#i think i was always jealous of her as a kid

[muniimyg]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUPERNOVA // JJK ੈ✩‧₊˚

01 | 02 | ♡ 03

— stuck in an unspoken love triangle, oc and jungkook face the end of it all

au/genre:

mean girl au

love triangle

childhood friends to lovers

note: omg ! the end <3

//

jungkook had a plan. 

he was going to show you around the new exhibit, confess, and ask to be your boyfriend. his entire life, he waited for signs and for the perfect time—only for him to realize that there will never be a moment where bells ring and tell him; now. 

no. 

you see, after all this time—for his entire life—you have been the quiet. 

his quiet. 

all his life, it’s like his eyes only focused on you. everything and everyone around him was blurry and the only real clarity he had in his life was art and you… and as corny as it is; that’s what you are to him entirely. 

art. 

from your pottery, to the way you look, and to the way you simple are—you are his favourite masterpiece. 

the canvas gallery is where you two ran around as kids, amazed at all the pieces other artists made. so, it only made sense that this would be the place where he kicks his anxiety in the ass and finally fucking goes for it. 

so, he waited. 

and waited. 

…. and waited.

and right when he was about to call you—

hana showed up. 

she grabbed his arm and yapped all about how excited she is to be here with him. to that, jungkook shook off her grip and stepped away.

...

“what are you doing here?”

“___ gave me her ticket—”

“fuck that. hana, why do you always do this? why do you always take things from ___?”

with distant yet jealous eyes, hana replied; “because she has better things than me. i like her things. is it so wrong to like her things?” 

“are you insane?”

“maybe.” hana scoffed. “i don’t get it. what does she have that i don’t? we grew up together and did everything together—yet, it’s like… i’m not even half of her.”

“because you aren’t.” he growled. “you hate ___, right?”

silence. 

“that’s okay,” jungkook exhaled. “cos i fucking hate you. with all my being. ever since you blew out ___’s 14th birthday candles. ever since you always kissed the guys she was into. ever since her pottery business bloomed and you accidently knocked over a piece she was working on for two months. god, hana. i have and will always hate you.”

“shit, jungkook. is that it? are you done—”

“no,” he sighed. “i will never be done hating you for taking every opportunity to turn anything good for ___ into something bad. you want to play mean girl? fine by me. let’s fucking play. get this through your fucking head; i will never be yours but i will forever be ___'s."

...

jungkook gave you time.

partly because he was mad—mad that you gave hana your ticket so easily, mad at how quickly you folded like you always do. but mostly, because he knows how you are in moments like this. you don’t talk. you retreat, giving yourself space to breathe, to think. he hopes you’re using the time to clear your head, making space for him.

by the third week of awkward text exchanges—his dry "good night" met with your overly polite “you too"—and no more nightly facetime calls where he fell asleep to your voice, jungkook snaps.

he gets into his car and drives to your studio.

the late afternoon light spills through the frosted windows as he parks outside. his stomach twists at the sight of the closed sign hanging on the door, but the faint hum of a song playing inside tells him you’re there. jungkook knocks, loud and insistent.

for a moment, he worries you won’t answer.

that you’ll pretend not to hear him or let the music drown him out. but then, he hears the soft shuffle of slippers and the click of the lock.

when the door creaks open, you’re there.

cheeks flushed from the warmth of the studio, hair tied back messily, and streaks of dried clay smudged across your forearms. your apron is dusted in powdery beige, a damp hand towel clutched in your fingers.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his name on your lips is enough to tip him over the edge. stepping forward, he pushes the door shut behind him and closes the space between you in one fluid motion.

your back hits the sink behind you with a soft thud, the cool porcelain biting through the thin fabric of your apron. his hands find your waist first, firm and grounding, as though he’s anchoring himself to you.

“w-what are you—”

“i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters, his voice low and trembling, the words spilling out as though they’ve been trapped inside for years.

he shifts closer, one hand leaving your waist to cradle your jaw. his thumb grazes your cheek, where a smear of dried clay clings to your skin. you’re so warm, and so unbearably soft that it makes his chest ache. his other hand brushes against the edge of your apron, his knuckles bumping against the damp streaks of clay still drying on your fingers.

“jungkook—” you try again, but your voice falters when he leans in. his forehead brushes yours, and he’s so close you can see the strain in his jaw, the tension pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“i’ve had enough, ___,” he breathes, his voice trembling with something between desperation and exhaustion. “i’m tired of bending backwards to see you. i'm tired of people standing in front of you and i'm sick of you letting them. most of all, i’m tired of waiting for the right time. i—i’ve been in love with you since we were seven, and you know that.”

his hand leaves your cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers trembling slightly as they linger there. “i haven’t done much to hide it, have i? i'm sorry. i've been a coward but... maybe i never did anything because i always knew how you felt about me too.”

your hands tighten on the towel, the wet clay squelching under your fingers. you glance down, unable to meet his gaze, but he doesn’t let you escape.

“look at me,” he pleads softly, tilting your chin upward until your eyes lock with his. the raw intensity in his stare steals the air from your lungs.

“please, ___... i'm fucking begging to you see me through this,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he leans his forehead against yours again. “i'm begging you to take my heart and mold it yours.”

and that’s exactly what you do.

your hands tremble, damp with clay and nerves, as you reach for him. you cradle his jaw gently, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble along his cheeks.

then you kiss him.

jungkook freezes at first, his breath hitching in surprise, but it takes only a heartbeat before he softens. his lips move against yours, slow and deep, like he’s memorizing every second of this moment.

he’s hesitant—his hands stay planted on your waist, his grip cautious, almost shy. but when you sigh against him, his restraint snaps. his fingers curl into the fabric of your apron as he steps closer, pressing his body firmly against yours.

he bends his knees slightly, his arms sliding down to wrap around your thighs. with a quiet grunt, he lifts you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the sink. your legs part instinctively, making room for him to step closer, his body slotting perfectly between yours.

you gasp softly as his hands find the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against him. your fingers slip into his hair, still streaked with clay, and he laughs quietly against your lips at the mess you're making.

his laugh fades quickly, replaced by a deep hum as he kisses you harder, with more certainty. the kiss grows messy, your breaths mingling and the faint taste of salt lingering between you.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, and his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. he doesn’t move far—his forehead rests against yours, his nose brushing yours as his fingers trace small circles on your thighs.

“so…” he whispers, his lips curling into a boyish grin as his gaze flicks to your apron, your hands still smeared with clay. “about that mug?”

[sincerelyneo]

i wanna be yours | p.js

“secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought”

💿now playing: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

❯ summary: Jisung has known for years that his best friend, Chenle’s, sister is his. So there’s no way he’s going to sit back and watch another man touch you—especially not now, when he’s already had a taste of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend

❯ words: 3.8k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don’t do this), dirty talk, fingering, manhandling, jealousy, slightly toxic, praise, squirting, creampies, jisung has something to prove, arguing, older reader, jisung just being jealous and obsessive for almost 4k words

an: first post of 2025 and it’s an idea that i started writing on the bus lol. (also i’m a firm believer of the jisung is very possessive and clingy agenda)

Jisung could sit here and lie, say that the only reason he’s white-knuckling his fist right now is because he’s protective of you. He could lie and say that he’s just worried about the guy who’s currently got his arm around your waist because you’re his best friend’s sister. He could lie and say he’s just concerned—but he’s not.

He’s jealous.

So fucking jealous.

But he has no right to be. You’re Chenle’s older sister. You can handle yourself—you’ve told him that plenty of times, mocking him with that stupid fucking ‘Jisungie’ nickname you used to call him when you were all just kids.

And still, he watches the way you laugh at something the guy says, your head tilting back just enough to make his chest burn. He knows that laugh. He’s heard it a thousand times before, he loves it, but tonight, it feels different—feels wrong. Your laugh is not meant for this guy. It’s not meant for anyone else but him for that matter. 

Jisung knows he should look away before it becomes too obvious—obvious that he likes you, obvious that he's jealous, obvious that he can’t get you out of his head. But that’s hard to do when just ten minutes ago he had you pressed up against the wall of your childhood room—the same wall you share with Chenle—his cock pounding into you from behind without mercy, and you’d let him. Loved it.

How can he stay composed when that asshole has his hand on his girl’s—Chenle’s sister’s—waist? Jisung jolts as he hears his teeth grind together—fuck, was that his jaw clenching? Safe to say he’s passed subtlety. 

He sucks in a breath. This is Chenle’s birthday party, stop thinking about his sister you idiot. 

Actually, fuck that. 

Because why is that stranger’s hand moving up your thigh so easily? Why does your breath hitch when he leans in closer? Call him toxic; he doesn’t care. But Jisung wishes he hadn’t let you put your panties back on, so that asshole could see—no, feel—his cum dripping out of you as his hand traces your thigh right now.

He scoffs and nurses his drink. Keep calm, it’s Chenle’s birthday. 

Speak of the devil—almost on cue, Jisung feels his best friend slap him on the shoulders with a shout. He glances over his shoulder to see Chenle, clearly drunk, and while he usually hates dealing with his wild, inebriated antics, he appreciates that his best friend is oblivious to the way Jisung is currently eyeing his older sister tonight.

He settles into the empty seat next to Jisung with a grunt. “Y/N forgot my cake. One job that girl had,” Chenle shakes his head, guzzling down the last of his beer before grabbing another and cracking it open.

“She was probably preoccupied,” Jisung shrugs, trying to dismiss any thought of you from his mind. He doesn’t exactly know the right way to tell his friend that his sister was too busy being preoccupied on his cock, and that’s why she forgot his birthday cake. 

Chenle scoffs, “She’s always preoccupied. Look at her,” he gestures toward you. “I think I heard her with that guy earlier. Traumatizing.” He visibly shakes and squeezes his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t him,” Jisung growls.

Chenle swats his hand in the air, already halfway through that new beer bottle. “Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t matter who it was, still traumatizing.”

Jisung nods and purses his lips. But to him, it does matter because it was him. Him who made you pant so desperately, him who filled you so completely that your legs wobbled, and he had to hold you steady, his fingertips imprinted into your hips. Him who made you cum. Him. Always him. And right now, he wanted to make sure that it was only him. 

The sound of Chenle snoring in the seat next to him pulls Jisung from his thoughts and back to where he feels most at home—you. He swears he could find you in seconds; you’re like a magnet, an obsession in his mind. You’re all he can think about, all he’s ever been able to think about, and now that he’s had you, he’s never you letting go. Call him a maniac.

With Chenle undoubtedly crashed out, his eyes find you and the sight of you leaning in closer to that guy, lips almost touching, ignites a fire in him. He sees red—hot, undeniable crimson. Without a thought, he storms over. That’s not true, he’s been thinking about it for the past twenty minutes. 

“Y/N!” he calls out, but not to get your attention, to stop your lips connecting with that asshole, who Jisung is certain he’d be able to take in a fight. 

You turn, surprise flickering in those pretty eyes he loves, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to reach you. He steps between you and the guy, his chest heaving, anger palpable. Without giving you a moment to process, his rough hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your childhood bedroom.

Your own wave of crimson flushes over your body as the pink walls come into view and the lock you’d begged your parents for during puberty clicks into place. Jisung had been in your room countless times as kids, when you dressed him and Chenle up like dolls or begged them to play board games. But now, knowing he had you in a pathetic, desperate moaning mess not long ago and gave you the best sex of your life in this very room, it feels different.

He feels different. 

Nostrils flared, fists clenched, and muscles taut. This was not the Jisungie you once made friendship bracelets with or taught to roller skate. No, this was just Jisung—grown up, exuding a raw, masculine energy that was both captivating and intimidating. Sexy even. Perhaps that’s why you got distracted when he came over early to set up for Chenle’s birthday.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted, or indulged, no matter how hot he’d gotten over the summer. He was still, and always would be, your little brother’s best friend. 

Snap out of it, Y/N. 

“Jisung, what do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him and back to reality. 

His eyes narrow, drawn into a sharp expression that shouldn’t make your thighs weak, but it does. “What am I doing? What are you doing, Y/N?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“That guy, Y/N.” He spits your name, a low growl that tightens your chest, “You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m just going to stand by while you flirt with some guy.”

You scoff, unable to deny it. Yes, you had been flirting with that guy, but honestly, it was just a distraction to take your mind off the fact that you’d just let your brother’s childhood friend fuck you six ways to Sunday. 

“You’re being ridiculous," you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “You have no right to act like this.”

His nostrils flare again, and he steps closer, invading your space. You instinctively take a step back—because this is how it happened last time, his stupid muscular body and obnoxious height inching towards you (minus the argument.)

"Ridiculous? You think it’s ridiculous that I care? That I don’t want to see you with someone like him?"

“Someone like him? You don’t know anything about him.”

Jisung tongues the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply before muttering, “He had his hands all over you in the middle of a kitchen. Pretty sure that makes him an automatic asshole.”

You can feel your heart racing, but you refuse to back down. "You’re getting jealous over one guy after we—after a one-time thing, Jisung. It’s so childish!"

The moment that singular word leaves your mouth, you see a shift in his expression. His eyes darken, and there’s a flicker of something raw and primal lingering in his irises. Desire, maybe lust, but definitely determination.

Without a word, Jisung moves toward you in a blur of motion, his hand snapping out to grip your wrist, yanking you back before you even have time to react. You stumble, your back slamming against the door with a harsh thud. Thank God, there’s a party downstairs because you’re certain the impact was savage enough to be heard if not for the music.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he cages you in, his body pressing against yours, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. His hands bracket your face, fingers digging into the wood behind you, holding you there, trapped beneath his gaze, trapped beneath his body. 

"Childish, huh?" His voice drops an octave, and you can feel the heat, the anger, the hunger, radiating off him. "I’ll show you childish."

It’s a threat, a rise to your challenge, and said with an edge that makes your stomach flutter—against your will.

You meet his eyes, refusing to show any fear, though your heart races in your chest. “What, you think you can intimidate me?”

A corner of his mouth curls up in a half-smirk. "I know I can do a lot more than that."

Before you can respond, his face closes the distance between you, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that feels like a challenge—not the passion he offered earlier, just pure desperation and need. His hands grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing harder against yours like he can’t get close enough. 

You can’t tell if it’s anger or the desperate need to prove something that drives him, but the way his touch grows possessive leaves no room for argument. You don’t want to argue though, not when his other hand trails down your thigh, hiking up your dress, and one calloused finger slips beneath the black lace of your panties to find your swollen, aching clit.

You draw in a shallow breath, one that only fuels his cocky grin as he nuzzles into your neck, his warm breath skimming along the delicate curve of your nape before trailing to your ear. His finger continues to rub slow, so painfully slow, circles into your clit.

“Was I childish when I finger fucked you to orgasm with Chenle just next door? Was I childish when I pounded this pretty pussy into your pillows? Or was I childish when—”

“J-Jisungie,” you gasp, voice trembling with need, cutting him off. But who could blame you? The slow, deliberate motion of his fingers, paired with the weight of his words, had you aching for more—more of him, more of this, anything with friction. 

His blunt nails dig into the tender flesh of your thigh, possessive and unyielding, as his lips skim the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone. A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating against your skin. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

You let out a soft whimper of submission, your legs trembling as he edges them apart, giving himself better access to the spot you need him most—the spot he knows you need him most.

“Is that what this is about?” you manage to ask, though your voice is shaky, breathless.

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He doesn’t need to respond because his fingers do it for him, their pace quickening against your sensitive nerves.

You can’t believe this is happening—again. Chenle would kill you both if he found out, but the thought isn’t enough to stop you. Your hips buck instinctively, meeting the rhythm of his long, slender fingers as they work relentlessly to coax an orgasm out of you.

“Ji–We can’t do this,” you whisper, though the words come out weak, entirely unconvincing.

His lips pause against your neck, but his fingers don’t. If anything, they press harder, toying against your clit, drawing a choked moan from your lips as he hovers just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Oh, so we can’t do this,” there’s venom in his voice, as his finger sinks lower until it’s circling your entrance, “but you were ready to let that asshole do this to you in the kitchen.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a mix of shame and defiance flaring within you. “It’s not the same.”

“Exactly,” he growls, his fingers curling inside you in a way that makes your knees buckle. “It’s not the same, because he’ll never touch you the way I do. He’ll never make you feel the way I do, never get the fucking chance.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he cuts you off, his free hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are dark, intense, and filled with something lust. 

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, lips brushing dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t kiss you, but nips at the bottom of your plush lip. “Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N, and I’ll stop.”

You try to form the words, to muster any resistance, but they melt into a moan as his fingers press against that spot deep inside you, leaving your legs trembling. It’s almost sick, really—how well he knows your body, as if he’s memorized every reaction, every weak spot. Like he’s studied the blueprint of you, mastered it, and has no intention of ever letting anyone else have access to it.

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his smirk sharp and sinister. His lips finally crash against yours, stealing what little resolve you had left.

His kiss is hungry, consuming, as if he’s trying to prove a point with every press of his mouth, clash of teeth, and every curl of his fingers. And the worst part is, he’s right—you do want this. You want him.

“Say it,” he demands against your lips. “Say you want me.”

Your hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, body arching into him as his touch overwhelms you. The fight leaves you entirely, your resistance crumbling to dust. “I want you,” you confess, the words spilling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

He grins against your mouth. “Good, because you’re mine.”

And he’s going to make damn sure you know it. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it—especially that fucking asshole who touched you. You’re his. 

Jisung finds the length of your neck again, his skilled fingers continuing their work on your pussy. He knows you’re close, knows exactly how to draw this out of you until you’re cumming, all while he’s branding your skin with purple bruises across your neck. Call it an ego thing, but knowing some part of him will be etched onto your skin has his cock throbbing, his bulge swelling in his jeans just from the thought of you belonging to him—even if it’s only temporary. Jisung doesn’t care. He’ll keep doing this until it’s permanent, until your mind finally catches up, and you realize you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.

“For someone who was so insistent that we can’t do this, you have no problem making a mess on my fingers, noona,” he coos, his whispers brushing against your skin. “I can hear how wet you are, all for me, yeah?”

He’s a cocky fucker, and he knows it.

“Ji—please,” you whine, your body moving in sync with his, desperate to push yourself over the edge. Jisung laughs, the vibration of it shooting through you straight to your core. His fingertips dig into your pelvis, halting your movements because he’s the one in control. He’s the one with something to prove.

“You wanna cum, noona?” he asks, almost mockingly. “Want me to make you cum?”

You nod eagerly, desperation etched across your features. Yes, you want it—no orgasm could ever compare to the one you know he can give you.

Jisung pulls away from your neck, his pupils blown wide as he admires the art painted across your skin—his mark. He’s never been one for art, never understood what people meant by seeing a message in a painting, but as his fingers trace the deep red imprints of his mouth, he understands exactly what this piece of skin says: mine.

His fingers plunge deeper inside your cunt, the steady rhythm driving you wild. He curls them just right, his touch grazing that rough patch inside you that makes you gasp, your breath catching and lips parting. 

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours as he mouths words of praise and instructions. At least, you think he’s mouthing them—your mind is fogged, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure crashing over you, the only sound you can focus on is the buzzing of your orgasm, your cries and the way his name spills from your lips in a frantic, desperate whisper.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmurs when your high starts to fade, voice low with approval. "My good fucking girl."

Maybe it’s the post-climax haze, your mind still swimming in fog, but your arms find their way around Jisung’s neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, just as much as you are—you're not one to initiate, and he hadn’t expected more. He’d already made his point clear: he knows your body, he knows how to make you feel good, how to make you cum.

But here you are, nipping at his lip, devouring his mouth with a hunger that catches you both by suprise. And when you whisper a soft, "Fuck me again, please, Jisung," he's done for.

"My girl is so impatient and greedy, huh?" He tsks, but it's more to regain his composure than anything. He’d almost cum in his pants at the sight of you begging him to fuck you, like some horny teenager. But his determination to prove he’s not the boy you grew up with keeps him grounded.

He hoists you up effortlessly, his hands gripping the underside of your ass as your legs instinctively wrap around his body. With ease, he carries you to the bed, dropping you onto it with a predatory gleam in his eyes. As he climbs over you, his gaze darkens with hunger, every movement clear, saying one thing: he's going to devour you.

"Such a dirty girl, letting your brother’s friend fuck you twice in one night," he teases, his hands slowly working to peel the dress from your body. When he sees you’ve been wearing no bra underneath, your nipples fully exposed and standing at attention instantly, a low curse slips from his lips. 

He could admire your body for hours—he hadn’t had the chance to earlier because the stakes felt higher then. But for you, the moment is urgent. You need him—all of him—inside you, now. Maybe that’s why you decide to taunt him.

“I can always get someone else to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Watch it,” he warns, as his grip tightens on you. His eyes darken with possessiveness, a wave of jealousy flickering in his eyes. The thought of someone else touching you like this, even as a joke, triggers something primal inside him.

Without another word, Jisung sheds his own clothes, hands moving to your thighs, spreading them apart with a firm, controlled movement. His breath hitches as he stares down at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, so fucking his.

“Made to take my cock,” he mutters, giving you a moment to adjust. You nod softly, the sensation of him filling every part of you dulling every lingering ache. 

He circles the head of his cock at your entrance, teasing you as payback for that little comment, before slowly sinking into you, inch by inch. Your eyes roll back at the delicious stretch, your body yielding to him as he fits into you so perfectly. So big, so deep, so yours.

It isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you, balls against your skin, that a groan escapes both of you.

He doesn't hold back, his groans raw and needy. He wants you to hear him—hear how good you make him feel, how desperate he's been for you, for this, how much he’s craved you for years. Every sound, every groan, he wants it etched in your memory. He wants you to remember him when you think about any other man—your first boyfriend, or the guy who took you to prom, and especially the flings you had on spring break.

He wants to be the only man who makes you come apart. The only one you grip with those pretty nails, scraping his back as if marking him, your own little claim to match his purple marks. 

Jisung has always had a soft spot for you, but the way he fucks is anything but soft. This is desperate, driven, a reminder that only he can make you feel this way—only he will. His thrusts are hard, dominating, consuming, each one a claim, marking you as his in the most primal way and you love it.

He knows you love it—the way your pussy clenches around him, fluttering rhythmically, milking his own orgasm from him with every squeeze. Sloppy, deep, and abrupt, his resolve twists tighter inside his stomach. His grip on your hips tightens and he drives into you with relentless, unyielding force, chasing his high. 

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “My pretty girl,” he growls. “Only mine.”

You can barely respond, the pleasure building so intensely that all you can do is cling to him, your fingernails digging into his pale skin, feeling every part of him take control. Each thrust pushes you closer to an edge you’ve never felt before, your stomach coiling tightly, a delicious tension threatening to snap.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice low and filled with heat, his pace never slowing. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath hitches, body trembling as the tension in your core reaches its peak. “Yours,” you whisper, but it’s enough to make him groan in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the world around you blurs as the pleasure overwhelms you. Your body responds, the waves crashing over you as your eyes roll. A choked cry escapes, and a rush of wetness unlike anything you’ve felt before floods your body. 

Your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, but Jisung doesn’t let you hide. He watches you, eyes dark,  filled with awe and pride, as he takes in the fact that he’s the one who’s just made you squirt.

“How’s that for childish?” he murmurs with a smirk, the words dripping with possessiveness.

And with one final thrust, he drives into you, his body shuddering as he reaches his own release, spilling inside of you.

“Oh, and by the way,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear, “there’s no way this is just a one-time thing, Y/N.”

[amyispxnk]

I'd run away and hide with you

Summary - Ellie joins you and Joel on your trek to Jackson. Along the way, your mind gets the better of you, and when you reach Jackson it all comes crashing down.

A/N: i don't have any excuses for why this took so long and im so so sorry guys 😭 2024 was hectic and ive only recently been able to catch up on stuff pls forgive mee

Pairing: platonic/father figure!Joel Miller x f!reader (could probably be read as GN tho?)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, violence, guns, language, PTSD, abuse mentions, panic attack/mental breakdown

Previous Chapter || Series Masterlist

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

You’re getting bad again; that much is visible to him now. But he doesn’t even know what’s wrong this time.

You never open up to him anymore. At the start, you’d tell him everything that was going on in that little head of yours. You’d let him hold you while you cried. You’d always talk to him.

Now you don’t talk and you practically smack yourself in the face whenever you cry, willing the tears away as you bite down on your lip.

It’s been a few months since you left Boston to visit the guys at Lincoln. It was a good trip. After that hiccup at the start, you had pretty much forgotten about your dad; he couldn’t even get to you in your sleep. You spent a lot of time hanging out with Frank whilst Bill and Joel ‘talked business’, and it was pretty fun seeing the little home they had built for themselves in the town - Frank even let you pocket some strawberries, and it was your first time trying them. Safe to say they were fucking amazing, and you told Joel all about it that night. He'd pretend to be annoyed at your incessant rambling but he liked to see you happy, distracted, somewhat.

When you came back, Marlene was bugging Joel about some new smuggling job in exchange for the car battery he’d been searching for and before you knew it, you were back on the road again to bring this kid - Ellie - to the fireflies.

She was a bright, bubbly kid. Constantly talking and telling you and Joel jokes from that damn pun book of hers.

Joel didn’t warm up to her nearly as quickly as you did, and you obviously knew why. You’d been staying with him for almost half a year now, and had gone through a lot of shit with him, so he’d told you about his past. About Sarah.

So you had a hunch that that was why he didn’t open up to Ellie easily. That was why he’d always just grunt at her whenever she asked a question, why he’d practically toss her food at her when she had to eat, why he would barely even acknowledge her.

You could always tell he never meant it though. He didn’t really hate her. He cared about her - that’s just how he was - and it scared him. He was a protector, a fighter, and, most importantly, a father. He basically took you under his wing and gave you all the paternal love you ached for before, and now he had Ellie to look out for too.

But as time went on, you started noticing things. He started laughing at her jokes, or engaging in conversations with her, even telling her about before. You then realised how much it actually pissed you off.

Seeing them getting along made you incredibly jealous. Joel was your protector, your carer, your da..

You shake your head. It still felt weird when you accidentally found yourself thinking of him like that, giving him that name in your head.

It had been a few months since you all left Boston, for good you hoped, you hated that place and all the unfortunate memories you left there, but now you were in the cold and unforgiving state of Wyoming.

Right now you were all huddled around a fire in a little alcove. Joel had some whiskey which he sipped on.. As he talked to Ellie. Fucking Ellie, who was joking around with him, asking him stupid questions about some sheep farm on the moon.

You weren’t paying attention, you didn’t care. You instead chose to stew in your own thoughts which were drifting back to before any of this. You stared into the fire as you remembered the times you were the one making Joel smile, the one he’d hold and comfort, the one he’d talk with at the end of a long day.

He didn’t do all of that with Ellie, but he didn’t do any of it with you anymore, either.

Suddenly, your thoughts go even further back, remembering your father. Remembering the constant screaming which definitely damaged your eardrums by the time you’d left, the incessant beatings you received - at least that taught you first-aid, right? - and the many, many nights spent crying yourself to sleep. You didn’t get to cry in front of your father, knowing he’d only hit you harder for being weak and useless, so you just waited until you were curled up on the little mattress on the floor, your dad already asleep from the alcohol.

You only come back to the present moment when you taste the metal of blood in your mouth. You didn’t remember biting down on your lip but apparently you had been so hard that it made you wince slightly when you pressed your fingers to it.

Joel didn’t notice. He was still talking with Ellie, his eyes soft as he looked at her over the flames.

Jealousy makes tears sting at your eyes. You’d thought finally, finally, you found someone who would actually care about you.

Now you watch bitterly as Ellie makes him laugh more than you’d done in a while, wondering what you did wrong.

-

You were clutching your handgun tight, not feeling safe out in the open like this despite not having encountered any dangers for a good week now. It felt like things were too safe, and you didn’t like it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ellie blowing air through her lips, and it actually kind of annoyed you, because what was she even doing?

Joel asked that question for you.

“What are you doing..?” He sighs heavily, glancing at her, to which she just smirks.

“I’m learning to whistle.” She replies simply.

“You don’t know how to whistle?”

“Does it look like I know how to whistle?” She huffs.

They go back and forth for a little longer, with Joel ending up defeated as Ellie continues her air-blowing, and you find your heart splintering at the sight of them bickering only like father and daughter would. It might not seem like much, but you’ve definitely noticed how Joel’s gotten closer with Ellie over the past few months. It’s upsetting, seeing his natural paternal instincts coming out with her too now.

The three of you make your way past a big dam and arrive at a river, at which point Ellie unhelpfully chirps up.

“Hey, guys, what if this is the river of death?” She jokes, not realising how poor her timing was, for you hear the heavy thuds of horse hooves almost as soon as she finishes her sentence.

“Hands up. Don’t make any sudden movements, or we shoot.” A gruff voice barks out. You know better than to go against what they’ve said, so you turn slowly with your arms raised, and wait for Joel to do any negotiating.

“We ain't lookin’ for any trouble, we’re just passin’ through.” Joel says, keeping his voice strong and unwavering.

“Drop the gun.” The man spits, and Joel slowly does as he says, his eyes wide with panic and betraying the collected and brave persona he attempts to put on when he realises that this might be it.

Ellie looks equally terrified, and you can’t blame her, especially when the man addresses her directly, telling her to step back and away from you.

“How ‘bout we just talk this through-” Joel starts.

“How about you shut the fuck up?” The man’s gun is now raised, and Joel knows better than to argue now, nodding.

The man asks about if any of you are infected, and you feel the dread setting into your bones. Joel tries to diffuse the situation and ease the man’s (unfortunately correct) suspicions, but it’s no use, as he whistles for the sniffer dog.

He offers you a bullet instead, the easy way out, and you all remain silent, panicking further as the dog sniffs you, then Joel, then makes its way to Ellie.

You don’t know where to look, you can see Joel starting to hyperventilate, you can see Ellie’s eyes shining with a terror you’ve never seen her showing before, and you just decide to not look anywhere. You squeeze your eyes shut before-

She’s giggling. Your brows furrow, eyes opening to see Ellie playing with the dog, her face getting licked, and she looks over at the two of you, giving you a sort of ‘how the fuck am I alive’ look, before petting the dog and smiling.

“You just bought yourself 10 more seconds. What’s your business here?” The man shouts, and Joel tells him that he’s looking for his brother, trying to keep things brief.

A lady rides forward, asking Joel for his name. He gives it, and she’s silent, looking around at the three of you and trying to piece things together, before telling you to come with her.

-

Maybe something’s wrong with me, you think, picking at your nails absentmindedly as you trail behind the group - Maria, Joel, Ellie, and Tommy on their little tour of Jackson.

No, something’s definitely wrong with me. Because why else would you be so jealous of them? Of Joel finally finding his brother - another person to drive him away from you - and finally growing closer to Ellie.

Not to mention the way you just fucking clam up any time he asks about it.

Not to mention the way you just let it all build up, suffering in silence, waiting and waiting for the inevitable moment where you break.

You all end up in the dining hall afterwards and, while you’re pissed about everything else, you can’t deny some good food. You almost moan at the taste of proper, seasoned meat after all these months, wolfing it down in similar speed to Ellie and Joel.

“There’s more if you need it.” Maria adds after a few moments of watching you all, no judgement in her tone despite your rough actions.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says, looking up briefly before continuing to eat. “Been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie chimes in, making you clench your jaw. God, even her voice pisses you off. Nobody asked her to talk. “This is amazing.” She mumbles, food in her mouth.

Joel glances at her for a second.

“Sorry.” He tells Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

She doesn’t reply, looking up instead to see a girl watching her behind a pillar.

“What!” She barks, making the girl run away and making you scoff. She glances at you, frowning, before continuing to eat.

You knew she didn’t hate you - you were a good pretender most of the time. Laughing at her jokes, smiling tightly during conversations.. But lately you’d slipped a bit, and she was starting to notice.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel mutters.

“What about her manners?” Ellie spits, always so defensive.

“She was just curious.” Maria soothes, “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” she says, nodding her head slowly, “well maybe I’ll teach them.”

It takes everything in you to not scream. She was annoying you so much. And she was getting all the attention because of her boisterous behaviour. You were sitting there, quietly, calmly, and no one batted an eye at you.

“And I want my gun back.” Ellie argues.

“They also aren’t armed.”

Tommy jumps in, sensing the tension growing even more.

“You know what, uh, I think y’all got off on the wrong foot.” He starts, but the two keep bickering.

Eventually, Tommy reveals that Maria is his wife, and after an eager congrats! from Ellie, and the most forced one possible from Joel, the meal ends.

-

Tommy quickly shows the three of you around the rest of Jackson - Maria chose to stay behind - before leaving you and Ellie in your temporary house, going to have a chat with Joel.

“Soooo.. That was awkward, huh?” She chuckles, trying to joke with you like you used to at the start of all this.

You nod, anger still bubbling up inside of you. You didn’t want to be angry at her, or Joel, even, and you knew if you talked with her for too long you’d just end up yelling at her, so you tried your hardest to keep calm.

She chews on her lip, nodding slowly before starting to ramble about how crazy this town is and how Joel is totally pissed at Tommy.

You keep nodding along, wondering how on Earth she manages to keep going on and on for way too long.

Eventually, she bids you goodbye, going to explore the town.

You wouldn’t want to hang out with yourself either, you think as she closes the door.

-

Joel came back home in the evening, pissed off. You tried saying hi to him, having decided you were done being annoyed at him, but he completely brushed you off before storming upstairs.

Maybe you weren’t making it up. Maybe he did just.. Start hating you.

Ellie’s been in her claimed room for an hour, and the house is quiet until about 10pm. You’re still on the couch, curled up, lost in your thoughts. About Joel, about Ellie, wondering about yourself, too. You were thinking about how nice this town is, how you didn’t want to leave tomorrow at all, but figured you’d definitely have to. You’d have to return to the wasteland outside these walls, and you’d probably never make it back to Jackson.

You’d had too many close calls already. God, or whatever was out there, had probably spared you enough.

Your thoughts spiralled and spiralled until it happened.

Everything came out.

It started with tears, silent as they streamed down your face, before the anger released itself, making you dig your nails into your skin in some final attempt at self-control, before you were storming upstairs.

You throw the door open to Joel’s room, and he blinks at you, having been in bed, probably trying to sleep while you soaked in your misery downstairs.

He’s such a fucking asshole, is all you can think.

“I’m not coming with you tomorrow.” You mutter, surprised you aren’t yelling already.

His brows furrow and he stands up, trying to approach you.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” He says, voice stern and rough.

“You clearly don’t want me around anyway! I’d just be making your life even harder if I came with you. I’ll.. I’ll just go my own way.” You huff, voice quivering towards the end when you realised you’d have to trek this world alone now.

He repeats his previous question and you bury your face in your hands, nails tightening against your fists as you try not to start screaming at him.

“When was the last time we had a proper conversation? Or you asked me how I was doing? Or you hugged me, or anything?! You couldn’t even be bothered to say hi to me earlier, and last night you and Ellie were being buddy-buddy by the fire while I was literally on the verge of tears. You clearly don’t care about me anymore. It’s just her.” You’re shouting now, rage consuming you as you get closer to him, shoving him backwards.

He grabs your arms roughly and you visibly flinch, eyes widening under your furrowed brows as you peer up at him. His face is blurry underneath your tears, and your mind short-circuits.

Your dad is back? Your mind tells you yes. Yes, and you’ve pissed him off now, he’s grabbing you because he’s about to throw you on the floor. You’re always doing something wrong - you should’ve known better than to argue. Only insolent, disgraceful children open their mouths in retaliation. You should respect your father. Now you have to apologise and pray he accepts it.

Immediately you’re cowering. He can’t even get a word out before you start apologising, body trembling as he loosens his grip on you.

“Please, sir, I- I’m so sorry- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- to yell. I’m sorry, I’ll leave, just please d-don’t- please don’t h-urt me-” you choke out, voice raw.

His expression softens, brows knitted in concern now rather than frustration.

“Baby, come here-” he tries to say, but you’re shaking your head, inching further backward until you press against the wall, whimpering when you realise you’re trapped.

Now he’s going to hurt you. Your apologies mean nothing when he gets this mad.

Joel had only grabbed you. It was nothing like the abuse you used to face and yet it was still enough to make you completely crumble.

You sink to the floor, sobbing, still apologising. Ellie’s awake by now, her eyes wide as she listens to what she can make out. What the fuck did he do to you? She’s about to get up, to go and protect you. She doesn’t care if you’d been giving her the cold shoulder for the past few weeks, she doesn’t care if Joel seemed to be giving her the opposite at last. If you’re in trouble and it’s because of him she didn’t fucking care about anything else.

But then she pauses, just outside the door, hearing him cooing at you.

“Calm down honey. It’s okay, it’s me, Joel. Look at me, please.” He murmurs, crouched down in front of you but still giving you some space.

You had your arms raised in front of your face, legs tucked inward, trying to protect yourself from any potential blows, mind still loud and thoughts jumbled, but his voice suddenly helped to clear some of the fog.

You peered at him through the space between your arms and blinked the tears away as best you could.

“..Joel?” You croak after a moment, and he nods, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

“‘S me, sweet girl. Come here.” He opens his arms for you, and you shift closer, still timid and not making that final step.

He sighs softly, not disappointed or annoyed, just sad that your trauma managed to put you in this state.

“It’s just me, okay? It’s Joel, not.. not him. Look at my face, baby.” He whispers, and you do. Your dad wouldn’t call you baby or speak softly with you. Surely this man in front of you wasn’t him.

When you finally recognise him, you feel the tears blooming again, a small whimper escaping your throat before you’re crawling into his lap, clutching him tight. Still apologising, as always.

“Shh, it’s okay. What’s goin’ on, hm?” He says, voice gentle as ever as he holds you. He doesn’t squeeze you tight, or move in any way, he just lets you cling to him. He doesn’t want to suffocate you, knowing you probably already feel like you're drowning, barely tethered to him for support.

“Y-you don’t like me anymore.” You hiccup, and he shakes his head.

“No, sweetheart. Of course I like you. You’re my.. You’re my girl, yeah? Could never hate you.” He murmurs, brows furrowing. Why did you even think that?

“B-but you get on with Ellie way better now, and- and you don’t even talk to me anymore.”

He sighs softly. Ellie was.. A chatty kid. If she didn’t start all those conversations with him, he doubts he would’ve engaged with her nearly half as much as he did. He had grown to enjoy her ramblings, of course, but he was too stressed, anxious all the time on the road, to ever actually start the chats with her or you. He realises now how that would’ve looked to you, understands the emotional breakdown you’d just had, understands why you’d been so quiet recently.

You thought he didn’t want you anymore.

He gently pulls your head back, tilting it up so you could meet his eyes. His thumb catches a tear before it can fall and he starts explaining.

“Babygirl, I wasn’t not talkin’ to ya as much cuz I didn’t like ya. I was just stressed.. Too focused on gettin’ us across the country in one piece to worry about conversations. Ellie’s.. a bit of a chatterbox so of course I had to be respondin’ with her, but..” he trails off, guilt consuming him more and more as he tries to reason with himself. Yes he was nervous but that’s no excuse for the state his negligence has landed you in.

“Fuck, there ain’t no excuse, really. I just.. Please, please believe me right now. I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t hate you and I never ever could, okay?” He pleads, eyes searching yours for any sort of understanding or forgiveness.

He definitely doesn’t see hatred there like he’d seen when you first stormed up here, no, he just sees confusion, worry.

“You really don’t hate me? Even- even after I gave you so much attitude and I was shouting at you? Surely I deserve.. You shouldn’t be being nice to me…” You whisper, brows furrowing, confused at the fact someone was apologising to you. Normally you were the one apologising. He’d been the only person to ever show you compassion and understanding, and you thought, surely you’ve fucked it all up now.

He sighs again, shaking his head. “I could never ever hate you, honey. Never. No matter what you do or say to me, I can promise you hatred would never even cross my mind.”

You whimper again, nodding. “Okay.” Is all you can get past your lips, your body shaking with sobs again as he finally allows himself to hug you properly, rocking you back and forth and stroking your hair.

He isn’t surprised when you fall asleep like this, curled up in his arms. You’ve exhausted yourself in every way tonight, and you deserve a good, long rest.

He grunts softly as he stands up, still keeping you clutched in his arms as he makes his way to the bed and sets you down. He’ll take the couch, he figures. His back is fucked already.

But then you stir a little, blinking up at him as he watches you.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“Can.. can you please stay tonight? I just.. I’m…” You can’t get the words out, but he understands. He knows what you need.

He gets in beside you, kissing your forehead after you cuddle up to him and drift off slowly, blanketed by his comforting presence, your mind a little less stormy with his reassurances now there instead.

Sleep evades him for much longer, though, distant memories of Sarah swirling within his mind. He wonders what she’d think of him, of you, of the way he’s taken you in like this. Would she be proud? Would she be angry? Would she feel like he’s replaced her?

He shakes his head, knowing that those thoughts would just cause him to distance himself from you again.

He finally manages to fall asleep at 2am, dreaming of Christmas trees and a little girl with curly hair.

Tysm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Tags - @tbeep @rosierogie @jjlevin @axshadows @pedropascalsbbg @pedroshotwifey @pedrosfanny @s0meoone

[monkey-overalls]

MelJayVik Baking Headcanons

I’ve been watching so many baking shows recently I NEED to project onto my blorbos:

Jayce and Viktor once binged so long the sunlight hurt when they finally left their room. They claimed it was because they were “up late experimenting with the latest HexTech designs,” but when Mel asked them to elaborate, they just stood there blubbering like fish.

“I won’t tell the anyone… if you promise to invite me next time”

They watch baking shows like it’s the Super Bowl—betting on who they think is going to win, yelling at the screen when they disagree with the judges, etc.

Mel was a celebrity guest on one of these shows once, and Jayce just about lost his mind (he’s not jealous she was picked and not him, nope, definitely not).

They not only love watching people bake, but enjoy making things themselves.

Jayce is the best of the three. It started when he was a kid; peeking into the kitchen, tasting the batter, handing his mother ingredients (he loves feeling useful). Then it evolved into trying to bake something on his own, and eventually it became his go-to way of showing Ximena his gratitude for all that she does for him. He mostly sticks to the recipe book, but occasionally throws in his own personal touches.

Mel is the second best. She got into baking, like painting, as a way of expressing herself outside her status. Of course, she could have people bake for her, paint for her, work for her, but she loves the freedom that comes with doing things on her own. Living under the strict, militaristic thumb of her mother, she was never allowed such frivolous hobbies back in Noxus… that all changes now. These desserts are like a second canvas to her, and Jayce and Viktor are always the first to taste them.

Viktor is learning to bake from Jayce. Being from the Undercity, he was usually responsible for his own wellbeing—including meals—but with what limited money and resources he had access to, treats were a luxury he could rarely afford. He often switches between following the recipe and spontaneity (you can tell which is which by how deflated the cake is in the tray). He’s a fast learner, though, and has started taking notes whenever they watch shows.

I love them so much guys,,,

[jjscrybaby]

A request for JJ!!

I was thinking something kinda angst. So JJ hates the reader and she hates him. They both think each other has a great life and is jealous. But maybe one day on her usual bike ride around the cut, y/n sees JJ’s dad get aggressive with him and realises how JJ’s life is hard. But she doesn’t go to help because she was scared. Feeling bad that she didn’t help she wonders around and she goes home late which results in an argument with her mom. At that time JJ was doing a delivery with Pope and hears and sees everything and when y/n is outside walking around trying to calm herself down and distract from the pain she accidentally bumps into JJ and they have a talk.

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (luke maybank being an ass, reader’s mom is also an ass, overall just bad parents!)

not proofread and written at 6am so my bad if there’s any mistakes 🤗

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One of the main differences between you and JJ were your social status’. JJ came from the Cut, he grew up catching his own food, roaming the streets at the age of seven without a care in the world, stealing just to get by. You grew up on Figure Eight, you never had to lift a finger, your parents never had to worry about where their next pay check was coming from. He was jealous.

JJ grew up with freedom, with a group of friends he called his family, he never had to worry about grades or being perfect because no one cared if he was. You grew up with snobby rich kids as the only people you could hang out with, your mom dictated everything you did down to the clothes you’d wear to the mall, you felt embarrassed to even leave the house if your hair was slightly greasy. You were jealous.

You’d known JJ Maybank since you were a kid, you went to the same Elementary school and then over the years you’d see each other at parties or at the club where he worked. There wasn’t ever something that happened that gave you both a reason to hate the other, you just did.

Something your parents were definitely not aware of was the route you’d take on your weekly bike ride. You needed an escape from the ‘perfect’ life, so at least once a week you’d take your little pink bicycle and you’d ride around the Cut. You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to it in the first place, especially after the horror stories you’d grown up hearing, but you always felt calm when you rode around with your AirPods in.

It was about six o’clock, you were supposed to be home for dinner in an hour because your father had some clients coming over and you were wanted as well. You were about to head back home when the sound of yelling caught your attention. You turned round the corner, standing still at the end of the street.

“You smell like a damn bar!” It was JJ. You didn’t know he lived here, but then again why would you? You weren’t friends. There was an older man stumbling after him, following the blonde down the porch steps.

“Ain’t that rich comin’ from you?” The man, who you assumed was non other than Luke Maybank, snorted.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” JJ scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at his dad.

“Means you ain’t better than me, kid. It’s in your blood, you’re a Maybank,” Luke mocked.

You could see JJ shake his head, a scowl on his face that was hiding the hurt he felt. “I’m nothin’ like you. And I never will be.”

“Say whatever you want, don’t make it true,” Luke shrugged, taking a sip from the beer that you hadn’t noticed was in his hand. “Where the fuck you goin’, anyways? Ain’t been home in weeks.”

Weeks? You had heard the stories about Luke, the robberies and the bar fights, but you didn’t think he’d treat his own son like this. He spoke to him as if he was a stranger, as if he couldn’t care less about him.

“Yeah, and I shouldn’t have bothered coming back at all,” JJ stated, turning to continue walking away. Luke grabbed his arm, yanking him back and holding him in place. “Get the fuck off me, man!”

“Gotta show some respect, Jay!” Luke yelled, making you flinch.

Why were the neighbours not coming out? Why hadn’t anyone done something about this? You felt sick, and you felt even worse when you got on your bike and rode away before you had to see how this ended.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“You alright?” JJ hated that question, especially when he knew why it was being asked. The shiner that he sported now. Pope looked at him sympathetically, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m fine. Ready to get some good tips,” JJ shrugged, taking the grocery bags from his hands. “Who orders food at eight o’clock?”

“Rich people,” Pope muttered. “Don’t lose any of that shit.“

“Yeah, yeah.”

JJ walked to your house, he knew it was yours from the last name above the slip of paper Pope had given him. He was starting to walk up the driveway when he heard the noise coming from the open front door.

“I told you to be here by seven! It’s half past!” Your mother exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

“I— I got held up, I’m sorry.” He’d never heard you sound so small. Usually, when the two of you got at each other’s throats at a Kegger, you’d stand your ground without a care in the world. It was one of the only things he respected about you.

“Held up with what?” Your mom scoffed. He could see through the cracks in the bushes that she was shaking her head, looking disappointed.

“It’s just dinner, mom. I don’t need to be here,” you tried to argue.

“Well, I’ve already told the Henderson’s that you aren’t home. So, therefore, you will not be home. Don’t come back until they’re gone,” she stated.

“What? Mom. I haven’t got anywhere to go,” you exclaimed, voice wavering.

The door closed in your face and you let out a shaky sigh. You’d been preoccupied, feeling guilty for not sticking up for JJ, so you’d gotten home a little later than planned. Was it really that big of a deal? Tears fell as you wandered back down your driveway, trying to think of where the hell you can go.

“Uh, hey.” You flinched in shock, turning to see JJ lurking by the bushes with two grocery bags.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked quietly.

“Delivery,” he explained.

“Right, well, I can’t take it,” you muttered. “Just go knock.”

“Wait there.” You weren’t sure why you did what he said, but it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. You stood and waited, watching as he left the bags on your front door step and knocked before coming back; he didn’t even wait for a tip. “C’mon.”

The two of you walked through Figure Eight in silence, him puffing on his vape every now and then whilst you tried not to burst into tears. “I saw you and your dad, earlier.”

“What?” He turned to look at you in confusion.

“Outside your house.”

“Why were you outside my house?” He asked.

“I wasn’t, I just happened to be going past,” you explained. You bit your nails before speaking again, letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s an ass.”

Surprisingly, JJ let out a chuckle. He nodded his head. “Yeah, he is. So is your mom.” You giggled, agreeing with him. “Guess we both have shitty parents, huh?”

“Seems like it,” you shrugged. “Never thought we’d have something in common.”

“You know, my friend, John B, his house is sorta the hangout for kids with shitty parents. Did you want to… you could come over, until you can go back home,” JJ offered. He sounded anxious, as if he was asking you on a date.

You found yourself nodding your head, shyly smiling at him. “Yeah, just until I can go back home.”

You didn’t go home, instead you spent the night chatting shit about your mom with JJ whilst he rambled about his dad. You ended the night in his bed, laid on his chest as the two of you shared a joint. You didn’t feel so jealous anymore, and you were certain he didn’t either.

[ak319]

Yan G!P athlete x fem!reader

── Reece Milford

Headcanon/Intro

AN: She's here finally-ヽ（≧□≦）ノfor those of you who don't know her, she's a side character from this series.

Warnings/MDNI: none, not much in this one tho, little age gap, (reader is 20 and OC is 23-24), suggestive themes.

Where do I even begin? Reece Milford, daughter of Edward Milford, a respected real estate mogul, and Catherine Milford, a poised philanthropist who runs a foundation supporting arts and culture. Then there’s Oliver, her older brother, a sharp and ambitious lawyer. Reece is the middle child, flanked by Lily, her sweet and free-spirited younger sister. The Milford family is as sophisticated as they come each member’s life is meticulously curated, their names whispered in the circles that matter.

But Reece? She’s different. Her story doesn’t follow the same predictable trajectory. It’s on the cricket field where she truly stands out. What started at high school with local matches soon spiraled into her securing a spot on the country’s national team. The media adores her, sophisticated, charming, a heartthrob on the pitch.

In high school, it was no secret that Reece had girls vying for her attention left and right. She didn’t even have to try, her height, athletic build, and effortless charm made her magnetic. But to Reece, they were just passing faces. Sure, she’d engage in lighthearted flirting now and then, but that was the extent of it. She wasn’t interested in dating, and playing around simply wasn’t her thing. Not like... a certain someone in her circle, but that was a story for another time (lmao- we all know who that is-)

Reece had always been the type to joke a little about girls, her teasing never crossing the line of respect. But if locker room talk ever got out of hand? That’s when her temper flared. She had no patience for that kind of nonsense, and more than a few people learned the hard way not to push their luck. She wasn’t just protecting some abstract principle, either, it hit close to home. With a little sister of her own, she refused to let anyone think it was okay to disrespect women.

Despite her grounded nature, rumors swirled around her. Whispers of Reece being a "playgirl" spread through jealous lips or from the sting of rejected love letters. None of it was true, of course, but she never wasted time defending herself. She knew who she was, and that was enough. Let people believe what they wanted, she had more important things to focus on.

But....despite this Reece held very specific views about women and love, and any notions of "dating" seemed trivial in the face of her goals.

As for family life, Reece barely spent quality time with her parents, especially her mother. While her dad was often caught up in his business dealings, her mom, Catherine, had thrown herself into her foundation. Prior to that, Catherine had been a full-time housewife, focused on raising the children. Reece had often been the one to suffer from the absence, not having the constant presence of her mother like Oliver did, and now, Lily didn’t have to face the same issues either. With her mom now running a larger foundation and becoming more involved with social media and community work, Catherine had less on her plate. She got to spend more time with Lily. But Reece, as the middle child, felt somewhat forgotten as she didn't experience that with Catherine as a kid and now was often at odds with her parents, especially her mother.

As time went on, Reece's views began to shift. She became firm in her belief that women should focus on the home, that their place was to care for children, nurture the family, and run the household. To her, the idea of being a "housewife" wasn’t a limitation, it was a duty, a role that held strength in its own right. Reece swore to herself that no matter what, she would never allow her wife to treat their children the way she had felt, neglected, forgotten, caught in the emotional distance of a career-driven mother.

Though the trio never discussed this but it was clear that her brother Oliver didn’t share her views, nor did her father, but that only made her resolve harder. She knew what she believed, and she was determined to make it a reality.

But the question lingers: what’s happening off the field? What happens behind the polished exterior of this icon of strength and good sportswomanship.

The truth? It’s you. Yes, you entered the picture.

Who are you, exactly?

You were just a mutual friend of Lily’s. Yes, when you and Lily grew close, you often found yourself invited to sleepovers at the Milford estate, something Lily loved, especially since their mansion was so vast, offering plenty of room for laughter and whispered secrets. It wasn’t uncommon for you to join, and given how the family was a bit overprotective of Lily, she rarely stayed at anyone else’s house.

She couldn’t explain why, but when she caught that brief glimpse of you, how shy and nervous you seemed in her presence, it made her chuckle, and something fluttered in her chest.

When you and her first saw each other in the hallway for the first time, you had just started college. Reece was 23, still grinding away in small leagues, always pushing herself, always working tirelessly with the hope of making it onto the national team. She had no interest in distractions, not in the form of dates or anything else. Her focus was singular, her ambitions far too important.

After that, she almost forgot about you. But then one night, when Lily thought everyone was settled in their rooms, preparing for bed, she saw the perfect opportunity to sneak out at 10 p.m. She assumed Reece was out with her friends, leaving the coast clear. But imagine her shock when, as you were backing your car out of the driveway, Reece suddenly pulled up and spotted Lily sitting in the passenger seat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Reece snapped, her voice cutting through the night air. “Why were you sneaking out, huh?”

"J-just to grab a bite, Reece. Nothing else-" Lily stammered, her voice trembling under the intensity of Reece’s gaze.

Reece’s eyes flickered to you, and her expression hardened. She stepped closer, her tone sharp and commanding. “And you!” she barked, making your body flinch involuntarily. “What example are you setting here? She has a curfew for a reason.”

“But we’re 20, not 15,” You spoke up and she was almost shocked at your unexpected retort but her anger overpowered her.

Reece’s gaze didn’t waver. “Listen to me here,” she said, her voice low but laced with authority. She took a few steps closer, towering over both of you, her eyes never leaving yours. “First of all, this is our family, and you have no say in what we do. It’s never safe out there, and considering your background, it’s clear your parents never bothered to teach you even the basics-”

“How dare you!” You snapped, a surge of anger flooding your chest. “God! Lily, you never told me your sister was such a jerk!” Her words really stung, aimed directly at your middle-class background.

“Well, now you know.” You could feel the hurt rising in your chest, but you didn’t fight it. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked back to the car, your emotions bubbling over.

"Wait no! (Y/N)! I AM SORRY- REECE WHAT THE FUCK?!-" Lily's protests and apologies were blocked as you slammed your door and sped off.

It was a mistake. A mistake to be friends with someone like Lily, someone from a world so different from yours. Your heart ached as you drove, the weight of the words hanging heavily in the air. You cried all the way home, the tears blurring your vision, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t Lily’s fault. She had always been kind, humble, everything you admired. But Reece? She was a jackass.

Lily’s calls and messages flooded your phone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The hurt was too fresh, too raw.

Back at the Milford house, things weren’t any better. Lily, devastated by your silence, found herself hating her sister even more.

“You ruined our fucking friendship!” Lily shouted, her voice thick with frustration and hurt.

“I ruined it?!” Reece shot back, incredulous. Her voice grew louder, her anger flaring. “You’re blaming me for this?”

"You shouldn’t have been so rude to her!” Lily’s words hit hard, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

"Yeah , Reece, you shouldn't have said that to her."

"Dad, please- don't side with Lily on this one. I was just pissed and I said it! And next time she will think twice before-"

"You don’t get to dictate everything, including who I’m friends with! You can’t just go around hurting people like this!"

Before Reece could respond, Lily threw her hands up in exasperation. “I never asked for this! I never wanted you to act like this!”

With a sharp exhale, Lily stormed past her sister, her anger making the house feel smaller. She marched down the hallway, her footsteps heavy as she slammed the door to her room behind her.

Reece stood there, stunned, a mixture of regret and disbelief flickering across her face. But Lily didn’t give her the chance to apologize, she was already alone in her room, seething.

“You need to apologize to your sister, Reece. We didn’t raise you to be rude, especially to a girl. You need to apologize to both of them.” Her mother’s voice rang out, sharp and disapproving.

Yeah, right, Mom. 'Raise,' my ass.

With a bitter scoff, Reece stormed off, slamming her bedroom door behind her. She flopped onto her bed, pulling a ball from the corner of the room. Without a second thought, she tossed it up and down, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought. It was a habit she had whenever she was deep in contemplation or feeling the weight of stress, letting the ball float in the air, caught only by her tired hands.

Her mind shifted from wondering how to apologize to her little sister, to a sudden, unexpected realization, how the hell was she supposed to apologize to you?

What the fuck?

She had never apologized to anyone, ever. And you...

A part of her knew that she wasn’t just pissed at you for sneaking out with Lily, but because you had no regard for your own safety either. That’s what really made her angry. You were driving here alone, just... She took it the worst way. She focused her frustration on you.

And yet, there was something else, something that amused her. How you’d gone from the shy, skittish girl, who ran off to hide in Lily’s room the moment she saw her in the hallway, to this... straight-talking, confident version of yourself.

Cute...

"You think a takeout is gonna make things right?" Lily said, scrolling through reels on her phone.

"I’ve ordered gifts for you too."

"Don’t need ‘em."

Reece set the food down on the bedside table and sat on her bed, a hint of determination settling in.

"Give me her number."

"What?"

"I need to apologize to her. (Y/N). Give me her number. Now."

Lily hesitated, sensing the mix of gentleness and firmness in Reece’s tone. With a sigh, she sent the number to Reece’s phone.

"But... I don’t think she’ll forgive that easily. And for fuck’s sake, don’t say anything stupid. She finally went normal with me, and I don’t want you messing that up again-"

"I won’t, jeez. Eat up now."

With that, Reece walked out, unable to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips as she saved your number.

────

You were, as usual, putting the clothes in their proper places, mentally planning to get started on your assignment as soon as you got to your apartment after your shift at the boutique. Okay, next, check the bags...

"Hey."

You flinched and turned around to see Reece. You didn’t say anything, just stared at her.

"Um... I wanted to sincerely apologize... for, well, since you didn’t respond to my message-"

"So you came to my workplace?"

"I had to, okay? I just didn’t want to be the reason you have any sour feelings toward my family... or even Lily."

"I don’t," you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your heart was still racing. "I mean, they’re all very nice."

They.....Not me, huh? Don't you have a way with words...

She chuckled, clicking her tongue as she restrained herself from checking you out. Fuck, get a hold of yourself.

"I understand. I’m a jackass, a jerk, a douche. Valid. I deserve that. But please, don’t make your pretty face devoid of that smile because of me."

Okay, that took you off guard.

"Um-"

"I'll be right back, okay?" With that, she stalked off somewhere in the shop. You rolled your eyes, already knowing exactly what type of person she was: rich family, big ego--oh a customer!

Minutes later, while you were helping a woman, she popped back in, several bags in her hands, bags from not only the brand you worked for, but others around the street as well.

"Here. For you."

"What?! I’m not taking this-"

"Yes, you are. You definitely are. A token of my apology."

Every item cost more than your monthly rent. Though you were kind of touched, you reminded yourself that, at the end of the day, she had once again proved, even in her apology, that she was better than you. Yes, that’s what you felt. If she had just walked away after apologizing, that would have been enough.

"No, I am definitely not."

That took her off guard. Didn’t girls love expensive stuff?

"The apology was enough, alright? I get it, you’re rich and stuff. But you don’t need to prove your sincerity. I get it. You’re protective of Lily; she’s told me that. No need for these. Please."

Hm...

"I-I get it." Did you just fucking stutter in front of a girl, Reece? You loser.

"Um, thank you for accepting it." Her voice softened, but inside, a new thought took root.

Fuck these gifts anyway. You’re going to get that fucking ring on your damn finger, no matter what. She’ll make that happen. No way you're going to reject that.

That night her eyes had lit up when she saw that you had seen her message at least.

────

What you didn't expect was a notification pinging on your phone the next day.

"Hey, wanted to ask, can I at least take you out? A little compensation for that late grab bite you missed with Lily."

You raised an eyebrow at the text. The pickup line was casual, playful even, but something in it made your stomach twist. Was she trying to make this seem like no big deal? You sighed, knowing there was a lot more to it.

Should you ask Lily about this? She might know what was really going on....

You quickly typed a response, trying to play it off lightly.

"Hi, thanks, but it’s fine really. I’m good."

You sent it before you could second-guess yourself. But as soon as you hit send, a sense of dread crept in. Was that too dismissive? Was it rude? You didn’t want to come off that way, but this whole situation felt... off.

Reece, however, wasn’t the type to take “no” for an answer. She knew that Lily was a factor in all of this. But Reece wasn't the kind of person who let things like that stop her. No, she was determined to make sure you knew how serious she was.

"Reece, c'mon. (Y/N) just told me that-"

"Yeah, so?" Reece cut her off, a sharp edge to her voice. "Can't see your sister settling down, huh?"

The insult was quick and biting, catching Lily off guard. She flinched, a mix of confusion and anger flashing across her face.

"Settling down-?! And you? Look as much as I want to believe you saying that you don't engage in casual flings, I still find it unbelievable." Lily sputtered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Reece’s eyes darkened. "Listen here, I really, really like her, Lily. Not that you’d understand what that feels like. And don't tell me you believe everything they spewed about me. I thought you knew it."

Lily's face flushed, hands balling into fists. "No you don’t! You don’t even know what love is, it’s probably just lust, the same way you feel for every other girl-"

"Lily!" Edward spoke up, his voice firm but patient. "Can you relax? There's nothing wrong with going on a date. You should be a tad bit supportive, love. And stop doubting Reece's intentions."

"But Dad!" Lily's voice cracked with frustration. "What if she hurts (Y/N)? Didn't she had a problem with her background in the first place?"

"Enough!. I will go on a date and you can't stop me!"

Neither can you.

Oliver sighed sharing a look with his mother, leaning back in his chair, his fingers rubbing his temples. "Weekend with family always has some drama going on," he muttered, half-amused, half-exasperated.

Lily felt bad...she did. Guilty for being dubious about Reece's intentions straight from the start. You are a good, kind and fun person, not to mention her very close friend. And so she decided to make things right...by texting you.

"Reece really really likes you, and trust me, she's serious about this. I've never seen or heard bout her being this interested in someone, LIKE EVER. It's always the opposite. So do give her a chance. If you want to of course . Tbh shippin' u both already. 😛

That very Sunday's quiet evening, a knock on your apartment door caught you off guard. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not Reece. You opened the door cautiously, your heart sinking at the sight of her standing there, casual yet somehow imposing.

"Hey," she greeted with that trademark confidence that made your chest tighten, her smile a little too knowing. "Lily told me your address."

You froze for a second, trying to process the words, before realizing the implications. "Lily... told you?" you asked, though it came out more as a question to herself than to Reece. Of course, Lily had probably shared everything already.

"Yeah," Reece said, unbothered, her gaze steady. "I thought we could grab something light and simple. Just...it won't be long."

You stood there, conflicted. She had this way of making you feel as if saying no would be an impossibility. "Reece, I..." you started, but her eyes softened, and she took a small step forward, clearly unphased by your hesitation.

"Come on, just a little something. I won’t make it weird," she added, the final words almost playful, though there was something in the way she said it that made you question if you’d be able to say no.

You bit your lip, glancing back into your apartment. But what choice did you have? Saying no felt like inviting a new round of awkwardness, and she seemed determined. Besides, there was a part of you, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, that was curious about why Reece kept pushing. Also the fact you didn't have any experience dating. And then...Lily's message made your heart flutter too.

"Okay," you finally relented, your voice a little quieter than you intended. "But just a quick bite. That’s it."

A victorious smile spread across her face, her posture shifting from relaxed to almost predatory, but in a playful way. "Great," she said, turning on her heel. "Let’s go."

And that's how it began. You, dating Reece Milford.

────

Dating her was nothing short of a dream, really. She was caring, understanding, and, if you were honest, a total golden retriever in human form. Watching matches together, her dragging you to her practices while making you wear her shirts with her name.

She was protective, sometimes to the point of being a bit too much, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it was endearing in its own way. And if someone from high school or an old fling tried their luck again with a call or a text? Oh, they didn’t stand a chance. Without hesitation, she’d block them or, better yet, hand you her phone and insist you respond or answer the call with a simple, "She’s taken."

She recorded one of those moments once, and to this day, it’s still her favorite video. Even when you’re a bit shy and clearly embarrassed in it, she treasures it like gold, replaying it whenever she needs a smile.

She knows her family name intimidates you and she’s painfully aware that her own words might’ve made you feel insecure at times. That’s why now, every moment she spends with you is dedicated to ensuring you understand that her last name means absolutely nothing when it comes to you.

She goes out of her way to make it clear that her family adores you, too. In fact, she’s quick to remind you of how her mom can’t stop asking about your hobbies or how her dad brings up your name during family dinners like you’re already one of them.

And then there’s your own parents. Your dad, especially, was practically beaming when he found out you were dating a daughter of such a prestigious family in the city. She teases you about it sometimes, calling you her “mom's favorite,” but deep down, she loves how everyone can see what she already knew: you’re perfect for her, and no family name, no status, could ever change that.

You glance at your reflection in the car window for what feels like the hundredth time. The dress you’re wearing, a simple but elegant number Reece insisted looked "absolutely stunning" on you, suddenly feels all wrong. Too plain? Too tight? Too loose? Too… not enough?

Reece parks the car in front of the grand gates of her family’s estate, but instead of stepping out, you sit frozen, clutching your bag like it’s a lifeline.

“Hey,” Reece’s voice is soft, her hand finding yours. “You good?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to admit the truth. But she knows you too well, and the furrow of her brow tells you she’s already figured out something’s off.

“I just…” You let out a shaky sigh, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I don’t know if I’m… if I look… right for this. For them.”

Reece is quiet for a moment, and when you finally glance at her, you see her jaw tighten, her hazel eyes narrowing like she’s preparing to fight someone.

“Are you serious right now?” she asks, her voice a mix of disbelief and affection. “You’re worried about how you look?”

You nod hesitantly, avoiding her gaze. "I just… your family’s um so perfect y'know. I just..."

Reece leans back in her seat, running a hand through her hair as if trying to figure out how to respond. Her heart breaks at your sullen expression. Then, without warning, she reaches over, cupping your face gently but firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“First of all,” she says, her voice low and steady, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and always will be, and nothing anyone says or thinks is going to change that. Got it?”

You nod, though her words only make your throat tighten more.

“Second,” she continues, her thumb brushing your cheek, “my family is going to love you because I love you. And if they don’t, that’s their problem, not yours. You’re not the one who has to prove anything. You’re everything, okay?”

You manage a shaky smile, but she’s not done yet.

“And third…” She grins now, her usual playful smirk returning as she presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “If anyone even thinks about making you feel out of place tonight, they’re getting an earful from me. Got it?”

You laugh softly despite yourself, and she beams at the sound, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“There’s my girl,” she says, squeezing your hand as she steps out of the car and moves to your side to help you out. “Now come on. Let’s show them how lucky I am, yeah?”

Reece is not only your girlfriend but your own personal trainer too.

Her apartment’s (she made you move in after a month) personal gym has become your second home, or, at least, that’s what she likes to say while dragging you out of bed for "just twenty minutes of movement."

"C'mon baby, you can skip ten more. You are literally the strongest person I've met." Says your girlfriend currently bench pressing twice your weight.

She’s the kind of person who genuinely believes in balance but refuses to compromise on some essentials. Like fruits. Every. Single. Day. She’ll hand-feed you slices of apple or shove a peeled orange into your hands with a pointed look until you take a bite.

Her healthy meals aren’t just food; they’re little love notes wrapped in nutrition. Protein shakes? Homemade. Greek yogurt with berries? Perfectly portioned. Occasionally, though, she’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks because, as she says, "You’ve earned it for putting up with my bossy ass."

On the days when you feel too lazy to move, Reece doesn’t push. Instead, she adapts. She insists you keep her company in the gym because "your laugh is better than any playlist." You end up sitting on the mat with a bowl of fruit she force-feeds you because of course, “You will finish that, or so help me”, while she works out.

And if you’re feeling extra lazy, you’ll drape yourself over her back while she’s doing push-ups, giggling as she huffs and teases you about being "the cutest weight she’s ever lifted."

What makes it all worthwhile is how much she genuinely enjoys your presence. Whether you’re crushing a workout together or just lounging on the floor, her gaze always holds the same message: she wouldn’t want to be doing this or anything without you.

Reece absolutely adores the height difference between the two of you, maybe a little too much, if you’re being honest. It’s her favourite excuse to treat you like her personal doll.

When she’s in a playful mood (which is often), she’ll suddenly scoop you up, spinning you around effortlessly until you’re laughing and swatting at her arms. “Put me down, Reece!” you’ll protest, but she just smirks and says, “Not until I hear that laugh again!”

And those moments when you two disagree? She’s terrible at taking you seriously. You’re standing there, ranting about whatever it is, but all she can focus on are your eyes, especially the way they narrow when you’re annoyed.

"Are you even listening to me?!" you demand, glaring up at her.

She should be, but instead, she’s trying not to grin like an idiot. “Hmm? Oh, sorry, your angry face is just too cute."

That, of course, makes you even more pissed, which only makes her love it more. "Can you for God's sake listen and take the shit I am saying seriously?!"

Eventually, she stops your words in the most Reece way possible: by sweeping you off your feet (literally) and carrying you to the bedroom.

“REECE PUT ME DOWN! WHAT THE HELL?!”

"Yeah, yeah," she says, laying you down gently before hovering over you with a mischievous grin.

She starts peppering kisses all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, lips, your nose, until you’re squirming and trying to push her away through your laughter.

"Stop it! You idiot!"

“There’s that smile,” she says triumphantly, finally stopping but not before stealing one last kiss on your lips. “Mad at me now?”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. "I just hate you sometimes!"

Speaking of you and the bed... Reece is an absolute softie when it comes to you. No matter how tough or confident she might seem to the rest of the world, with you, she's nothing but gentle, which sometimes is really hard for her to do when all she wants to do is wreck and eat you all up. During those intimate moments, she treats you like you're made of glass, careful, attentive, utterly devoted. And afterward, when she's finally worn herself out, she holds you close, her arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from everything else.

Hearing her teammates call her "Cap" during practice or games might boost her ego, sure. But it doesn’t even come close to the power trip she feels when she hears it from your lips, soft, breathless, or even better as a whimper, and just for her.

“Say it again,” she murmurs, her voice raspy and low, her gaze heavy-lidded as she brushes a stray strand of hair from your flushed face.

And when you do, she smirks like she’s just won a championship. To her, nothing else in the world compares to that moment, to you.

But not everything...is that easy right? Not this dreamy. And you realized this after you got the ring on your finger after 2 absolutely beautiful months together.

── AN: Dw, there will be a second headcanon or different scenarios showing Reece's toxic side as well.

[cotton-could]

What's up with Berry?

I was always interested in Berry because it's odd how an imaginary friend is as violent as her but she's the only character who made no implication of her previous owner nor revealed any information about her. We know NOTHING about her. Not her past, her life, her owner, her depth, NADA!

And since imaginary friends represent the back of the creator's mind, Berry probably represented the personification of a clingy, jealous and lonely child who didn't got much attention.

Anytime Bloo notices her or compliments her, she gets head over heels over it which seems funny because of how she thinks he wants her for barely noticing her but it gets sad when you think that the kid probably didn't received much love and that getting a basic compliment must be something unreachable to them and the fact that Berry is so obsessed with getting Bloo's aproval and attention shows a broken self esteem from the creator who probably wanted someone's aproval and attentiom to feel loved.

And in that regard, she's very similar to Bloo. Both have self esteem issues who gets jealous of someone who gets the attention and love they deeply wanted and doesn't know how to express it so they act in the wrong way, however, Bloo admits his mistakes and makes up for it while Berry doesn't. I like to think that they're 2 sides of the same coin.

[kinokoshoujoart]

the coolest kids in forgotten valley!!☆

(…it seems there may have been a stretch of time where rock and lumina were the only kids in forgotten valley…🥲)

poseref

[anthromimicry]

jandy nelson, i'll give you the sun | jean anouilh tr, by lewis galantière | @soulinkpoetry | trista mateer, the dogs i have kissed | the bible

[weirfq1]

with all these gaston crackships/rarepairs that are coming out lately it would be so fucking funny if he had a flig with all the main characters (ambar, nina, simon... hell luna too if you want) and they all know it except matteo

[marsixm]

i also think the fact that i had such a stunted and isolated upbringing and now that im an adult all my friends are on atypical life paths (and honestly even my friends as a kid were like this too) means i find things that are usually very common life stages really interesting. like knowing someone who has a house and a wife and 2 kids (with that wife) and a job with a salary feels like meeting fucking paul bunyun to me. or hearing the kids i work with talk about graduating high school and going to college and being on a real path with that stuff is neat? or even sometimes knowing cis/het people who are like going thru that coming of age stuff that i never really experienced the way you see it in the movies bc of transness/queerness/neurodivergence. its like woah they said the name of the thing in the thing. do u know what i mean???

[disaster-magician]

Step 2 mc ramblings woo!! Um, some things about mcs feeling anxiety, depression, insecurity, and rebellion, but I don't think there's anything too heavy! I promise all of them feel better and do have SOME happy moments in step 2 haha

Here's their step 1 ramblings below if you'd like to check that out as well! 😊

Nova Grace "Gracie" Woods. They are questioning their gender and use They/She pronouns. Sprite is slightly edited to give her a second lobe piercing and make the headband go behind their bangs bc that bothered the shit outta me. (Check out my pinned post to see the absolutely perfect full body refs of her I commed from Sunny 🫶🏾💕)

She hides a lot of herself that they fear are childish, only really feeling able to be themselves around Tama and Qiu. She still enjoys cartoons and has a special interest in space, but has taken up band(Percussion! What loud instruments for someone so quiet, who would have guessed?) and writing as well as still being an avid reader. They've done a complete 180 on scary things as well, now loving horror movies and games. Those things frighten her much less than they did as a kid now that she's dealt with the way scarier world of high school and trying to fit in.

Her Qiu has long hair with both accessories, and Tama has short hair with the headband!

Still as shy and nervous as ever, Nova goes through life insecure and sure she's being judged on a scale she can't see. She's too short and too heavy, it's weird that they prefer ASL and writing notes over talking, embarrassing that she still likes "kid" shows(her favorite show of all time is Gravity Falls and they love that they live in Oregon too! They'd gladly dress up as Dipper with Tama as Mabel if that wasn't for babies...) and stuffed animals, her different colored eyes are freakish, and they're covered in acne. All these insecurities sometimes leave her overwhelmed, and she needs to run to her safe space in the forest to hide.

She and Tama are still best friends, they've gotten official bracelets that say so and everything! If nothing else, those two can always count on each other for comfort and friendship. As for Qiu... well, as a teenager they've realized just why they always made her heart beat faster. She's got it bad, and isn't quite sure what to do about it. Not confess, that's for sure. They can't stand the idea of losing Qiu as a friend and can't bring herself to consider there's even a chance they might just like her back. Hopefully they'll learn that it's okay to express her feelings and interests, and not to be so harsh on herself.

I haven't decided yet if I'll keep her as bffs and crushes with Tammy, change it so she's bffs with Qiu at this time, or have her be best friends with neither and keep it neutral on the friendship side. Oh, also I'm headcanoning that Tammy's ribbon is cranberry and Beck's headband is gold and glittery so they can have accessories in each other's hair colors <3

Annabeth "Beck" Hyyde. She only uses She/Her, but is fine with all terms. She hasn't put a label on her gender as of now.

Her Autumn has short hair with the earrings and Tammy has the long braid with the ribbon!

Beck is still that happy, energetic person she's always been, now just a whole foot taller(she's like, 5'10. If very tall was a height option I would pick that for her) and with double the hair(I imagine that it grows freakishly fast, probably down to her hips or something when it's down). She's also started to prefer going by Beck rather than Annabeth to most. Qiu sometimes calls her by her first name while Tamarack and her Mamá only use Annabeth. She will very quickly shut it down if anyone but Tammy tries to call her Annie though. That's reserved for favorite best friends only.

She still hasn't quite figured out that she has a crush on Tamarack yet, just knowing that she finds her more amazing than most and her heart always beats faster when they're together. It would take a miracle for this sweet, oblivious kid to realize her feelings at this age. At the very least, she needs someone to spell it out for her. Or maybe if a certain glittery haired neighbor confessed first..?

She's joined the high school soccer team and already stands out as an incredible and talented player. It makes sense, she's only been practicing since before she walk as her Mamá likes to say! Her athleticism, bright personality, and unique looks have made her kind of popular already, even if she doesn't realize it. She tries to be kind and open to everyone, but her two neighbors will always come first.

She knows Tammy and Autumn are having a hard time right now, and will always make time for them to listen to their rants or to distract them with something fun. Their problems are much bigger than her own after all, her issues are just small things like struggling to maintain Cs in school and still forgetting words in english sometimes(and maaaaybe she has a problem with her Mamá dating if that turns out to be true...), she can push through and stay upbeat and happy for everyone! If she doesn't, who will?

The class clown, a jokester, whatever you want to call him, Eli always has a joke or bad pun ready to make people laugh and lighten the mood. He's leaning in hard to his comic relief role and will drop everything to help others if need be. He's stopped caring about rules and being polite like he did as a kid, adults don't know anything anyway.

Elijah "Eli" Anderson. He still identifies as a boy and uses He/Him, but has started to question if that's completely right

His Qiu has long hair with the choker and Tam has the long braid with no accessories!

He cares about his best friend Qiu and Tam the most, though. He's spent hours trying to cheer them up when they're feeling bad and thinking about what he can do to help. His reckless altruism concerns his Ma, but trying to talk to him about it has only led to arguments and points of tension that he doesn't know how to heal. Why can't she see that he just wants to make others happy?? He's frustrated that they don't see eye to eye with this and it's lead to frequent arguments, even though he desperately wishes to get along with the only family he has.

He doesn't care about school anymore, or really anything he used to. Everything is so boring in this little town, he just can't bring himself to care or do anything most days. The only thing that seems to make him happy these days is playing video games, but it's not like he can do that for a living. Whatever, that's a problem for future Eli. He'd prefer to focus on others anyway, the happiness of his friends is much more important to him than his own.

Cass is...temperamental these days, to put it nicely. She responds with huffs or sarcastic responses almost exclusively, and good luck trying to get her to say anything nice about this stupid hellhole town. She's always been a little ornery and rebellious, but lately she seems almost nightmarish in her demeanor.

Cassiopeia "Cass" Aoki-Jones. She still identifies as a girl and exclusively uses She/Her. She's decided that "Cassie" is too babyish and will snap at anyone who still calls her that.

Currently, her Qiu has short hair with the choker and Tee has short hair with no accessories! Honestly, for her playthrough I'll probably let past choices determine the neighbor's looks.

She hates this small town more than ever. She hates her stupid mother who dragged her here. She hates school and skips as often as she can without getting caught, and is completely checked out when she is there. She hates her bright blue hair and insists on dyeing it different colors instead. She hates most of the adults too, with the exception of Mr. Yusuf. Even that relationship is pretty rocky, and she herself doesn't know what has to happen to make it a good day for her.

The only things that seem to make her smile anymore are ballet and practicing guitar, and she puts more effort into that than anything else. She's getting pretty good at them too, if she does say so herself! (Opal has noticed her starting to bake in secret, and that seems to make her happy too. She doesn't dare bring it up though, afraid that mentioning it will make her stop and lose that bit of joy.) Most days, she just locks herself in her room and practices or does nothing but avoid the world.

As angry as she feels at the world, spending time with Qiu or Tee does bring her some peace. She feels relieved that she has someone to talk with about gender stuff, or to complain about complicated parent relationships. Or to just talk about how hard being a teenager is. Cass can recognize now that her feelings towards both of them is something a little different than friendship, but doesn't dare bring it up. What if saying mushy stuff like that makes them hate her? No, it would be better to just not say anything so that she can keep their friendship, one of the few good things in her otherwise miserable life. Just another thing she'll keep bottled inside, good plan Cass.

[here-there-were-dragons]

my mother is absolutely convinced of some nonsense conspiracy theory that (in her words) "originally humanity lived in peaceful all-woman societies of goddess worshippers who took care of eachother and lived in harmony, while males were roving loners that had no society and never cooperated. that changed when the men banded together and overthrew the peaceful woman-dominated societies, and enslaved us all." and, according to her, this is proof that a woman-dominated world would be innately more peaceful, and that men are innately violent and evil and should be either barred from holding any legal power or leadership roles or at least should be (again in her words) "gelded like bulls" to remove their testosterone before even being considered for such a thing.

she also evidently believes that the problem with all religions today is primarily that they aren't "goddess worshippers", because she seems to think goddess religions are inherently peaceful and pure too and seems to be especially obsessed with "Isis" in particular. the very very few times she's openly considered it unambiguously bad for some population or another to have been exterminated (she's got a bad case of devil's advocating genocide brain), she's gone out of her way to make up some crap about how said people were a peaceful society of goddess-worshippers, almost always of isis. delusions of isis-worship seem to be the only thing that ever causes her to consider any arab or middle-eastern culture, society, or ethnicity to be relatively uncomplicatedly undeserving of extermination, in fact, because every fucking time she doesn't immediately start devils-advocating it and making remarks about how "the rest of the world should box them in and let them blow eachother up" it's when she's whinging on about how whatever specific micro-ethnicity she's thinking about are or were traditional persecuted isis-worshippers.

the sole major exception to her weird fixation on isis worship justifying worthiness of life is the whole israel thing going on, in which she has consistently made very obvious that literally the only reason she's against the genocide of palestine is because it gives her an excuse to even more openly hate jewish people than she already did. and honestly i'm not sure even that's true because i think she's made some offhand remarks about palestinians having probably been peaceful isis worshipers before the jews infected them with christianity or something anyway.

so for the last, however fucking long it's been i've been constantly having to listen to her go off about how this behavior is in the jew's blood or whatever and that they literally invented all genocide because somehow the concept didn't exist before them and wouldn't have ever been invented by the rest of humanity without those jewish aliens dropping it in i fucking guess apparently and she furthermore goes on about how every single genocide and mass-oppression movement in history is directly inspired by them, ESPECIALLY the nazis, and THEN i have to listen to her rant about how, basically, wwii was something they entirely brought on themselves by "dominating the economy and treating everyone not them like shit" and the nazis were just "using their own tactics back at them". and then she goes on a rant about how the people the original jews exterminated back in the day (aka the first ever genocide, which they invented, because jews invented genocide and hate according to her) in the middle east region were peaceful matriarchal isis-worshipers.

and then she starts making comments about arabs being backwards and palestinians either being mysogynist muslims that should be boxed in to blow eachother up with everyone else or secret peaceful isis worshippers corrupted by men's cruel hand, sometimes in the same sentence, entirely dependent on which group she's more in the mood to hate at the time.

it's exhausting. beyond exhausting. her sole purpose in existence seems to be to have the singularly most exhausting set of politics physically possible to fit into one person.

just, sometimes i think, if there really is anything at all to the incredibly stupid and inexplicably popular idea that anyone or anything has a Purpose tm to exist for, i feel like my mother's purpose is to be walking proof to me of a Type Of Guy That Is Real, cause i sure as fuck would have trouble inventing this mess if it wasn't standing right in front of me spewing confusingly bipartisan hate. all of her thoughts and opinions are these long winding nonsense chains that feel like if that man carrying thing sketch about the friend with confusing politics was a person. on meth.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

There was a primary healthcare center I only worked at for a few days and then, they didn't want me anymore, because I didn't get along with the other staff members. One woman was OBSESSED with my weight, tried to force me to march around outside on concrete, refused to learn about my health conditions or knee injury, was absolutely convinced I was overweight due to my eating habits, was baffled by why my parents didn't force me to get married young like she was, tried to force button my labcoat until she realized the last two buttons would not close at the time... a male coworker brought lunch that'd make me sick (too greasy) and gave me two sandwiches, like one wouldn't be enough?! What do they think I am?!

I'd never eat two shawarma sandwiches, even those big ones they serve cut in half, I always ate only half and reheated the rest another day, and I usually wouldn't eat them for dinner when the parents bought them because they'd give me reflux. Another doctor thought I was wrong about my diagnosis when I was in horrible pain from the reflux and the cramps... it was just. A nightmare.

I actually went back through my me, dical file to find the diagnoses so he can know that no, I'm not wrong, yes, my suffering is caused by GERD and a sliding hiatal hernia...

So, naturally, I guess they got mad when I requested that no one except patients come see me in the clinic, staff members can only come in if they want to discuss work.

I came to work another day and the doctor in charge was shocked I came in place of some other doctor (who HATES clinic duty and just. Closed the door when she was there, so patients didn't even realize she was in???), so, he realized she was trying to shirk work and lied, as if our hospital and this clinic had no connection, she tried to claim the main hospital needed her for something not knowing her employer and the the head doctor in the PHC kept in contact. He sent me home, told me to ask my employer to be sure before attending in someone else's stead, said I shouldn't be working post-call (what a nostalgic word! I haven't heard it in years... I'm made to work the day after I'm on-call, in this hospital...) and told me not to come again.

I'm glad to see I'm not alone in this "oh, you're making the work environment unfriendly by not wanting to engage in chitchat with the other coworkers."

They're bullies and presumptious and rude. I don't want to talk to them! They're projecting all their stupid issues on me and nitpicking everything from the colour of my headscarf to my weight to how they imagine I eat or move. I exercise regularly, more than most of these women, I just have always had weight fluctuations and I have a hormonal issue that makes it worse because I have PCOS. I'm also mixed, I am never going to be flat all the way up and down like most Saudis!!! The North African genes gave us curves and we're naturally on the heavier side. Even my literal bone mass is greater than most women. Sorry?

[tremendously-crazy]

:(

[nerdie-faerie]

Anytime I buy anything pink I think of all the pink girlies who make pink their personality and wonder if just a lil purchase being in their favourite colour brings them a small amount of happiness. Like what a wonderful thing that most be just to feel joy because of something so small that you might not otherwise notice