as quickly. The world tilts for a second before you push yourself up, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Sirius is already on his feet, wand out, furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is sharp, dangerous in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s not his usual bravado—not the arrogant drawl he puts on when taunting someone. It’s real, raw anger.

Whoever cast the spell is already gone, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Your pulse is still racing when you realise he’s turned back to you. “Are you—?” He stops, eyes scanning you quickly for any sign of injury before he shakes his head. “That was—” He cuts himself off again, pressing his lips together, looking angrier than ever.

You exhale sharply, pushing yourself fully upright. “I had it under control.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah? That why you were about to get set on fire?”

You glare at him. “Oh, piss off, Black—”

“I just saved your life—”

“I would’ve been fine—”

You don’t realise how close you are until the argument stops.

You’re both still breathing hard, tension thick between you, too much heat in the air that has nothing to do with the spell. His hand is still half-raised, like he wants to reach for you but thought better of it.

His grey eyes are darker than usual, scanning your face like he’s searching for something—like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to find.

And suddenly, you don’t either.

Your throat feels dry.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Worse—why is he looking at you like that?

You blink first, stepping back, shaking off the moment like it was nothing. “I’m fine,” you mutter, brushing imaginary dust off your robes. “You can stop looking at me like I’m about to drop dead,”

Sirius hesitates. Then, just as quickly, he rolls his shoulders, slipping back into something more familiar—tilting his head, raising a brow, smirking like none of it ever happened. “If you say so,”

But as you turn away, you feel his gaze linger.

And that’s when it really starts.

It’s slow, almost imperceptible at first.

Conversations that used to be sharp and barbed are now laced with something else—something softer, something almost teasing. Your insults have lost their bite; his smirks have stopped feeling like a challenge.

Then, there are the looks.

Stolen glances across classrooms. Raised eyebrows in the Great Hall when someone says something particularly idiotic. That half-smile he gives you when you say something sarcastic under your breath, like you’ve shared some private joke no one else gets.

And the touches.

His knee bumping yours under the table in the library. Fingers brushing when he hands you a quill. The way he slings an arm around James’s shoulders so often that you don’t think much of it when he does the same to you.

Until—one evening—you do.

You’re both where you always seem to end up lately—next to each other at a table, books spread out between you, quills scratching against parchment.

It’s late, and most students have already trickled back to their dorms. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows over Sirius’s face as he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a groan.

You’re half-asleep, scribbling something about Vanishing Spells when you feel it—his fingers, barely there, skimming against your wrist.

It’s absentminded, thoughtless. But he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

You should.

You really should.

But all you can think about is that moment in the corridor. The way he looked at you. The way you looked back.

“This is stupid,” he mutters.

“You’re stupid,” you reply automatically, not even looking up from your notes.

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Brilliant comeback,”

“Thanks,” You flip a page. “Took me ages to come up with it,”

There’s a pause. Not an awkward one—just the kind that’s started to feel normal between you. Easy.

Then Sirius shifts, resting his arms on the table, fingers tapping idly against the wood. “You know,” he says, voice quieter now, more thoughtful, “I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

You freeze.

Slowly, carefully, you lift your gaze from your book. Sirius isn’t smirking, isn’t making a joke of it. He’s just looking at you—calm, steady, like he’s only just realising it himself.

Your throat feels weirdly tight. You swallow. “Oh?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why your heart is suddenly beating too fast.

You could joke about it. Could roll your eyes, make some sarcastic remark about how long it’s taken him. Could pretend like this moment doesn’t feel like the ground shifting beneath you.

But you don’t.

Instead, after a moment, you nod back.

“I don’t think I hate you either.”

It’s quiet. Undramatic. But as Sirius’s mouth quirks up—just slightly, just enough—you realise it’s the most important thing you’ve said in a long time.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: 5 Times Marshall Made You Jealous (+1 Time You Made Him Jealous)

1. The Time with the Interviewer

Marshall had always been charming in interviews, but this one? This one was testing your patience.

The interviewer—a stunning woman with legs for days—was laughing a little too hard at his jokes, touching his arm a little too often. And Marshall? He wasn’t exactly pushing her away.

You sat off to the side, arms crossed, tapping your foot. When he finally wrapped up and walked over, grinning like he hadn’t just been flirting on live TV, you gave him a pointed look.

“What?” he asked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. “Nothing.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You jealous?”

“No,” you lied.

“You so are,” he teased, kissing your temple. And, damn it, you let him win.

2. The Time He Took a Fan Pic a Little Too Close

You loved how much he appreciated his fans. But when a gorgeous woman wrapped her arms around him, leaning into him like she belonged there while he smiled like he wasn’t even thinking about it? Yeah, that stung a little.

The worst part? You saw the picture on Twitter before he even mentioned it.

“So, anything you wanna tell me?” you asked later, holding up your phone.

He glanced at the screen, then at you, before sighing. “It was just a picture.”

“She was all over you, Marshall.”

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you. “I didn’t even notice. The only person I care about is you.”

Damn it. He always knew exactly what to say.

3. The Time with Rihanna

You trusted Marshall. You did. But watching him perform with Rihanna? Watching them vibe on stage, their chemistry so effortless? That messed with your head a little.

You didn’t say anything at first. But later that night, he caught you staring at your drink, jaw tight.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

He raised a brow. “This isn’t about the performance, is it?”

You scoffed. “No.”

He grinned. “You sure?”

“…Shut up.”

Marshall just laughed, pulling you into him. “You’re the only one I want, you know that?”

You did. But it still felt good to hear.

4. The Time His Ex Called

Marshall rarely talked about his exes, which was fine by you. But when one of them called out of nowhere, your stomach twisted.

He answered, his voice neutral, but you couldn’t help but listen in. She was laughing, reminiscing, and while he wasn’t exactly feeding into it, he wasn’t shutting it down either.

When he hung up, you raised an eyebrow. “So, we’re taking calls from exes now?”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

He stepped closer, tilting your chin up. “You seriously think I’d ever go back to that?”

You sighed. “No.”

“Then c’mere,” he murmured, pulling you into a slow, lingering kiss.

Fine. You’d let it slide. This time.

5. The Time He Got a Little Too Cozy with a Music Video Model

Marshall had warned you about the video shoot. Said it was all acting, that you had nothing to worry about. But watching him with his hands on some model’s waist, his lips way too close to hers? Yeah, that was pushing it.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just went quiet.

He noticed.

“You mad?” he asked later, sliding onto the couch beside you.

“No.”

“Liar.”

You shot him a glare. “I know it’s just work, but did you have to look at her like that?”

He smirked. “What, like this?” He gave you the same sultry look from the video, and you groaned, shoving his face away.

“I hate you.”

��No, you don’t,” he said, kissing your cheek. “C’mon, baby. You know it’s only you.”

Damn it. He was way too good at this.

+1. The Time You Made Him Jealous

It happened completely by accident.

You were out with some mutual friends, and one of the guys—a friend of a friend—was making you laugh. You weren’t even flirting, but Marshall? He was glowering from across the room, his jaw tight, his grip on his drink almost painful.

When you caught his stare, you smirked.

He narrowed his eyes. Two could play this game.

Later, as soon as you were alone, he caged you against the wall, his hands gripping your waist. “You think that’s funny?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes darkened. “Oh, you know.”

Then he kissed you—hard, possessive, like he had something to prove.

Not that you were complaining.

[lsunstreakerl]

HEEEEEY: this is a 500 word snippet of the kidnapping. it's the kind of the worst of the darkbull verse so far, so like. look out for yourself first and all that. Max POV.

Max is groggy, head spinning as he tries to blink his eyes open. Everything is heavy and weird, kaleidoscope colors behind his eyelids, and he feels clumsy and uncoordinated- can't get his limbs to respond.

Everything filters in slowly. His mouth is dry, and he can't feel his arms or legs. He thinks he's lying flat on his back, a mattress underneath him, and there's a heavy weight settled across his waist, pinning him in place.

He turns his head slightly to the side with a soft groan, trying to lick at his lips and get some moisture back.

There's a noise from above him before a hand cradles his jaw, gently pushing his head back where he was.

"Oh, mon chaton, you do not want to be awake yet."

Max fights through the haze in his brain, trying to match the voice to a face. It's difficult- he feels like he's brushing aside cobwebs, thinking slowly and still losing track.

Charles.

"'les?"

It's slurred and slow, and his eyes still won't cooperate with him, spinning every time he tries to open them.

Charles coos at him from somewhere above him.

"Yes baby. Go back to sleep."

Some part of Max tucked deep into his brain is pinging at him, trying to tell him something is wrong, but he can't place it- can barely think.

He tries to move, shoulders flexing briefly, and he's confused for a moment-

His left arm is being held above him, secure where he can't even shift it. There's fabric wrapped around his bicep, elbow, wrist, and fingers, keeping them wrapped around cool metal. It must be some kind of headboard.

He can't move his right arm at all- it simply doesn't respond, even when he tries.

There's a tutting noise above him before Charles' fingers tap the side of his face, chastising.

"None of that. I want you to be able to drive, so keep still, yes?"

Max opens his mouth to argue, but all that comes out is another groan.

His head drops to his right, and he can't quite piece together what he's seeing. Everything is a slow blurry haze, nothing makes sense.

Charles is holding his right wrist carefully in one hand, while the other has a pair of forceps. Max's wrist looks weird- there's red paint on Charles' hands, dripping off of Max's fingers and sliding down his forearm, and it almost looks like the forceps are going into him- but that can't be right.

Charles sighs, short and sharp, and Max can tell he's irritated as he sets the forceps back down.

"Chaton. I told you not to look."

Charles' hand comes back up to Max's face, roughly turning him away from the mess. Max's face feels wet where his fingers are gripping him.

When Charles lets go, Max keeps his head in place.

"Good boy, thank you. That's much better."

Max feels a bit cold. Something still isn't right, but he can't-

He can't think.

Charles is humming something above him, and it joins the slow sludge of Max's brain, an unsettlingly jaunty soundtrack to the way Max can't even make his tongue work properly.

He doesn't know what's going on, doesn't even remember what he was doing before he woke up like this.

Out with Redbull? No, surely not- Redbull doesn't like Charles, they'd been making that abundantly clear the last few weeks.

He tries to swallow, a dry slide of his throat.

He wants to go home.

[jjkarmy091]

The Boyfriend Game - Jungkook (part 2)

-> synopsis: You never thought that fighting for a position in JV's team would end up with you falling for the guy who was helping you out with it, especially since he had the same rule as you: no date, no romance, just socceer

> pairing: Soccer playerJungkook x (f) reader

> genre: romance, strangers to friends to lovers; angst; fluff

> word count: 10.230

JV practice Thursday was the worst practice I’d ever had. I was so nervous about my upcoming not-a-date date with Jungkook to watch the soccer game that I couldn’t concentrate. Of course, it didn’t help that Jennie had told Sana  and they were both harassing me the entire  practice about how cute Jungkook was and how much we liked each other and why didn’t I simply make a move. Even when I headed the ball into Jennie’s face, she didn’t shut up. 

And then practice was over. Jennie and Sana forced me to blow dry my hair and put on makeup after practice. Then I was in the truck with Jungkook and his brother. 

When I realized we were alone in his basement, with a pizza and a couple of sodas on the coffee table. I stood in the doorway, not quite able to make myself walk into the room. Jungkook stood in front of the couch, fiddling with the remote control. He was wearing jeans and boots, and he had a shirt on with a faded red oxford shirt, unbuttoned. His sleeves were rolled up to the point I coud see some of his tattoos and he looked casual, but cute.  

Really, really cute. 

It wasn’t just Sana and Jennie trying to convince me. He was a hottie, and I knew it. He finally found the soccer game, turned up the volume, and looked over at me, his eyebrows going up in surprise when he saw me still standing by the door.  

“What are you doing over there?” 

“Um, just hanging out.” He tossed the remote onto the coffee table. “Well it’s kind of a long game to hang over there the whole time.” He eased down onto the overstuffed denim cushions. 

“Yeah, well, I’m comfortable.” Not that much but I didn’t know where to sit. Next to him? On the couch? No, it might make him think I liked him and he’d bail on me. In one of the armchairs? But it might make him think I liked him and was pretending not to and he’d bail on me. Stand, I’d stand. Then he could just think I was whacked and that would be much better. 

He opened the pizza box and I watched the steam rise from the cheese and caught a whiff of the bread and the tomato sauce. He pulled a piece free and I watched the cheese stretch and stretch . . . then he slid his finger through the cheese and broke the strand and plopped the string of cheese on top of his slice. He set it down on a plate next to him on the coffee table and looked at me. 

“I’m not bringing it over to you.” Oh, wow. He wanted me to sit next to him on the couch. Did that mean he liked me?  Damn it Y/n, stop it! Of course not! Get a grip! 

“Is this how you treat all your guests? Forcing them to eat at the table? So rude.” I managed to keep a light tone in my voice as I forced myself to walk into the room and I eased myself down onto the couch, a mere two feet from him. We were less than twenty-four inches apart!  Oh, sure, we’d been much closer so many times on the soccer field, like when we were going one-on-one and bumping into each other and shoving ourselves off each other with our hands, but I’d never noticed it, at least not like I was noticing it now. 

Jungkook served up a couple of pieces for himself, shut the lid, and turned up the volume. “I’m so psyched for this game. New England just traded for a new forward who’s awesome. Tonight’s his first start.” 

“Super.” Obviously, Jungkook wasn’t feeling the same buzz from sitting so close to me. Stupid Jennie for making me think of him as a guy! I was so going to kill her when I saw her tomorrow.   

I managed an awkward smile and grabbed my pizza. The tip of the slice dipped downward and a hunk of cheese slipped off the end before I could catch it. It landed with a splat on Jungkook’s foot. We both looked down as it slowly slid off the toe of his boot and down the side, coming to a peaceful stop wedged in the off white carpet fi bers of his basement rug. Yeah, I was such the graceful girly girl. Sigh. 

“Want it back?” Jungkook asked. I giggled. 

“No, you can have it.” 

“Excellent. I was hoping to add a little carpet fuzz to my pizza.” He reached down and picked up the piece, inspected it for a minute, then popped it into his mouth. 

“That’s so gross!” I burst out laughing as he proceeded to chew it, wrinkling his nose like he’d bitten into something horrid.  

“You aren’t really going to eat that!” He swallowed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Of course I ate it. It’s just carpet fuzz.” I laughed.  

“You’re disgusting.” Then I sighed as I blew on my pizza before taking another bite. He so wasn’t making the moves on me. No guy trying to impress a girl would eat carpet-fuzz pizza. It was too gross. Like I’d want him to kiss me when he had just eaten dirt . . . Oh, wait. No, no no. There’s no way I’d just put “Jungkook” and “kiss me” in the same sentence- I was such an idiot! How could I be stupid enough to like him? Not like him, but like him? I mean, he hung out with me because I wasn’t into guys. It would be a total violation of our code of friendship if I started to like him!  

I didn’t like him... Did I? I had to know. I subtly peeked at him. He was leaning forward, watching the television, his hair all spiky, his forearms resting on his thighs. He glanced at me, winked, and my belly jumped in response even though he turned right back to the television. No guy had ever made my belly flip before, not like that. There was no way to deny it. 

I liked Jungkook. He let out a whoop and slapped his hands on his thighs. 

“Did you see that play? We have got to practice that!” He turned to me and his smile slowly faded. All at once he had a really wary look on his face, almost like he was afraid of me. It was the same look I’d seen on his face when he’d seen Winter coming after him at the football game. I’d become another Winter. Shit! 

“Y/n?” His voice was cautious and a little strained. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Oh, God, he could tell. How could he not? I’d been staring at him for, like, five minutes, thinking about him kissing me. Think of a reason, Y/n ! But all I could think about was how cute he looked with his brow all furrowed. 

“Um . . .” He cleared his throat and stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.” Then he vaulted over the back of the couch and sprinted up the stairs, three at a time. It was the fastest I’d ever seen him move, all because he was running away from me. Argh! This was horrible! I yanked out my cell phone and dialed Sana. She answered on the first ring. 

“How’s the date?” 

“Horrible!” I filled her in on what happened, whispering as fast as I could, watching the stairs and listening for Jungkook to come back.  

“What should Ido? He’s going to pull the plug on soccer, I know it!” 

“Hang on.” I heard her and Jennie talking but their voices were muffled, like she’d covered the phone. 

“Hurry up,” I hissed. Finally, Sana came back on. 

“You have to go into Emergency Recovery Mode.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Give him a good reason for the strange look on your face, then talk soccer. Big time. Make him think he misread it. We’ll do damage control when we meet up tomorrow. Got it?”  

The door to the basement opened and I slammed my phone shut and shoved it in my pocket. I wiped my palms on my jeans as Jungkook walked down the stairs, a whole lot slower than he’d gone up. God, this was so embarrassing. I took a deep breath, then flopped back on the couch. 

“Did you bring ice?” He looked at me and paused on the stairs. “Ice? Why?” 

“I burned the roof of my mouth on the cheese. It’s killing me.” I rolled my eyes.  

“Sorry I wigged you out a second ago. I was trying to assess the damage to see whether I needed to go to the emergency room plus I was trying to figure out how to blame you for it. Not that it worked.” I forced a giggle. 

“I’m the only idiot around here, and unless you’ve got ice, I think you need to call an ambulance.” 

“My fault? Not even.” Some of the tension left his shoulders and he resumed walking toward me, hopping over the bottom step.  

“The soda’s cold. Will that work?” 

“Yeah, good idea.” I grabbed a can of Diet Coke and flicked it open. “So do you have paper and a pen? I want to take some notes tonight.” I took a gulp. He looked surprised.  

“Really?” 

“Are you kidding?” I injected an impressive amount of excitement into my voice and set the can back on the table.  

“I’m so pumped for this and I don’t want to miss anything.” I clenched my fists and didn’t have to fake my determination.  

“I’m going to make varsity, Jungkook. No matter what.” He finally gave me a real smile.  

“You bet you will.” I nodded. 

“Now that we’ve both acknowledged how I’m always right, stop talking so I can concentrate on the game.” I rolled my eyes. “Boys just talk and talk, never shut up. How’s a girl supposed to watch a game, huh?” He laughed and leaned back against the couch and I could tell that things were right between us again. Or as right as they could be, given that I now realized I liked him, and I could never, ever, EVER admit that.  

Next morning Jennie was checking her makeup in a compact, and Sana was munching on a bagel. They both jumped to their feet when they saw me climb out of my mom’s car. I’d been so miserable this morning that my mom had offered to drive me the short distance to school when she couldn’t convince me to tell her what was wrong. As if this were the kind of thing I was going to tell her! 

“You look awful,” Jennie exclaimed as I walked up. “Are you sick?” 

“No, but thanks for making me feel better.” I hadn’t slept all night, I was freaking out and I didn’t know what to do. 

“Sit, sit.” Jennie shoved me onto the steps and opened her makeup bag. “You are in desperate need of concealer, my friend. You talk, I’ll fix.” It was too much effort to keep her off me so I gave in while Sana plopped herself next to me, munching away. 

“So? What happened?” 

“Look up,” my personal makeup artist ordered. I inspected the sky so Jennie could massage the concealer into the black pits beneath my eyes as I filled them in on how the evening had worked out. I kept my voice low, so all the kids fi ing into the school wouldn’t hear what I was talking about, not that they cared. It seemed like everyone else was loud and laughing and in a grand mood. 

“So, that’s good, then, right?” Sana asked. 

“No.” 

“Why not? You got him back on track, right? You guys are back to the ‘we don’t notice the opposite sex’ thing and all?” 

“She’s upset because she still likes him,” Jennie said. “Close your eyes.” I closed them, then winced as I felt something hard on my eyelid. “Tell me you’re not putting eyeliner on me.” 

“Oh, shush. It’s about time you started wearing makeup. How else is Jungkook going to realize that he likes you?” My eyes snapped open, and Jennie nearly poked my eye out.  

“Y/n! Don’t do that!” 

“What did you just say about Jungkook liking me?” 

Jennie set her hands on her hips. “Oh, you look great now,” she complained. “Nothing like a streak of eyeliner up into your eyebrow to make the boys fall for you.” 

“Jennie!” I grabbed the eyeliner out of her hand and held it between my two fists. “I’m going to break this in half if you don’t tell me.” 

“No! It’s my favorite!” She lunged for it and I jerked it out of her reach. “Talk, girl.” 

“Fine.” She pulled out a hairbrush and ran it through her hair. “All I meant was that it’s obvious he likes you, but he just doesn’t realize it yet. You know, because he’s all anti girl and stuff, it’ll take time for him to realize it so by making you look like a girl maybe he’ll notice that you are one.”  

She fluffed out her hair. “Clearly, having you make googly eyes at him is not the way to approach this.” She tossed the brush back in her make up bag, then held out her hand. 

“Give the eyeliner back so I can finish making you look halfway decent.” 

“Googly eyes?” I slapped the eyeliner back into her hand.  

“I didn’t make googly eyes! I was spacing out! Big difference!” 

“Not to a guy,” Jennie said. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I give you permission.” I did as she instructed and tried to calm down.  

“Jungkook doesn’t like me.” 

“Give it up, Y/n,” Sana said. “Jennie’s the guy expert. If she says he likes you, then he does.” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to tell Jimin you like him,” I blurted out. I instantly felt bad, but I couldn’t take one more minute of them telling me  Jungkook liked me when I knew he didn’t. I knew it down deep in that black lump of tar in my gut. 

“Fine. Be that way,” Sana said. 

I felt Jennie rubbing on my brow, no doubt trying to erase the random streaks across my face.  

“So if you refuse my help in getting him to notice you’re a girl, what do you want from us?” she asked. 

“It’s your fault I started liking him, because you both kept talking about how hot he was, so you have to undo it. Make me not like him.” That was the best plan I’d been able to come up with during my sleepless night. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from liking him, so it was their problem to fix. They didn’t reply, but I could hear them whispering. 

“Hello? Didn’t you hear me? Fix it.” I wanted to open my eyes so badly because I had a feeling they were having a silent discussion, but I didn’t want to sit there at Jennie’s mercy any longer than I had to. No need to drag it out by forcing another misguided streak of eyeliner. “Guys?” 

“All done.” I opened my eyes as Jennie stepped back. She grinned. “Nice.” 

Anything that was “nice” to her meant I needed to find a mirror as soon as possible to make sure she hadn’t made me look like a clown. Sana stood up and moved next to Jennie, wrinkling her nose as she peered at me.  

“Well, that was stupid.” Jennie and I both looked at her. “It doesn’t look good?” I knew it! 

“You look amazing,” Sana said. I raised my brows at Jennie, and she shrugged.  

“So why was that stupid?” Sana shot Jennie a look of pity. “Because you like Taehyung. You were just starting to make progress with him and now you go and make Y/n look even better than she does already?” 

I immediately frowned. “I don’t want Taehyung. I don’t want any guys. I just want to play soccer!” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sana said. “Tae won’t notice Jennie unless you’re out of the picture. Not with you looking like that.” 

Jennie and I looked at each other and she shook her head. “No, because Y/n likes Jungkook. You’ll tell Tae tonight at Pop’s, won’t you? That you like Jungkook?” 

“No way! What if it got back to Jungkook?” I got cold at the thought. “He’d stop practicing with me in a heartbeat.” And I needed him in my life for soccer, even if there was nothing else. Besides, as a friend, he made me feel good and I wasn’t willing to give that up.  

To keep him as a friend, I would get over the fact I liked him. I shivered. Just thinking those words made me get all wigged out. I liked Jungkook... How stupid was I?  Jennie’s mouth tightened and her eyes got cool.

“You won’t do it for me?” 

“It’s not like that,” I said. “I just, well, if you’d seen the look on Jungkook’s face last night . . .” She held up her hand to silence me. “Forget it. I understand. You’ll put soccer over me, your best friend.” I jumped up. 

“No, I’m not! This is your fault, anyway! If you hadn’t convinced me that I liked Jungkook and made him go all wacky on me last night, maybe I could pull off a lie to Taehyung and then explain to Jungkook I was saying I like him just to help you out, but you already messed that up and he’d never believe me, so it’s your fault I can’t do it! Besides, it’s not like I’m doing anything to try to get Taehyung to like me, so don’t be mad at me!” 

Sana cleared her throat and moved between us. “Okay, you guys, chill out.” 

“I disinvite you tonight,” Jennie said. “Don’t come. You’ll just mess things up with me and him.” 

“I don’t want to go, anyway! You think it’s fun for me to sit there and watch you making an idiot of yourself over him?” Sana winced.

“Y/n—” 

“An idiot?” Jennie gasped. “I’m an idiot? What does that mean?”  

“Because you get all flirty and ditzy and weird! Did you even consider that maybe the reason Taehyung likes me is because I’m normal around him? You fondle his coat and get all girly on him. Why don’t you try being normal? Maybe he’d like you then!” 

Her face twisted. “I am normal!” 

“Not when you’re around him” I said. “I don’t even like you when you’re like that. And neither does Sana.” Jennie sucked in her breath, her eyes wide with shock. 

“What?” 

“She didn’t mean that,” Sana interrupted. “We both love you.” she glared at me. “Take it back, Y/n.” 

“Too late,” Jennie hissed. “I’m out of here.” Then she shoved her makeup kit in her backpack. “Don’t come tonight.” She turned away, ran up the steps and let the doors slam shut behind her. 

I bit my lip and suddenly felt like crying. How had that happened? I hadn’t meant to say that, but it had slipped out. But she’d made me so mad! It was her fault I was in the mess with Jungkook ham and all she wanted to do was make it worse by having me start rumors that I was dating Jungkook. 

Sana picked up her backpack, her face tight. “Well, now I have to go convince her that I don’t think she’s an idiot around him. How could you say that? Like she’s not already nervous enough around him, without you telling her that?” 

“But it’s true. If she acts the way she normally does, Kirk might like her. I was just trying to help. . . .” 

“Well, don’t try to help, then.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and ran into the school, leaving me out on the steps. I bit my lip and sat back down. I should go after them, but I didn’t dare. I was so upset, I had a feeling I would just make things worse. I mean, how else could I screw up things with the only people in my life I cared about? 

This is why I liked soccer. It was about the ball. About sweat. Not about all this other stuff that was so confusing. I mean, I was just trying to get things right and now everyone was mad at me! 

I sat there by myself, watching kids walk into the school, all chatting and happy, until the first bell rang and I had to go in. By the time I started up the stairs I’d realized that due to Jennie and Sana being mad at me and Jungkook being afraid of me for the first time ever, I didn’t want to go to soccer practice this afternoon. And that was the worst part of all. 

That evening, at seven o’clock, I was sitting on our family room couch, wrapped up in a pink bunny comforter I’d found at the bottom of my closet. I’d left my soccer ball one on my bed. After my terrible practice, with Jennie refusing to talk to me and Sana being all uncomfortable between us, I’d wanted nothing more to do with soccer so I told Jungkook I was feeling sick and I bailed. 

Although he’d expressed a little concern that I wasn’t permanently disabled from my bout with the pizza cheese, he hadn’t seemed particularly bummed that I was ditching soccer with him, which made me feel worse, so I’d come home, taken a package of Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies out of the kitchen cabinet, and settled on the couch with my remote at five o’clock. And now, two hours later, I still wasn’t feeling any better. 

“Y/n?” I muted That ’70s Show and looked up at my mom. 

“You need me to set the table?”  

“No, actually, I wanted to talk.” 

“Oh.” I sighed and tossed the remote on my lap.  

“It’s about Dad, right? You’re worried that I’m going to develop some sort of complex because he never keeps our Friday night date?” I thought of Jungkook’s explanation about my dad just being busy, and felt better about my dad, and worse because it made me think of him.  

“I’m fine with it.” My mom was still wearing her gray pantsuit from work at the law firm, but that didn’t stop her from climbing onto the couch with me and sliding under the comforter, like we used to do before I got too busy with soccer and she got too busy doing the single mom thing. 

 “What’chya watching?” she asked.  

“Reruns.”  

“Fun way to spend a Friday night.” I snorted.  

“Yeah, wicked fun.” She put her arm around me and pulled me next to her. 

“So, if it’s not fun, why aren’t you doing something more fun? I haven’t seen much of Jennie and Sana lately.” I bit my lip and said nothing. What was there to say?  

Instead, I snuggled against her and rested my head on her shoulder. I know, totally babyish, but I couldn’t help it. I needed my mom right then. I needed someone who wasn’t mad at me. 

“How’s the extra practice going? Is your game improving?” My throat tightened up.  

“I guess.” She was quiet for a moment, drumming her fingers on the top of my head. 

“So, how was the game last night? With Jungkook?” 

“I burned the roof of my mouth and accidentally dropped pizza on his carpet.” I felt her smile. 

“Well done, Y/n. There’s nothing like making a mess to impress a guy.” 

“But I wasn’t trying to impress him!” I wailed. “I don’t want to like him! I just want it to be like it used to be, before Jennie messed everything up!” 

“How did she mess everything up?” Her voice was so calm that I couldn’t hold back anymore, and the whole story came pouring out. Everything.  

“So now Jennie and Sana hate me and I can’t go to Pop’s with them tonight, even if I wanted to, which I don’t, but I can’t and—” I paused to blow my nose in the fiftieth tissue I’d used since I started talking. “And I didn’t even go to practice and he didn’t even care!” I started to cry again and my mom hugged me. 

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong. . . .” I pushed off her and blew my nose again. “But Jennie’s still mad. It’s not my fault Taeyung likes me.” She smiled and fl uffed my bangs. 

“True, but that doesn’t make it any easier for her.”  

“She should get over it, shouldn’t she? Apologize?”  

“First I have a question for you.” I sat up and wrinkled my nose at her. “I’m not going to like it, am I?” She smiled.  “You feel bad because you like Jungkook and he doesn’t like you  back, right?” I picked a fuzz ball off my faded comforter. 

“Maybe.”  

“So, that’s how she feels with Taehyung. She likes him, but he doesn’t like her back. She feels exactly like you feel with Jungkook, except it’s worse because her best friend is the reason he won’t like her.” She cocked her head. 

“How would you feel if you found out that Jungkook liked Sana?” 

 “I’d hate her.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I made a face. But my mom just smiled.  

“See how she feels now?”I guess I did.  

“But if I go in there and tell Taehyung I like Jungkook, then . . .” She shook her head.  

“No, don’t do that. Just go in there tonight and tell him the truth. That you’re not interested in him as a guy.” 

“But I already told him that. . . .” 

“Make him understand you mean it.” I groaned.  

“How? He’s totally thick.” She played with my hair.  

“Maybe tell him to look in Jennie’s direction. Couldn’t hurt, right? And then you could coach her on how to be herself when she’s around him.” I wrinkled my nose.  

“Why should I? She ruined my life by making me like Jungkook.” My mom arched an eyebrow. “I think you did that all by yourself Y/n. And only you can fix it.” 

“Tell me how and I’ll do it.” Anything to stop me from liking him and screwing up the one good thing in my life. 

“Find someone else to like.” 

“Mom!” I wailed. “But I don’t want to like boys!” She smiled and ruffl ed my hair.  

“Oh, kiddo, I think it’s too late for that. You’re in the ball game now. It’s up to you to take control.” I pulled the comforter over my face.  

“I can’t.” She pulled it back down.  

“At the very least, you can get your fanny over to Pop’s and help her out. She’s your friend, and you should never let a boy come between you and your friends. Girls have to stick together. It’s the only way to survive boys.” 

“What if Jungkook’s there? He might be there on a Friday night. What am I supposed to do then?” She smiled and flipped the comforter off both of us, then stood up.  

“You’ll talk soccer and let the rest go. Be yourself. Things will work out.” I frowned at her.  

“Things will work out? That’s all the advice you have?”  

“It’s great advice.” She laughed. “Now get up and let’s go fi nd something for you to wear that’ll knock Junkook’s socks off if he happens to be there.” 

“But I don’t want to knock his socks off! And that’s a totally lame expression, by the way.” But a little part of me liked the idea. I mean, would it be so bad if he thought I was cute? If he noticed that I cleaned up okay? 

“All the more reason to do it.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet.  

“There’s a reason I always look nice when I go to work.” I kept a scowl on my face while she hustled me upstairs.  

“Because you’ll get fi red if you look like a slob?”  

“Because, my little grouch, it makes me feel better on the inside if I like how I look on the outside.” She gently shoved me into the bathroom. “Get in there, wash your hair, and I’ll pick out some clothes. We’re going to make you look like the girl you are, underneath all that sweat and dirt.” 

“I like dirt,” I protested, even as I tugged my sweatshirt over my head  

“Of course you do. And you’re welcome to roll around in the yard after we finish cleaning you up.” My mom pulled the door shut.  

“Promise?” I turned on the shower and shucked the rest of my clothes. “Because I will, you know.” 

“Oh, I know,” she called out from the direction of my bedroom, where I could hear her pulling open my drawers, looking for my outfit for the night. I grinned.  My mom always looked awesome, and if she got on my ase for tonight . Well . . . I almost hoped Jungkook would be there. 

At seven fifty five my mom was done with my makeover. We stood next to each other and studied my outfit in my bedroom mirror.  Low-rider jeans, uggs and a V neck top that was sort of fitted. Not tight but not hugely baggy, either. I’d bought the shirt a year ago when I was out with Jennie and Sana and I’d never worn it. It was simply too girly. 

I’d bought it only because they’d made me, but my mom insisted, and she’d done my hair and my makeup and even let me borrow her diamond pendant. She smiled as she tucked a strategically dangling ten-dril of hair behind my ear.  

“I must say, I’m very impressed with myself.” 

“I’m going to go roll in the dirt as soon as I’m outside.” My heart thudded as I inspected myself. For the first time in my life, I looked like a girl. And you know what? I loved it. I absolutely adored how I looked. My mom’s smile widened.  

“Why don’t I believe you?”  

“I can’t go into Pop’s like this.” I took a deep breath and tried to slow my racing heart. God, could I really do this? Walk in there looking so . . . female?  

“Sure you can. You’ll have a blast.” She held out a little navy purse with embroidery on it. “Just bought this. You can use it.”  It looked just like the purse Miley Cyrus was carrying in the latest issue of Teen People. I grabbed it from my mom.

“You’re the best!” 

“I know.” She hugged me, and we were both careful not to mess up my outfit. “Go have fun, okay? Just make sure that you help out Jennie too.” I nodded, still looking at myself in the mirror. 

 My new haircut looked great, with the layers falling over my face and the highlights shining in the light. 

“Ah, my little girl.” My mom brushed my cheek with the back of her hand.  “How did you get so smart?” I stood taller.  

“I’m not your little girl.” She cocked her head.  

“No, I suppose you’re not.” For a oment, she almost looked sad, then she cleared her throat. “Do you want a ride?”  

“And have my mom drop me off?” I teased. “No way. I’ll walk.” She nodded, her eyes bright.  

“I figured you would. Keep your phone on, in case I need to reach you.” 

“Always.” That was the condition of the phone, and I wasn’t about to blow it. “I’m out of here.” I hesitated, then threw my arms around her. “Thanks, Mom!”  

“Anytime, sweets.” Then I let go of her and ran down the stairs. To go to Pop’s. Looking like a girl for the first time ever. 

I walked into Pop’s at ten after eight and nearly turned around and walked right back out when I saw how many kids were there. The place was packed, music was roaring, and there didn’t seem to be an empty seat. So many kids I knew, so many I didn’t.  

There were tables of girls giggling and laughing, tables of guys being loud, and tables of girls and guys hanging out. I suddenly felt completely out of my comfort zone. I hadn’t been to Pop’s on a Friday night in ages and now I remembered why. This wasn’t my scene.  

 At all. 

Especially without Jennie and Sana to back me. Where were they? I looked around but didn’t see them. If they weren’t here, I was so going to leave. . . 

“Y/n!” I jerked my gaze to the right, and saw Taehyung waving at me. He had one of the big booths by the window, by himself. Relief surged through me at the sight of someone I knew, even if it was Kim Taehyung. I pushed my way through the throng of kids.  

“Hey.” He grinned as I slid in opposite him. “I got here early to snag a table.” His gaze went to my hair and I suddenly got nervous. 

“Hi.” I fiddled with a few strands, wishing I’d put it in a ponytail. What had I been thinking letting my mom blow it dry? 

“You look cute.” He sounded surprised. I frowned.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was he making fun of me? He shook his head once, his gaze traveling over my face, my outfit, and even my purse.  

“I just . . . I mean . . . you don’t look like you normally do.”I folded my arms across my chest. 

“So?” 

“So, I like it.” 

I studied his face for a long moment, but his gaze was steady. I realized that he meant it. I really did look okay. My body relaxed and I leaned back.  

“Well, then, I guess, thanks.” He nodded.  

“I’m going to get a drink. Hold the table?” 

“Sure.” I cleared my throat. “So, um, are Jennie and Sana coming, or what?” 

“Yeah.” He slid out of the booth to his feet, his gaze flicking to my hair again. He shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “So, you want something to drink?” I grinned at his reaction.  

“Diet Coke. Get a pitcher.That’s what Jennie and Sana drink too.” Jennie. . . I needed to deal with that. I mean, I should tell him now that she likes him.  

“Um, Taehyung, about Jennie...” Suddenly I lost my train of thought when I noticed Jungkook walking toward us, carrying a couple of drinks.  

He glanced at me and his eyes passed over me, then his gaze snapped back to my face, his eyebrows nearly shooting off his forehead. 

“What about her?” Taehyung prompted. I waved him off. 

“I’ll tell you later. I’m really thirsty. Go get me something to drink. Please,” I added. He shrugged and headed to the counter, giving Jungkook a second look as he walked by him, like he was trying to place him. Be cool, Y/n. It’s all about the sports. 

Jungkook headed straight toward my table, his gaze pinned to my face. I held my breath and sat straighter as he approached. I could totally handle this. Really. Jungkook paused at my table, his eyes scanning my outfi t like crazy.  

“Hey,” he said. He was wearing baggy jeans with a hole in the right knee, a black tee shirt, and a black leather jacket. Um, hello? Hottie alert. Since when did he own a leather jacket? 

“Hey, yourself.” I shifted in my seat and clenched my hands under the table, where he couldn’t see them. 

“Feeling better?”  

“Yeah, I’m feeling better. I crashed when I got home for a few hours. But I’m really wigging that I missed practice. I’m going to head over to the school in the morning to drill. You in?” His gaze flicked to my diamond pendant.  

“Um, I don’t know. . . .” I shrugged. “Whatever. Just thought I’d throw it out there. I was going to practice some of those moves we were talking about last night, during the game.” Talk soccer. Talk soccer. 

A fresh light came into his eyes and he slid opposite me. “Which ones?” Caught a whiff. He smelled good. I refused to notice. 

“That offensive move where the guy faked out the defender when he . . .” 

“Right.” He nodded. “That was slick. And the one right at the end of the game where he passed the ball . . .”  

“Well, duh, of course that one.” We’d talked about that play for at least ten minutes. “So, that’s cool if you’re not into it, but I was thinking I’d ask Jennie and Sana to help me, if you can’t make it.” He drummed his fingers on the table.  

“What time?” 

“Ten?” I smirked at him. “I suppose that’s too early for an old guy like you.” His eyebrows went up.  

“Old? I’m a year older than you.” 

“I know. You got any gray hair yet?” I reached over and pretended to pluck one from his head. “Got one.” 

He grabbed my wrist and tugged my hand away from his head. “Cut it out, you crazy chick.” But he was laughing, looking at me the way he always did. He tightened his grip around my wrist as I tried to get it free. “Fine. I’ll practice tomorrow. I can’t leave you on your own, you’re too dangerous to yourself.” 

 I stuck my tongue out at him and he leaned forward to peer at it. “Looks like the burns are healing well. No need for emergency tongue surgery.” 

“No thanks to you.” 

“Me?” 

“You bought the pizza, so it’s your fault.” I giggled as he tried to put on an offended face.  

“Oh, give it up, Jungkook. You’re so not innocent. . . .” Someone cleared their throat and we both looked up.  

Taehyung was standing there frowning at our hands. We followed his gaze, realizing at the same time that Jungkook still had his hand wrapped around my wrist. We jerked our hands back, and he slid out of the booth, his face suddenly wary again.  

Oh, great. Back to that already? He’d been the one holding on to me! 

“Okay, so, see you later, Y/n,” Jungkook said. He nodded at Taehyung. “Later.” He grabbed his drinks and bolted. 

I tried to watch where he went, but Taehyung moved into my line of vision as he sat down, so I craned my neck to see around him, relocating Jungkook just in time to see him sit down at a table full of guys at the back. No, wait. It wasn’t just guys, there were girls too.  

I sat up straighter, my heart starting to pound. Did that blond hair belong to Winter? Was he at Pop’s with her? I clenched my fists as I saw her turn to the side so I could see her profile. Yep. It was Winter and she had her hand on Jungkook’s arm. And he wasn’t bolting! 

 What was up with that? 

Since when did he like girly girls? Did he actually like them and he was just pretending to hate them as a reason not to like me? Was it me then, that he didn’t want that kind of relationship with? 

I felt sick. Totally sick. 

“Y/n?” I dragged my gaze off the train wreck at the back of the room and looked at the person in front of me. 

“What?” 

“You okay? You look kinda strange.” I took a deep breath, which was totally shaky.  

“I’m fine.” He slid the pitcher and a glass of ice toward me.  

That’s the guy from the football game, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” I tipped the glass and managed to pour the soda without spilling it all over the table. Was Jungkook still there with Winter? Was his arm around her? Was he looking at me? I wanted to know. I had to know, however refused to turn around. 

“So, um, he keeps looking over here,” Taehyung said. 

“Really?” I grinned, but I didn’t look at Jungkook. No way was he going to catch me looking at him. Taehyung leaned back in his seat.  

“So you said you guys weren’t dating, but that’s not true, is it?” I snorted. “Oh, it’s true.” I took a long drink of soda and eyed the window we were sitting next to, trying to see if I could see Jungkook in the reflection.  Was that his table? Yes, yes, it was! Right on!  

Then my gut sank. Was his arm really around the back of Winter’s chair? It couldn’t be! Must be a distortion from the reflection. I looked at Taehyung. 

“Is his arm around the back of that girl’s chair?” He looked at me for a long moment then he turned in Jungkook’s direction. 

“Yeah, it is.” I pressed my lips together and tightened my grip on my cup. 

“So, that’s how it is.” He sounded resigned. I stared at the little bubbles on the surface of my soda, watching each one pop. You will not look at Jungkook. 

“How what is?” 

“You have a crush on him.” I jerked my gaze to Taehyung. “What? No way! Hah. That’s totally stupid!” He lifted his brows. I lifted mine right back. For a minute, we had an unspoken eyebrow lifting contest, then I grinned. 

“You win. I’m getting a headache.” He smiled and let his brows drop down. “So you really meant it on the field that day when you said you weren’t into me?” I shrugged. 

“Huh.” He shifted in his seat.  

“So, maybe I should hit the road, then. Before the others get here.” He started to slide out of the seat and I grabbed his wrist.  

“Wait!” 

“Y/n—” 

“What do you think of Jennie?” He looked at me blankly. “Jennie? She’s nice, I guess.” 

“But is she cute?” His forehead wrinkled slightly.  

“Well, yeah. Of course.” Oh, she was so going to kill me for this, I knew.  

“She really likes you.” He stared at me, his eyes wide.  

“What?” 

“See, that’s one reason why I never thought of you as a guy. I couldn’t! She’s liked you forever and I’d never do that to her.” He leaned back in his seat with a thump, staring at me. 

“You’re kidding. Jennie? But she’s such a flirt. I didn’t think she meant anything by it. . . .” 

“She’s that way only with you.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Tae, give her a chance. She’s actually really normal, she just wigs around you because she likes you.” 

“Wow.” He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “Wow.” I leaned forward.  

“So? Do you like her, then?” On second thought, she wasn’t going to kill me. She was going to love me forever for this one. He grimaced ever so slightly.  

“She’s not really my type, you know?” Oh, no.

“But she’s cute and friendly. . . .” 

“Does she ever sweat?” He rolled his eyes. “That’s why I like you, Y/n, you’re cool. You’re into sports. I dig that.” 

“But you’re not into sports. All you do after school is hang out at my practice. That’s why I can’t like you. I can’t be with a guy who’s less of an athlete than I am.” He shot me a cocky grin, his eyes suddenly sparkling. 

“Before you judge me, you might ask me if I play any sports.” I frowned. 

“Do you play any sports?” 

“Ice hockey.” Surprise made my mouth drop open.  

“You do? When?” He pulled the straw out of his drink and began to twist it around his finger . 

“Well, as you probably know, our school doesn’t have ice hockey, so I play in a private league year round. We have ice time at five A.M. every day, and play games on Sunday afternoons.” 

“Really?” I leaned forward, interested in what he had to say for the first time ever. “Are you good?” He shrugged.  

“I’m okay.”  

“Which means either that you’re terrible or that you’re great and you’re too humble to admit it.” I cocked my head. 

 “Knowing you, I tend to doubt the humble thing, so you must not be very good. . . .” He grinned.  

“Actually, I went to Canada last winter to play in some tournaments over the Christmas holiday.” 

“Really?” I drummed my finngers on the table, feeling like I was looking at him for the fi rst time ever. His eyes were sort of a dark green and his eyelashes were long. Interesting.  

“That’s so cool. I had no idea. I thought you were just this guy with nothing going on in his life other than torturing me.” His smile got a little strained.  

“I torture you?”  

“Well, yeah, usually. Right now, you’re almost tolerable, though.” I sat up, wrapping my hands around my drink.  

“So, tell me about Canada. Did you play Canadian teams or was it tournaments, or what?” 

“You really want to know?” he asked, sounding surprised. 

“Most girls don’t really want to hear about hockey.” 

“I do.” I leaned my elbows on the table and propped my chin up in my hands.  

“I think it sounds awesome. I’d love to be good enough to play in other countries. That’s my goal, you know. To be able to play college soccer, then go international. But you’re already doing it.” I sighed, gazing at him. “That’s so cool. How long have you been skating?” A genuine smile softened his face and he shoved his drink out of the wayand leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “Well, I started when I was six. . . .” 

Twenty minutes later, we were deep in conversation about sports when Taehyung suddenly stopped talking and looked at me. Uh-oh. Did I have mascara on my eyelid or something? 

“What?” 

“You want to go on a date sometime? A real date?”  

Oh, wow. I sat back and looked at him. I mean, I was having a blast talking to him and he was cute and everything, but, well . . . he wasn’t Jungkook. He leaned forward.  

“I mean, we’re having fun, right? Getting along?” 

“Yeah.” And we were. I should like him. I should. There was nothing wrong with him. 

“So, let’s try it.” 

“Well . . .” No. I couldn’t do it. I just didn’t want to. I was simply too into Jungkook and going on a date with him wouldn’t fix it. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Jennie even if I did like him. 

“Y/n?” I cringed and looked up. Jennie was standing right next to the table, a look of disbelieving horror on her face. 

“Jennie! Taehyung and I were just talking about you. . . .”  

“Yeah, I heard. Was that before or after you told him how cool he was for being a hockey player? Before or after he asked you out on a date?” Her voice was cold and I saw Taehyung’s eyes widen. Sana stood behind her, looking way uncomfortable. 

“Um, so, what’s up, guys?” Her gaze darted around the room. “Is . . . Jimin here?” 

“He’s coming,” Taehyung said, still staring at Jennie who looked like she was about to explode. There was a definite thoughtful gleam to his eye, the kind a guy gets when he’s just been told that a girl is in love with him, like, “Oh, here is one of my adoring fans.” 

“Come to the bathroom with me. We need to talk,” I said, trying to catch her eye. 

“No. Way.” Her eyes flashed with anger. I’d never seen her so mad. “You just lost me as a friend, Y/n. I will kick your butt on the soccer field next week and you are so going down.” She spun around. “Come on Sana.” She shot me an apologetic look.  

“Call me later,” she mouthed. “We’ll talk.” And then she hurried after Jennie. 

Shit.  

I dove out of the booth and grabbed Jennie’s arm.  

“Wait!” She whirled to face me.  

“How could you do that? How could you go for him? You know I like him!” 

“I didn’t go for him!” I lowered my voice, knowing Taehyung was only a few feet away, but the place was so loud that I prayed he wouldn’t be able to hear me. “I told him you liked him!” 

“What?” She screeched. Taehyung could totally hear that. 

“How could you do that? I’ll never be able to look at him again!” 

“But, I thought that’s what you wanted me to do. . . .” 

“Forget it, Y/n. You are so history.” She pointed at me. “Don’t you dare follow me or I swear I will climb up on that table and scream to everyone that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook” I dropped her arm and sucked in my breath.  

“You wouldn’t!” 

“Oh. I would. And for your information, Jungkook is outside right now, kissing Winter.” I recoiled in horror, my hand going to my mouth. 

“What?” She leaned into my space and glared at me.  

“Stay out of my life, Y/n and prepare yourself to kiss your spot on varsity goodbye. You take what I want, and I’ll take what you want.” And then she was gone, Sana running after her.

I didn’t dare follow her, not with that threat, but she had to be lying. Jungkook would never kiss Winter. Never! But when I looked back at his table,he wasn’t there. And neither was Winter. Oh, God. Had Jennie been telling the truth? 

My stomach churned and I sank back onto the seat across from Taehyung. He eyed me, looking way too amused by the whole situation. Why wouldn’t he? Two girls in a screaming fight over him? Of course he’d think it was hilarious.  I glared at him and all he did was smile.  

“So, I’m thinking that you and me on a date . . . not a great idea, huh Y/n?” 

“Gee, you think?” His smile widened.  

“So, about Jennie. . .” 

“What?” I snapped. I had to get home, this night was a disaster.  

“I had no idea she could yell like that. It was a good threat, too. Think she can pull it off?” I stared at him.  

“You like her now because she yelled at me?” He shrugged, still looking way too happy.  

“I didn’t realize she had it in her. Is she really going to kick your butt on the soccer field?” How could he sound so cheerful? I stuck my tongue out at him and left. I’d had enough. 

Jennie’s threat kept hanging over me like a bad grade. If she really decided to bust her butt on the soccer field, I was in such trouble, especially since I already had one bad try out. No I had to forget Jennie, she was going down.  

I was already drenched in sweat by the time Jungkook arrived a little after ten. I was burning my way through some drills and I had my back toward that side of the field but I suddenly knew he was there. It was like my bones got all tingly and my pulse jacked up. 

He said nothing and I didn’t turn around. All I could think about was him with Winter. Had he left with her? Why had he let her put her hand on his arm? Was all his anti girl sentiment actually a lie? Was it just me he didn’t like? Had he really kissed her? Gosh, so many questions to so littleanswers. 

Scowling, I slammed the ball at the net. It careened over the top of it and sailed into the next field. 

“Nice shot.” Was he sarcastic with Winter too or was I the only lucky one?  

“Thanks,” I snapped, jogging after my ball to retrieve it. I picked it up and turned around, almost stopping at the sight of him. He was wearing navy sweats and a fleece against the brisk morning air and he was wearing a baseball cap on backward. So casual, so cute. So unfair. 

“So, want to do some passing drills this morning, then?” he asked not even giving me the slightest inspection. 

“Yeah.” I walked up and dropped the ball at his feet. “Sounds good.” He cocked his head. 

“Good morning to you, Ms. Cranky.” 

“Good morning to you.” I ignored the remark about my mood, because, well, he was right. I was being a grouch and it wasn’t like I was going to tell him the reason. What was I supposed to say? Ask him whether he was dating Winter? 

“Are you dating Winter?” Oh shit! How had that slipped out? Jungkook looked startled.  

“Winter? You’re kidding, right?” I grabbed the ball with my toe and headed away from him to start the passing drill.  

“You were there with her. She was all over you and you didn’t seem to mind.” I kicked him the ball and started running down the field. 

“All over me?” He slammed the ball and I had to sprint to catch it before it sailed past me.  

“She and her friend had a table and they let us join them when there were no other open ones. Not a big deal.” I cut in front of him and he passed me the ball as he split in the other direction.  

“Well she had her hand on your arm. What’s up with that?” I kicked the ball ahead of him and felt a mild sense of satisfaction when he grunted and dug in to try to catch up to it. 

“I don’t even remember. What’s it matter to you?” He was breathing heavily as he dribbled the ball a few feet, waiting for me to move into position. 

“It doesn’t matter except Taehyung was convinced you and I were dating, even when I denied it.” I ran across the field and nodded for the pass. “So when he saw you and Winter getting it on he thought I was all pathetic because you were hanging with her in front of me.”  

Not quite the truth, but close enough if he wanted to hear what I was really saying. Jungkook smashed the ball at me and I had to head it to keep it from sailing past me out of bounds. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, blocking the ball and trying a much more controlled pass right to me. “Winter asked if you and I were a couple.” My cleat caught in the turf and I almost went down. 

“What? ” I regained my balance and dribbled a couple of yards while Jungkook sprinted toward the goal. “You and I? As if!” I lifted the ball up toward Jungkook’s face.  

“Did you kiss her?” He scowled and headed the ball into the upper right corner of the net. Then he spun toward me, his hands on his hips. 

“Did you just ask me if I kissed her?” I eased to a stop in front of him.

“Did you?” His cheeks turned red and my gut tightened in dismay. Was that a guilty look?  

“Jungkook! Why didn’t you tell me you were dating her? I thought we were all bonding over our ‘we aren’t into the dating scene’ thing, and then I find out that you’re dating her?” 

“I didn’t lie to you,” he protested. “I said I wasn’t dating her and I’m not. I’m not dating anyone.” 

“But did you kiss her?” 

“Why does it matter to you?” 

“Because I thought you were my friend and friends don’t lie to each other. I trusted you because I thought you were like me, not into dating. We made fun of people who got stupid around the opposite sex. Was all that a lie too?” 

“No! I’m not dating her!” I folded my arms over my chest, well aware that he was avoiding the bigger question.  

“Did you kiss her?” He turned away to go retrieve the soccer ball that was still sitting in the back of the goal.  

“She kissed me when we left,” he muttered. “It was nothing. Friends. I didn’t kiss her back.” 

“Friends?” Oh, God! My stomach was killing me and I felt this weird buzzing in my ears. “You don’t kiss someone that you’re only friends with! What kind of stupid comment is that?” He grabbed the ball and spun toward me, a scowl on his face.  

“It’s not the same kind of kiss, trust me.” 

“Was it on the lips?” His cheeks got even redder.  

“That’s not the point.” 

“It is the point.” I marched up to him and poked him in the chest. “If you kiss a girl on the lips, it’s not a friends kiss. It’s a dating kiss.” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“Of course it does!” His eyes narrowed and I realized I’d gone too far, riding him over Winter. Come on, Y/n, get it together! 

Then he suddenly dropped the ball, set his hand o on my shoulders and pulled me toward him. Before I even knew what he was doing, he bent his head and kissed me. 

On the lips. 

Fuck 

His lips were soft and warm and he tasted like mint toothpaste and my belly jumped like a mile. His fingers tightened on my shoulders and I instinctively grabbed his wrists as he kissed me again, so gently, so soft, so perfect. 

He tilted his head, his breath hot against my lips. A chill shot down my spine and I kissed him back. This was how a kiss was supposed to be. It was amazing and perfect and awesome and I would never, ever, ever forget this moment. Then suddenly he froze and his lips stopped moving, so I froze too.  

He broke the kiss and looked down at me, his hands still gripping my shoulders, his eyes all dark and intense. I stared at him, my lips tingling and my body all freaking out. He cleared his throat.  

“See?” I wet my lips trying to get my brain working again. 

“See what?” That you like me? That that was the best kiss in the history of the world? He took a breath. Then another one.  

“A guy and a girl can kiss on the lips and it can be a friends kiss.” I blinked as his words sank in.  

“A friends kiss?” 

“Yeah.” He dropped his hands from my shoulders and sort of shook out his shoulders. “See? We kissed. It meant nothing, because we’re just friends.” He sent me a sideways glance. “Right?” 

Depression settled like a black cloud in my mind as I realized what he meant. The kiss had meant nothing. He’d kissed me to prove a point. To win an argument. But it had been so perfect! How could it have meant nothing? It had been my first kiss! First kisses were supposed to be perfect! They weren’t  supposed to mean nothing! 

“So?” His voice sounded a little ragged. “You take back your comment about Winter now?”I gaped at him, struggling to get my mind together.Should I kick him in the shin? Cry? Leave?  

“You have no right to kiss me!” He frowned.  

“It wasn’t that kind of kiss. It was just a kiss.” Just a kiss. This was horrible! He was so not into me that he’d kissed me, I mean he really kissed me and he obviously hadn’t felt even the faintest spark of anything. 

He wasn’t into me. 

My throat tightened up and my eyes suddenly got all watery. Fuck   I wasn’t going to let him make me cry! I jerked free of him and spun away, blinking as hard as I could.  

“So, yeah, so Jennie is going to try to beat me out at varsity so I have to, um, practice, really hard this week, because, you know, I don’t want to, like, not make it, you know?” The ball was blurry, but I grabbed it and started heading back up the field. “So, um, I think, like, yeah, maybe- run that drill another time?” 

When he didn’t answer, I turned around. He was standing where I’d left him, the strangest look on his face as he stared after me. 

“What?” I snapped. 

“The friends thing,” he said. “You buy it now?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. That kiss makes it clear. No magic. Whatever. Can we practice now?” For a long moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer, then he nodded and seemed to kick into gear again.  

“Sure. Let’s do it.” He jogged past me, flicked my ponytail and kept running. Great, we were back to the ponytail flicking relationship. It was the perfect foundation for another week of practice. 

But as I squared up with the ball, I began to seriously doubt whether I could take another week of practice with him, even for the sake of varsity.  

Because I just couldn’t get that kiss out of my mind. 

[deviouz]

Jason with a chubby! fem readerrr pls pls pls!!

Him admiring her as if she were an angel descended on earth and being genuinely surprised and confused that she doesn't really see that much appeal in her body like he does, but he has a way of showing his sweetheart just how beautiful she is (he may or may not has bought a floor length mirror and positioned it riiight in front of their bed <33)

Xoxo

thank you for indulging in my chubby chaser jason fantasies <3

if there’s one thing jason is good at, it’s making you feel beautiful. hell, beautiful might be an understatement with the way he worships the ground you walk on and gazes at you with nothing but pure love and devotion.

sometime’s he can see you staring longingly at outfits while out shopping, and he’s all to quick to force those negative thoughts out of your head. he’ll encourage you to try them on, narrows his eyes when he knows you’re about to say something rude about yourself, and insists on buying it because all he wants is for you to see yourself the way he sees you — drop dead gorgeous and utterly perfect.

truth be told, jason loves his partners to have a little more meat on their bones, so to speak. there’s something about the way your eyes widen and face gets all flushed when he picks you up, sometimes completely out of the blue, and spins you around like you weigh nothing.

“jay, put me down! i’m too—”

“don’t you even think about finishing that sentence unless you’d like not being able to walk for the rest of the week.”

he’ll put you up on the counter and slide his hands under the sundress he had bought you, fingers gripping into the plush of your thighs until they’re parting to make room for him. you’re still too flustered to look him in the eye, lips curled into a slight pout and cheeks all puffed up.

“come on, sweetheart, don’t give me that look. you and i both know that i could easily bench double your weight without breaking a sweat.”

you can’t really fault him there, especially not when he’s slinging you over his shoulder and waltzing off to the bedroom. the asshole even has the audacity to laugh at your incessant demands to put me down! and the so-called-punches you threw at his toned back.

another thing jason todd was particularly good at was fucking those mean thoughts right out of your pretty little head.

ever the adventurous one, you and jason have tried your fair share of positions in the bedroom, though his favorite had to be reverse cowgirl. he loves having you perch on his lap right at the end of the bed, hands roaming your naked form with fervor, all the while he has you gaze into the mirror hung on the wall just across from you both. it was tall and expensive and oh-so-perfect to gaze at the sheer size difference between you and your boyfriend.

“so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” jason whispers, rough hands grabbing at the fat of your hips with need. “so perfect for me.”

you’re already at your wits end, throbbing with need around all eight inches of his cock nestled deep in your cunt, lips swollen from the way you kept tugging them between your teeth. it was hard to keep still, hips itching to move, but jason kept you from doing so.

“jason, please—”

“ah, ah, ah. you know the drill.”

giving a desperate whine, you threw your head back against his shoulder and rolled your hips. “you’re the worst.”

one of jason’s hands trailed up to grab at your neck, lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as he gave a soft chuckle. “don’t be a brat and maybe i’ll give you what you want.”

“maybe?”

“mhmm. i’m sure if you said it sweet enough i could be convinced otherwise.”

huffing out a puff of air, you turned your gaze back to the mirror. jason’s hand trailed from your neck to your chest, giving your breasts some much needed attention while you stared at the reflection, embarrassment trickling into your nerves.

“i… i’m beautiful.”

his hand slowly slid down to your stomach, sharp eyes staring at your own in the mirror. “and?”

“and pretty.”

“and?”

“…gorgeous?”

“and?”

“and if you don’t fuck me within the next two seconds, i’m gonna—”

before you could even finish your sentence, jason gave a sudden thrust of his hips, forcing his cock all the deeper — deep enough to have the tip brushing at an all-too-sensitive spot and your eyes start to roll back.

“yeah? what are you gonna do, princess?”

his thrusts didn’t stop after the first. if anything, he was just getting started.

“gonna go try to get yourself off?”

“n-no, jay!”

the sound of skin-against-skin soon filled the room, coupled with his teasing words and your pleasure-filled noises.

“you sure ‘bout that?”

the quick nods from your head had him smirking, hands grabbing at the plush of your hips with a possessive touch. he held you tight and fucked up into you like an animal in heat, like he was desperate to leave a mark on you to show everyone else who you belonged to — who he belonged to, too.

“promise, i swear,” words were becoming harder to form with the way he relentlessly pounded up into your warm heat, “no one— ah! fucks me like you!” your arousal was more than evident with the way slick began to coat your inner thighs, a creamy white ring appearing around the base of his cock with every thrust.

“that’s my good girl.”

[ask-postcrash-curly]

🎣 Giving P3 Curly a sick fishing outfit…

70% █████▒▒▒▒▒

⭐ Downloading Tulpar Crew Pack…

80% █████▒▒▒▒▒

🐟 Bleep blop bleep blop… is that how fish make sounds? Oh well…

99% ██████████

🌻 You chose the following:

P3 Curly as your character avatar

Download Tulpar Crew Pack

Normal Mode: Swish-Swash Buckling Shlongaloo

Jimlings #3: Crickets

🌻 A great choice! Now that these are out of the way, let’s start off with a bit of a storytelling, shall we? Let me just turn on my narrator voice… ahem ahem... dot dot dot... (insert really cool narrator voice)

You are a humble fisherman who just decided that today was going to be a good day. You grabbed yourself a cup of coffee to start it. The aroma of fresh coffee beans filled the atmosphere, hitting it juuust right. Everything was fine and dandy… until the world decided that it wasn't going to be fine and dandy. You experienced every minor inconvenience known to man: Spilling your cup of coffee, a small but noticeable stain on your favourite shirt, stepping on a wet puddle with socks on, those unskippable YouTube ads that lasted for a solid minute for a 30-second video… getting caught in a red light and you have to wait. So close, yet so far…

When you got home, you decided that maybe a fish sandwich would cheer you up. To your unbelievably worst luck that never seemed to run out, there was no fish. How ironic...

So you decided to venture out to the sea to find yourself the perfect fish for your perfect fish sandwich. Sure, you can buy fish from the supermarket, but catching it fresh makes it all the more delicious.

After grabbing your trusty Swish-Swash Buckling Shlongaloo and a box full of Jimlings #3, you finally made your way to your boat and set sail. Normally, the ocean would be shrouded in darkness in the dead of night. However, the moonlight seemed to be glowing so strong, it became the light in the void and revealed royal shades of blue you never thought you’d see at this time. The call of the night reeled you deeper into the heart of the ocean…

🪼 Now Playing: Emma Is Lost - Isobel Waller-Bridge David Schweitzer 🪼

                   .ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı.

0:00 o──────────────────── 1:07

                    ↺   |◁   II   ▷|   ♡

As you drifted farther away from home, all that was left were the faint hum of your boat’s engine and the swooshing sounds of the sea. The smell of salt wafted in the air as the cold midnight breeze gently bathed your entirety. Your eyes flooded with the sight of the blue horizon. Perhaps this is how you got those so called “ocean eye”. Whether or not you had loved the ocean, it had left a part of itself in the window of your soul. You were truly part of its world.

After your nightly dose of the lustrous sea, you placed your gaze upon the full moon. The fishermen at the docks said that you won’t get a good haul if she’s fully out, but you believed that that was a bunch of baloney. Besides, you get to see the whole of her beauty. Moonlight painted your face, an ethereal glow highlighting your features. She seems to be listening right now. What do you say to the moon?

[1] - (You are free to say anything. Make small talk , pour your heart out, anything, really! Perhaps the moon will respond... perhaps not, who knows?)

Random ramblings from d1tz to the mod:

I was too late to realize... that Curly's fishing fit looks almost like Mario without the hat... sobbing screaming frothing at the mouth

I gotta give him a bucket hat, I don't want to draw Curly and think of that goofy ahh Italian plumber

Yes, I decided to use the nighttime screen to avoid drawing another piece LOL

!!

All right, let’s see what we’ve got.

Wonderful art. I like the little crew doodles, hah. Feels like something Daisuke would draw on Swansea’s Post-Its.

Coffee, eh? Guess fisherman Curly’s sleep schedule’s not so good either. Heh.

Wait, why do the wet socks bother me if my feet are fake? Why am I wearing socks over my prosthetics? I’m overthinking this. These little inconveniences sound fantastic, honestly. Carry on. 

This art is insanely funny. Thank you!

Hmm, I like the song. It’s eerie, but nice, you know?

Oh, uh—

Hello, Moon. It’s me… Curly…

You look a lot like the Tulpar’s nighttime window screen if it were the real thing and not a glorified screensaver. Which I obviously know nothing about, being a humble fisherman and all. Hah.

Uh… So… Any good fish in these parts? I’m on a very noble sandwich-making quest. I’ll appreciate any help. Thanks, Moon.

God this is ridiculous. I love it.

[pixiedurango]

Hey, so I saw your letter ask post and it's an amazing idea! Your letters look so good 😍!! I was wondering if you would in interested, please, in doing one between Teia and Lucanis where Teia absolutely has picked up on the love/desire/connection between lucanis and Rook and she's trying to subtlety encourage/ get info out of Lucanis because aside from spite, teia is rookanis biggest shipper and no one can convince me otherwise 🤣! Thanks 😊

Yay, you have sent my first ever request for the Antivan Postal Service. Thank you so much.

I went with a f!rook without any other specifications, I hope that is OK. Here we go, I really hope you like it <3

Transcript:

Lucanis,

forgive me, but the day I’ll address you as 1st Talon in a private letter, I might throw myself into the canals from the big bell tower.

I just wanted to check in with you. Sending something else than operation missives, contract matters and reports. Some cozy Antivan hospitality within those lines to give you a glimpse of home. And a taste, see the crate attached - you will find an assortment of the finest delicacies Treviso has to offer.

Ah, she sends gifts… what does she want? I don’t need to see you, to know what you are thinking right now. But can a fellow Crow, a Talon even, of a somewhat alligned House not just look after you to see how you are doing? You’ve been away for so long, even before the… you know what. And upon return, you just stumbled into the worst of literally everything…

Just let me assure you that things are calming down around here and once you will return home, you’ll find your Crows in immaculate shape. We know, that Caterina will take care of that, but not alone, as Vi and I are here to have your back. And that’s not sucking up to my boss, but as I see it the only chance we have is unity if what we seek is stability and a thriving Treviso, a thriving Antiva once this whole ‘killing the old gods and stopping the end of world’ thing is over and dealt with.

How is life at the lighthouse? We really need to drop by soon for a meetup and a tour. I’m dying to see how it is to live in the Fade. Aren’t these crazy times? Casually speaking of visiting friends in the Fade where they live. If I would not be part of this whole story I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me!

Speaking of crazy… How’s Rook doing? She works so hard. And yet she always has a smile and a kind word. I wonder where she got THAT from. Unlikely from Viago. And she got you your smile back, too! You thought I would not notice, right? But its clear to see that you are beaming. More every time we meet.

I’m not saying it’s her (alone) that brought your smile back. Purpose, a contract, some successes along the way, friends… all this does wonders for you.

But from the day, that you begged me to not flirt with your “colleague” I knew there was something between the both of you. You might not even have realized yourself then, but I KNEW. And don’t you shake your head on reading this, I know what I know. Rook is not only a pleasure to look at, but she is also smart, loyal, funny and, you can’t deny it - good for you.

Don’t you worry, I may not have many secrets in front of your nonna, excuse me, Caterina - but this one will stay between me and you (and Rook). Viago of course is as oblivious of social cues as ever, so you don't have to worry on that front, either.

Be assured, you can explore this surely exciting events in your private life without the worry, of becoming the cover story of the Treviso gazettes. Your secret is safe with me. This said, just know that I’d love to hear everything you want to tell me about it, but of course I know I’m talking into the Fade here…. Quite literally.

So, nothing more to say but: Enjoy your gift box, I recommend the bottle of good old red together with some of the tapas in the sealed basket. I’m sure, Rook will love them too.

Always yours - Teia