#like shallow as hell and maybe stupid!!

[adrivedeepintoleftfield]

if i were to make an observation as to maybe why a ball player in particular is showing signs of distress, are you guys going to think critically about it and weigh the option of it being true or false or are you guys going to fucking bite me

[bloodstainedsapphic]

becoming ellie williams' personal nurse was absolutely not part of your grand plan. in fact, being ellie williams’ anything hadn’t crossed your mind until an unexpected run-in left you the only one available to patch her up after a rough patrol. you’d spoken fewer than ten times before that, but after that night, ellie unilaterally decided you were the only person allowed to help her when she got injured. you didn’t fuss as much as maria, or dina, or anyone else—and that was enough for her. or at least, that’s what she claimed. it certainly didn’t hurt that you were cute.

that's how you found yourself falling into a routine—ellie 'just happening' to show up at your door, flashing those worn green eyes and grumbling about how "it's not that bad" to garner enough pity until you inevitably caved and fixed her up, sparing her yet another lecture from maria.

tonight was no different. she lingered outside, shifting her weight like she was debating whether to knock. but since this had become clockwork, you were already pulling the door open, and she shuffled inside uttering a, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you sighed, already moving to nab your ever-growing stash of first-aid supplies as she dropped into your desk chair. ellie had tried to clean herself up beforehand, but it was fruitless—her green jacket, the one now being hastily shrugged off, had been covering the worst of it. a deep gash on her arm, the lingering traces of a nosebleed, fresh cuts along her cheek. she’d been through hell and back.

"ellie," your voice carried a warning as you approached, reaching out to cautiously inspect her wounded arm. "this isn't just some scrape." ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, taking the accosting while settling in the chair she'd visited many times already. "it's nothing. i don't want maria finding out and pulling me off patrols."

your lips pressed into a thin line, but you didn't protest further. you knew how much patrol meant to her—how she needed it. how ellie seemed to rely on it to feel like she provided something useful to jackson. so instead, you got to work, gently cleaning the cuts along her forearm. ellie winced as the antiseptic hit raw skin, her fingers twitching against her thigh. unfortunately, the cut had grazed her tatted arm. you made a valiant effort to be delicate enough to mend the cut without disturbing the tattoo—luckily, it had missed the chemical burn ellie said she'd gotten on that arm years ago.

"oh, stop whining," you chided over her complaints. "shouldn't you be used to the pain by now? little masochist. and what's with you aiming for this poor arm so much? you've got two to work with, you know.” ellie scoffed at your chastizing, biting the inside of her cheek as her expression shifted to annoyance but not full offense. "right, lemme plan my injuries better next time."

you dabbed at a shallow abrasion beneath her cheekbone. ellie's eyes flickered up, trying to capture yours, but you wouldn't budge from the injury. she bit her crimson-stained lip, like she was weighing her next words wisely. "you keep patching me up, though. makes me wonder... i mean, i dunno..." ellie stilted her delivery, partly out of nerves, partly to grab your attention. "maybe you like seein' me all banged up," her tone took on a pitchy lilt as she kept peeking up at you.

the way she said it—less of a tease, a tad second-guessing, trying to dare a reaction out of you—made your stomach do something stupid.

"a better patient would stop causing such a distraction," you shot back, deliberately avoiding her gaze while keeping with the 'strict nurse' facade. you couldn't suppress a hint of a smirk though, briefly wiping your mouth to try and shield the small break over her nervous attempt at flirting. you just hated how right she was—no one was forcing you to do this, to put up with her maddening stubbornness and save her hide time and time again. all ellie had to do was bat those ridiculously pretty greens, and your defenses crumbled.

ellie huffed, pleased with your accidental admission but now more determined to coax more from you. she shifted slightly—and that's when you felt it. the light press of her fingers against the dip of your waist, like she had just meant to steady herself but forgot to pull away. her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine. you said nothing, pretending not to notice. maybe she hadn't even meant to. you'd both insist, later, it was simply the sting of the antiseptic anyway, as if she hadn't weathered worse injuries before. neither of you moved.

ellie couldn't disguise her beaming when your strict charade allowed the gesture. she swallowed, like she was trying to decide whether to try her luck. her fingers tapped your side, hesitant.

“i think you're helping me all the time 'cause you've got a soft spot for me."

your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your neck, but you weren't about to let her win that easily. with a little head shake, you willfully regained your composure and lightly patted ellie's uninjured cheek before schooling your expression. "hush. you're being disorderly. i can't fix you up with all this blabbering."

ellie let out an exaggerated hiss, scrunching her eyes shut dramatically. your stomach clenched in brief panic, helper mode reigniting—until you realized she was full of shit, twisting her head like she'd been mortally wounded when, in reality, you had barely touched her.

"you're impossible," you muttered, smacking her good arm lightly in playful retaliation. "your life is in my hands. don't forget that." ellie leaned forward just enough to close the space between you, her voice dropping. "yeah, yeah, and every time i show up like this, i'm choosing to put my trust in you."

she wavered briefly, then added, softer still—only brave enough to say it now because she was already committed to the bit—"and that’s also why you won’t look at me."

you froze, and the second you met her gaze, it was over—long lashes framing those round green eyes, a smattering of freckles, some loose auburn strands that had escaped her barely-held-together bun sticking to her skin from the leftover sweat of patrol. with scraped skin and blood-streaked face, ellie was a proper mess—and yet, here you were, fighting every aching urge screaming at you to throw yourself on top of her.

you swallowed hard. the unassuming, bashful, loserish ellie was nowhere to be found. replaced by an ellie probably still riding the adrenaline of her close call with a horde of infected earlier, caring a little less about the consequences of her words and even further fueled by your easily cracked stoicism.

ellie seized your defeated, flustered silence to keep going. "also, as my nurse, i'm surprised you don't know the best cure for any injury."

you inhaled to brace for whatever nonsense was about to come out of her mouth. "oh, yeah? what's that?"

".....a kiss."

a drawn-out groan escaped you. "jesus," you muttered, cheeks burning. but fine—just this once. you weren't giving in completely, but you leaned in, pressing a fleeting peck to the tip of her nose.

the way ellie's face immediately split into a stupidly giddy grin was almost worth it. almost. her whole expression flushed a rosy pink, too.

"oh, on the nose? that barely counts," ellie teased, her voice dipping into something softer, more expectant. definitely hoping she hadn’t pushed her luck too much.

"deal with it, williams," you murmured, but your mind was already betraying you.

despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would be like if you really gave in. if you disregarded all medical safety and climbed into her lap and kissed her senseless, letting your hands explore each other in desperation and recklessly savoring the taste of metallic red left on her soft lips.

snapping yourself from that less-than-holy thought, you deflected under the guise of needing to retrieve more supplies for another small cut you had overlooked.

when you came back, ellie was still watching you, something unreadable in her expression. you hesitated for a moment, then finally gave her a little glimmer of hope to cling to.

"tell you what," you started. "don't be an idiot—which i know is hard for you—and let everything heal," you let the jab sit for a second to build suspense, "and i’ll grant you the other half of that kiss."

ellie's smile widened triumphantly, though her posture was beginning to laze as exhaustion from the day's chaos caught up with her.

"anything for the nurse."

"yeah, yeah. now hold still so i can finish fixing you up."

and, for once, ellie williams actually listened. pic creds @/elliesgalaxy

[grilledkatniss]

Just thinking I'm never gonna be able to hug the one person that's kept me company for so long to the point I can without a shred of doubt say is literally the reason I'm still alive.. is killing me right now.

[mygnolia]

A HUNDRED HIDDEN KISSES | s. jaeyun

୨୧ -› so, the story goes that you’re supposed to feud with Sim Jaeyun, with his perfectly handsome face, his foreign exchange student accent, or his flirty remarks. but the story has a plot twist; somewhere along the way, you fell for his winks and charm.

pair -› (BLONDE.) soccer player!jake x top student!fmr | trope -› one sided enemies to lovers | wc -› 1.7k | cw -› kissing but idk how to write two ppl kissing oops anyways downbad HORRENDOUSLY down bad jake here | library

the weird thing about a crush is, it happens unexpectedly. 

maybe not so unexpected- because your heart has an attraction to the lamest soccer player on the team before your head even tolerated him. you hated sim jaeyun and you swore you did- but maybe you didn’t swear hard enough, because at some point, you could see your sense of rational floating above your head before it pops like a bubble and disappears into thin air. 

see- you’re supposed to hate sim jake. he’s obnoxious and loud and always says ‘no’ in the accent that makes it incredibly clear that it’s him (and only him) who’s said it. and not just that- he’s become best friends with sunghoon in an instant. park sunghoon, aka, your study buddy since beginning of high school. so yeah- maybe you hate that sunghoon has started hanging out with jake more and you swear you always catch the new exchange student looking in your direction whenever he’s with sunghoon. he definitely talks about you, but sunghoon is as quiet as a mouse when you two study for exams- which is infuriating, and so unlike him. but there’s another huge huge problem. 

jake is probably the prettiest boy you’ve met in your life. 

he came to the school with shorter hair, but sunghoon’s ability to change someone’s entire look is blessed by the gods- and sunghoon himself was kissed by eternal beauty, so of course, when they started hanging out, you noticed the change in clothes to be more baggy, his walk to be much more confident, his grin to be sly, and his hair to be so much cuter when styled. you were royally fucked from the day you saw jake wave in your direction when he entered class, with a confident smile that you weren’t sure he only showed to you. 

and that made you all the more irritated with him. “I am not going to teach him anything, hoon.” you state firmly. “he’s like- the most annoying younger brother you could ever ask for.” and there’s a worrying look that flashes in the boy’s eye, leaving you confused and pondering on the way home. “why don’t you teach him art history?” 

“we goof around too much.” and you roll your eyes at his lame excuse. 

and yet another problem arises. see, park sunghoon knew much more than you did when it came to jake. he knew that he played soccer in his backyard before heading to school, that his dog was a border collie, and that sim jake had a crush on you- aka- the most unavailable girl ever, who’s never dated anyone, thinks boys (especially boys who play sports) are stupid, and has a hatred for jake and only him. so sunghoon thinks his friend is utterly hopeless, and wants to tell him to give up, but when sunghoon hears how the boy raves about you and how pretty you looked in class today, he smacks jake on the arm and whines to him about shutting up and to stop being a loser. 

“do you think she’ll like it if i dyed my hair blonde?” 

sunghoon sighs, “you could dye your hair any color and she’d still want to cut it off.”

jake blinks. “but blondes are hot, right?”

and that’s how he shows up the next day, making you shrink in your seat from just how much better he looks and how much more annoying that makes him. 

jake has heard about the guys you’ve rejected for liking you because they’re shallow. and jake sees how you scowl at him- but he’s determined to make you his girlfriend, so once again, he tells you good morning with that accent of his and that grin on him, and you mumble a good morning back, wondering why the hell he’s always trying to talk to you. maybe he still wants you to tutor him for art history. maybe that’s why he intercepts you on the way out of the school gates with heavy breathing after running across campus.

“please- stay after practice.” he begs you, and you recognize a fresh ocean scent that compliments his bubbly personality with how he’s run up to you and leans down to make eye contact. and there’s only one thought in your head, one that manifests into stupid words that stupid and now blonde sim jaeyun hears. 

“you’re so pretty.” and you think if an alien ufo were to suck you up into space and carry you away from the pit of shame and embarrassment you’ve carved out for yourself, you would embrace extraterrestrial life without hesitation if it meant getting away from him. “fuck, sorry, i didn’t mean to say that.” 

and fuck, his laugh his so cute when you hear it, so much so that it momentarily distracts you from the blaring truth that his efforts to look good for you have paid off. “you think i’m pretty?” 

“pretty stupid.” and you try to say it with malice, but it comes out small and he knows you mean none of it. “i’ll be waiting with sunghoon on the bleachers.” 

yeah- it’s safe to say that jake has never scored that many times against his goalie in his entire life. but his excitement is infectious, and when sunghoon sneaks out of the sitting area to meet his friend during a break, the latter knows something is up. “she called me pretty, hoon. like, she actually meant it.”

“are you sure?” 

“and then she said i was pretty stupid, but liste-ow! what the hell?” he stops himself when he gets yet another smack from sunghoon- except this time, his friend’s eyes are shining. 

“no way. she meant it?” and jake nods in earnest. 

“that’s why she’s been waiting at the bleachers.” and sunghoon fake gags. 

“you’re disgustingly in love with her or something.” jake offers him a lopsided smile and bounces off in your direction, afraid you’ve left now that there’s no one on the field and the sun might start to set soon. but to his relief, you’re there, with your pretty hair and your pretty face and your pretty everything. 

“____!” he says running over with his bag. “sorry for keeping you waiting.” 

you close your notebook, where you’ve done half of your math homework between watching jake pass the ball and scoring. and you’re a little irritated at how long it takes for boys to run across the field to practice soccer, but you’re just more worried about getting home safely. “tell me what you need. it’s cold, and it’s getting dark, sim.” 

“you walk home?” and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t noticed something like that sooner. and you nod, packing your things slowly. “i’ll go with you.” 

“why?”

“because i don’t want a pretty girl like you to walk home alone.” he says, changing his shoes. 

“i’m not worried because it’s dark, i’m worried because it’s cold.” you argue, not ignoring how he calls you pretty. 

“then wear my hoodie.” 

“but my face will be cold.” 

“then kiss me.” he blurts. 

huh? kiss? jake? 

“kiss?” you reiterate, staring at him like he has three heads. 

jake’s eyes widen in panic. “well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“it’s not like i don’t want to.”

“so if you want to, and your face is cold, why can’t we..”

“well i don’t know what it’s like to be kissed!” you admit awkwardly, suddenly finding the dirt on the bleachers much more interesting than the way jake is probably looking at you like you’re a loser. 

“it’s okay, i haven’t either.” and his confession makes you whip your head around, face to face with a boy who very much looks like he’s had a girlfriend- or a few. 

“but-“ and you’re definitely taken aback. “but you’re so..” 

all of the playfulness floods back into his grin as he unabashedly observes your every reaction. “so…what, ____?” and despite a frown overcoming your features, your heart thuds rapidly with the proximity between you two, and you can’t help but lose your train of thought when he’s so close. “pretty?” and it refers to your slip of tongue, making you scrunch your nose in embarrassment. 

“i don’t know.” your murmur. 

“you don’t? come on angel, you aren’t the smartest in our class for nothing.” and you hear the way his accent permeates every few words, and unfortunately, it’s just painfully unfair how attractive he looks when he chuckles and reaches up. “may i?” he says, and you nod, letting him scoot closer and grasp your chin. and you give him permission because you don’t have a reason to say no, and even if you did, all protest dies on your tongue when he leans in just a little bit more, and your eyes flutter shut, tilted slightly for your lips to slot perfectly against his. and your face burns with how much you enjoyed your kiss with jake, so much so that when you part, it’s not for long, since you place your hands on his shoulders and whisper to no one but him, “kiss me again.” 

and you kiss sim jaeyun on the bleachers for the second time, your hands pulling him close as you both enjoy the spark of the moment. and jake can’t get enough of you- it's evident with now the time you spend apart from each other far less in comparison to the time he spends with his eyes closed and with your lips against his. 

you pull apart with a giggle and a boulder of bashfulness on your shoulders, unsure of how you even got here with your lip balm smeared across his lips. and you’re one of the smartest students there, but your train of thought probably crashed somewhere the moment you could smell the fresh scent of his cologne. 

yeah- maybe you were doomed from the start. 

“let’s get you home, yeah?” 

and even though your face is still cold, you wear his hoodie and hold his hand to make sure you’re not cold anywhere else. “what did you want me to stay behind for?”

“right- art history!”

“i said it a whole bunch of times! i’m not going to tutor you, jake!”

he pouts. "still?"

reblogs + interactions r appreciated!

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Four (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Every action has a consequence.

Words: 1540

Warnings: Arguments, talks of death, canon death, language?

A/N: I'm alive. I haven't forgotten this. I also have Covid so forgive me. K, thanks!

-X-

Agatha’s feet carried her forward, through endless expanse as she searched for Nicky before—

Two small, thin arms wrapped around her, his head pressing against her stomach as he barreled into her. “Mama!” his voice cracked, burrowing deeper into her grasp.

Breath catching painfully in her chest, Agatha sunk to her knees, gathering him into her arms and just… holding him, silent tears streaming down her face. He smelled just like she remembered—of earth and rain and everything good in her world. Everything good she’d ever done.

-X-

Trembling hands caressed your face, wiping away sweat and tears as your breathing grew shallow, lips paling.

“W-what’s happening?” Teen asked nervously, flinching at Rio’s cold, unwavering glare.

“Which part? The part where you shouldn’t exist right now and neither should this godforsaken Road? How your powers just sent (Y/N) and Agatha into the realm of the afterlife because you can’t control your abilities? Or the part where—” Rio choked on her words, staring down at your unmoving body, “—Life is dying?”

Teen’s jaw dipped open, eyes wide with horror. “W-what?”

The other witches took a step back, sensing the brewing storm within Rio, eyes flickering between the boy and the scene before them.

“You, Teen, are Billy Maximoff. Son of the Scarlet Witch and the creator of the Witch’s Road. Congratulations, you’ve turned a con into a reality and in doing so, have damned Life to die because you briefly gave Agatha Harkness enough power to drag my other half into the fucking afterlife!” her words were sharp, cracking around the edges. “The living can’t come back from the afterlife! In letting Agatha have exactly what she wanted, Life made a choice… and she…”

Shaking fingers drifted along your cheeks.

“God, why did you do it?” she asked your still form. “You idiot. You stupid, wonderful, selfless idiot.”

“Wait, wait, hold up. (Y/N) is Life?” Jenn repeated, her eyes jumping between you and Rio. “So does that make you—”

“Death,” Lilia finished, though it wasn’t a question.

Tilting her head slightly, Rio’s eyes never left you. “Ding, ding, ding. Thank you for playing, witches. So, unless anyone has any useful ideas right this second, I need you all to shut the hell up while I think.”

For once…

The Road was silent.

And Rio had no ideas of how to solve this fucking mess.

-X-

Staggering towards Agatha and Nicky, you forced your body to keep moving, even as the afterlife demanded more from you the longer Agatha remained. Seeing her clinging to Nicky tugged at your heart and you hated yourself for what you were about to do. Dragging her away.

“Mommy!” Nicky gasped, peering over Agatha’s shoulder at you, his excitement fading into worry. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.”

Stiffening slightly, Agatha glanced over her shoulder at you, eyes widening at the blackening veins pulsing on your face, the paleness of your lips, the shadows nipping at your heels…

“Hey, baby,” you rasped, collapsing beside Agatha and gently combing your fingers through his long hair. “I uh… I’m okay. I have to take Mama home though. I’m sorry, we can’t stay.”

Nicky’s expression dropped but he nodded. “I know. It’s not Mama’s time.”

Reaching up, his small hand touched your cheek, knowing something’s wrong even if he can’t understand it. His other hand touched Agatha’s.

“Please stop fighting,” he whispered to Agatha, holding her gaze. “It wasn’t their fault. Someday, we’ll be a family. All of us. You and Mommy and Mami… we’ll all be happy again.”

Maybe it’s the light shining in his eyes or the actual health keeping his face colored or maybe it’s the confidence in his voice but something—even if she didn’t want to admit it—began to warm in her chest, regret flooding into her eyes as she really took you in. How sick you suddenly seemed. The way you were panting, despite not needing air. The way your glow seemed…

Dim.

Smiling softly—in pain, in heartbreak—you grabbed Agatha’s hand and tangled your fingers together before closing your eyes, yanking both of you back into your bodies before she could try and stop you.

Then…

There was only darkness.

-X-

Agatha awoke with a gasp, sitting upright abruptly. The Road. She was on the Road again—lying in the wet mud—but…

Glancing around, she saw everyone surrounding… something.

“And here I thought this coven would be happy to know I’m fine,” she half-joked, staggering to her feet and wandering over to group, almost offended by the lack of reaction. “Really feeling the sisterhood here.”

Before she could even reach the circle, Rio’s hand was wrapped around her neck, shoving her into a tree. Scathing remarks on the tip of her tongue, she froze at the look of absolute fury on Rio’s face. Of all the things she’d said and done over the centuries, she’d never been on the receiving end of this expression…

This hatred.

“Agatha Harkness, you selfish, thoughtless woman! Hate me all you want but she—” Rio choked on her words, emotion swimming so deeply in her eyes that it nearly stole Agatha’s breath. “—she always saw the best in you. Forgave you for whatever you said; whatever you did. But this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What fucking mess you’ve caused? No, because you don’t ever think about anyone other than yourself!”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha choked out, fingers wrapping around Rio’s wrist in an attempt to loosen her grip.

Dragging her by her throat over to your body, Rio snarled, “Look!”

There, motionless on the ground, you lied. Pale in the moonlight of the Road, eyes fluttering, chest barely rising—

You looked like a damn corpse, something Agatha never once expected to see. You, so full of energy and life, snuffed out like a candle in a windstorm, only embers remaining where your flames once burned. Your fingers twitched, as if reaching out for something unseen but too weak to find.

“Nothing living can return from the afterlife. It demands a price, a price, for any mortal that passes through—and she fucking paid yours.” Rio’s lip trembled, staring at the dying body of her counterpart.

Her perfect other half.

For the first time in her existence, Agatha Harkness was struck speechless. You, who always stood by her side even when she screamed and raged and hated… you, who vowed to love her even as Agatha scorched the earth around her… you who could’ve left her to the afterlife…

“(Y/N),” she breathed, dropping to her knees beside you, a trembling hand reaching out to touch your face, only to be caught by Rio and yanked away, nearly knocked backwards onto her ass.

“Don’t fucking touch her,” she hissed, carefully lifting your body into her arms to cradle you to her chest. Feeling the way your heartbeat was waning beneath her palm. Sluggish. Barely beating. “You’ve done enough.”

Agatha’s lips parted, but no words came. There was nothing she could say. For once, the woman who had spoken her way into and out of every situation imaginable—who always found an angle to tip the scales in her favor—was utterly, horrifyingly speechless. For all her dark knowledge… she was completely unprepared.

A broken, strangled sound escaped her lips, and she moved again, reaching for you instinctively. “Rio, please—”

“No,” Rio spat, pulling you tighter against her chest. Her arms curled around you as if shielding you from the very woman who had caused this, her visage flickering for a split second. An unspoken warning. “You don’t get to ask anything of me. Of her. Not anymore.”

Agatha recoiled like she’d been struck, breath hitching sharply in her throat. She wanted to argue, to lash out, to fix this—but there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do. For the first time, she actually felt how powerless she really was.

"Please, baby," Rio whispered, this time directed at you. At the barely-there rise and fall of your chest. "Stay with me. Don’t leave me; I can’t do this without you."

But even as she begged, even as she reached for something unseen, something that was already slipping between her fingers, trying to call upon something—anything, the truth sat heavy in the air.

You were dying.

And there wasn’t a damn thing Death could do to stop it.

Jenn took a step forward, hesitant. “There has to be something we can do.” Her voice wavered, but there was determination in her eyes, staring at your still body. “Life isn’t a mortal, so that means the afterlife can’t just… take her.”

Rio let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. “Oh, sure. Go ahead, Jenn. If you have a way to defy the fundamental laws of existence and the cosmos and the afterlife I’ve cultivated for millennia, be my guest. Clearly a bunch of half-assed witches know more than an actual cosmic entity.”

Jenn bristled but she kept quiet, knowing this wasn’t just anger—this was unadulterated grief. The panic of not being able to stop what felt inevitable.

And if they didn’t hurry…

There would be no life left to save.

[detroit-become-hurt]

Baby I'm Down Bad For You

Hi. Okay. Sevika fic because I have brain rot I tell you, brain rot! Also I haven't watched S2 of Arcane yet, I don't have my netflix sub anymore. But I've seen stuff on tiktok so I have a vague idea what happens. Modern AU Sevika x Reader

Sevika sighed as she peered around the bar, glass of whiskey in hand as she thoughtfully wondered if it was too late to back out now and go home. She had begrudgingly agreed to a stupid blind date, why? she wasn’t quite sure herself. Maybe she was tired of being lonely, tired of being disappointed by shallow and self centered women who wanted to get close to her for the sake of money. So when a colleague at work offered to set her up on a blind date, she thought to hell with it.

But now, as she sat in the bar overlooking the inhabitants, she wondered if this was a good idea. She didn’t want to admit that she really wanted this to turn into something good. She was tired of seeing couples around her, lovey dovey and shit. Though she never showed or voiced it, Sevika ached for companionship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day, and curl up on the couch with.

Downing the rest of the alcohol she pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep drag. She much preferred cigars, but in places and times like these, cigarettes would work. How much longer would she have to wait? She had no clue what you looked liked, so how was she supposed to know when you were here?

Almost as if hearing her thoughts, you make your way into the crowded bar. The music is loud, too loud really. And there’s too many people for your liking. Why couldn’t your friend suggest someplace more chill for a blind date? Your eyes scan the crowd, searching for the figure that matched the description your friend had given you.

“I’ll try not to give too much away. But she’s quite tall, broad shoulders, and muscular.” She adds, waggling her eyebrows in your direction. “Also, you can’t miss her with that shiny ass prosthetic she has.” This had caught your attention, and when asking about it your friend simply stated it wasn’t her place to say. “You can ask her about it, but I wouldn’t open the conversation with that.” She advised you. You can’t help but roll your eyes, like you would be rude and insensitive enough to ask that.

The dress you wore clung to your body, and it was hard not to feel self conscious even though no one had even spared you a second glance. You rarely dressed like this, opting for looser fitting clothes as you weren’t exactly skinny. You prayed that your date wouldn’t be so self centered to care about your physique. 

As you made your way farther into the bar, you finally caught a glimpse of someone who matched your friend's description. The light reflecting off her prosthetic gave her away, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of you. She was beautiful, definitely muscular and broad shouldered. Her nose curved downwards, face framed by dark locks pulled into a half assed bun. The most stunning thing about her though was her eyes, a steely gray that seemed to reflect light. God you were down bad for someone you haven’t even met yet.

‘Just stay calm.’ Is all you can think as you slowly make your way over to the bar. “Um…Sevika?” You asked and she turned to face you, looking down after a moment of realizing how short you were compared to her. She hasn't said anything yet, so you decided to continue talking. “I’m y/n. And I’m uh, your blind date hehe.” you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as your chest up to your face flushes red from embarrassment. You don’t know that Sevika thinks it’s cute.

You also don’t know that for once, Sevika feels excitement upon seeing you. She feels hopeful, already getting the vibe that you weren’t like the other women she’s talked to in the past. To her, you’re absolutely stunning, and she can’t help but rake her eyes over the curves of your hips to the swell of your tummy as the dress clings to it. It makes her absolutely feral.

Adorning a cocky smirk she straightens up to her full height, and you have to crane your neck back a bit to keep eye contact. “Pleasure to meet you,” her gravelly voice sends a wave of warmth to your core and it takes everything in you to not turn around and run out of this damn place. “Can I buy you a drink?” She asks, pulling a stool out for you.

Hopping onto the seat you shyly admit you don’t drink very often, asking her what’s good. Sevika lets out a boisterous laugh, asking if you prefer something sweet to something stronger. “Definitely sweet.” you confirm, nose wrinkling at the thought of straight liquor, and Sev can’t help but think how cute that is. 

Drinks ordered you both sit in a comfortable silence for a moment til Sevika spoke up, “I’m going to be honest,” Oh no. here it comes. The “you seem pretty great and all but you’re not really my type” speech. Sevika takes a sip of her second glass of whiskey, hoping it will give her the courage to remain confident, and honest. “I’m not very good at these kinds of things. Dating has never been my…forte. So I apologize if I make you uncomfortable in any way.”

Oh. That’s not what you expected at all. 

“Dating has never been my strong suit either…” you admit sipping on your own drink. You miss the look of shock on Sevika’s face. To her, she can’t believe that you’re even single. 

“Perhaps then this is a chance for both of us…”She states sincerely. You look at her and give her a warm smile that causes her stomach to summersault. Throughout the rest of the evening the two of you chatted about anything and everything, divulging secrets here and there. You felt comfortable with Sevika, like you had known her a long time despite it being your first time meeting her now. Eventually the two of you were kicked out as the bar had to close down.

Sevika walked you to your car, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to keep you out so late doll.” her voice is low and gravelly, and god you could scream at how fine this woman was. 

“S’kay. I don’t mind. I had a great time tonight. Could I get your number?” You felt emboldened by the several drinks you had, normally you wouldn’t ask such a thing. Swapping contact info the two of you are then left in a comfortable silence, just admiring one another. “Well, I suppose we should part ways.” You finally break the silence. With your heart pounding in your chest you take a step closer to Sevika, and she watches your every move, wondering what you’re going to do next. Standing on your tiptoes you lean in and give a gentle kiss to Sevika’s cheek, both of your faces burning. 

“Goodnight doll. I’ll see you around.” Sevika smirks despite her face flushed red as you get into your car. You can’t help but spare her one last glance before pulling away, at which she gives you a small wave. 

If Sevika was sure of anything, she had it bad for you.

[pumpkin-mines]

My request is trans dirk joy <3

explanation/vent under cut

this ask was weird for me, not because it's actually weird of course, but because it really should have been easy; draw one of my favorite characters experiencing joy. Choosing whether it was joy and reveling in his transness or just existing as a trans man in joy should have been the hardest choice, but in reality it was the 'joy' that stumped me. I'm not joyous, I'm not even particularly happy, so how the hell was I supposed to draw that? for Dirk no less?

Maybe it could have been a special, shiny moment where he was playing ponies, rapping with Squarewave, hanging out with Dave, shit maybe even a section of time where he was showing his happiness with his body. But my ideas felt shallow, like I was copying what I was told joy was supposed to look like.

so I took longer, thought about what happiness could mean for someone. And I thought about a time that wasn't special in it's uniqueness, but because it was a mundane kind of happiness, where Dirk, as a trans man, lived through his worst moments. Where even though everything was going wrong and it all seemed worthless he kept pushing and now he's at a point where joy isn't rare or hard to come by. A life where he has himself and in addition to that, has a Jake who can love him the way they both need.

I don't really understand still, but maybe when I'm softer and my hair is longer and my stupid horse pj's are more worn, I can.

[lvsjuno]

NATIONAL ANTHEM ━ CH. 02

Pairing — BF!Rafe x younger!kook!Fem reader

Navigation — Part 01 | Part 02

main masterlist ━ Spanish version

That night, you arrived at the party with Sarah and Topper, wearing that light white dress that swayed in the coastal night breeze, the one you had chosen thinking about Rafe.

The music thumped in the background, the sound of waves and laughter filling the beach, but the three of you were somewhat apart, a little removed from the commotion. The cool night air brushed against your faces, but you couldn’t help but notice the tense glint in Topper’s eyes, as if something was bothering him, though he tried to hide it.

Sarah, with her typically laidback attitude, seemed determined to get under Topper’s skin, climbing over the remnants left behind by Hurricane Agatha.

Their relationship was definitely strange, or at least you thought so. It was nothing like your relationship with Rafe, where adoration and small gestures of affection spoke louder than any argument. Sarah and Topper seemed to enjoy pushing each other to the limit, as if finding balance was a constant challenge. You, though amused by their constant clashes and Sarah’s relentless teasing of Topper, couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something underlying in their dynamic, something you couldn’t quite grasp.

You three had decided to get closer to the crowd, to have a good time, to enjoy ourselves, but everything went to hell when JJ showed up, pretty drunk, not a good sign at all.

“Hey!” JJ shouted, approaching with a cheerful tone, drunk from all the beer he had consumed. “Sarah! Sarah, can I offer you a delicious Milwaukee drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied.

It was naive of her to think that would be the end of the interaction, because JJ apparently had other plans.

“What’s the matter? Not fancy enough for you?”

“No, we were just leaving—” Topper cut her off. “Hey, you know what? I’ll take it.”

“That’s fine, but I wasn’t offering it to you.” It was clear JJ had drunk too much and was being an idiot by messing around. “If you had said ‘please,’ maybe, but you didn’t.”

“Oh... please,” Topper said sarcastically. “There, happy now? Please.”

JJ ignored him. “Sarah, you can keep it and share it with that hot chick over there.”

Topper threw the drink in JJ’s face. “Neither of them wants it, you—” JJ grabbed Topper by the shirt and shoved him hard. you tried to step closer to see what was going on and, if possible, stop the fight.

“No, no, no, no!” John B pushed JJ back to avoid the fight but then changed his mind and shoved Topper whe he hears the kook yelling, “Stupid pogues!”

You, alarmed by how big the fight had escalated, decided to stay on the sidelines, but the tension was palpable. When everyone around began to form a large circle to watch the fight, you knew everything had gone to hell.

You could hear the chants of the crowd cheering on the fight, and in that moment, Topper kicked John B. The Pogue boy gathered his strength and knocked Topper into the water while he wasn’t looking, distracted by Sarah's scream.

You could feel every part of your body tense up at the sight of Topper hitting John B, but he quickly recovered, knocked Topper down, and used the blow to his advantage, throwing him into the shallow water.

"Come on, Topper! Let’s go!" John B threw a couple more punches before Topper took him down and started choking him.

You tried to run toward them to try to stop the stupid fight, only for someone to hold her back. "Let me go!"

"You don’t want to get in the middle of that, sweetheart, trust me," JJ replied.

"He's choking him, JJ!"

"Topper, stop! No!" Sarah kept screaming.

You couldn’t help but look around frantically, searching for help, for someone who understood the seriousness of the situation. You saw Kiara and Pope, who were just as distressed as Sarah and you, all desperately trying to figure out a solution.

Then you felt JJ’s arms release your body, not feeling his warm body against yours. You turn back to see him running off somewhere. Before leaving, he shouted, "Stay there!"

your first thought was that he was going to run and tackle Topper from behind to save his friend or something like that. But all your thoughts vanished when you saw him running with a gun in his hand. at that moment, when he ran close to your body, you could hear the click of the safety and could only imagine the worst.

"Yeah, you know what this is. Come on, let him go."

As soon as JJ pressed the gun against the back of Topper’s neck, the crowd began to scatter.

"JJ, stop! Put the gun down!" Sarah ordered.

"Did you say something, princess?" He didn’t back down, even after Topper released John B.

"Kie, can you check on your psycho friend, please?" Sarah shouted.

"How about you check on your psycho boyfriend first, bitch!" Kiara yelled back.

"Alright, everyone, listen up! Get off our side of the island!" JJ shouted, firing two shots into the air.

After the chaos of the fight, you decided to distance yourseld from the crowd. your breathing was fast, and the sound of the gunshots still echoed in your mind.

Damn, Rafe is not going to like this at all.

You pulled out the phone with trembling hands and checked your last conversation with Rafe.

Rafe☀️: I’ll pick you up later, wait for me.

His message was still there, along with a couple of emojis he’d added to soften his protective tone. But after what had just happened, You knew you couldn’t stay there waiting for him.

You were nervous and shaken by everything you had just experienced, Topper almost killing John B, JJ pulling a gun while drunk and firing into the air with the potential to hurt someone. you deeply regretted not listening to your boyfriend.

rafe is always right, why you just didn't you hear him, he'll be mad at you now

You dialed his number and pressed the phone to your ear, with your heart pounding. The call rang once, then twice. Finally, his familiar voice broke the silence.

"Princess, is everything okay?"

"Rafe…" tried to keep calm, but your voice trembled. "There was… a fight at the party."

A heavy silence fell between you and him, before he responded. His tone shifted from warm to cold, almost icy.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

you took a deep breath. It was best to be honest.

"I’m fine, but things got out of control. Topper almost killed someone, JJ pulled a gun…" your paused, trying to hold yourself together. "Rafe, it was insane."

you could hear his breathing on the other end, slow and controlled, but you knew he was holding back.

"I’m coming. Where are you?"

"I’m not at the beach anymore. I’m walking toward the main road."

"Stay there, don’t move."

The call ended before you could say anything else. you knew that when Rafe arrived, there would be questions. He’d want to know every detail, and more than anything, he’d be furious that you had been in the middle of something so dangerous and for not listening to him.

you wrapped your arms around your body, trying to calm down as you waited for him. It wasn’t long before you saw the headlights of the Jeep approaching. The vehicle stopped in front of you, and Rafe got out immediately, his face a mixture of worry and anger.

"Are you okay?" he asked, walking up to you carefully.

you just nodded, cauae before yoi could answer, he wrapped her in his arms. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he needed to make sure you were really there.

"I told you, yn. I told you I didn’t trust them, they’re all psychopaths."

"Rafe…" you began, but he pulled back slightly, his deep blue eyes searching yours.

"Did anyone touch you? Did anyone dare to…?"

"No, no. I'm fine, I swear. It was… it was crazy, but I'm okay."

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm himself. When he looked at you again, his expression had softened, though the worry was still there.

"Let’s go home."

you nodded and let him guide you to the Jeep. You already knew the night wouldn’t end on the light, playful way you two had planned, but you couldn’t help feeling relieved to be with him.

You and Rafe arrived at his house in silence. The drive had been short, but for you, every minute felt like an eternity, filled with the tension still lingering in your body. Rafe had tried to calm you silently, his hand resting on your thigh as he drove focus. When you arrived to Tannyhill, Rafe quickly parked the Jeep and got out, moving with urgency as if making sure everything was okay. You just followed him, the weight of the night still heavy on your shoulders.

Once inside, Rafe shut the door firmly behind them and looked at you with an intensity that made you shiver. tried not to let it show, but your hands were still trembling.

"We need to talk about this," Rafe said, his voice low and controlled.

You nodded and sank onto the couch. were exhausted, mentally and physically, and needed a moment to process everything that had happened. Rafe sat beside you, staring at yours intently but not saying a word. You could feel the concern burning in his gaze.

"I'm so sorry, Rafey" finally talking, breaking the silence. trying to make sound your words sincere

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated.

"I shouldn’t have let you go, yn" he said in a low tone. His eyes stayed on you, letting you see the internal struggle he was facing.

You leaned toward him, touching his arm gently in an attempt to reassure him.

"It’s not your fault, Rafe. I made the decision to go, and I regret it, truly. But I can’t change what happened."

Rafe looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he saw the sincerity in your face. Slowly, he tilted his head down and kissed you tenderly. It was a gentle kiss, but it was filled with unspoken emotions, as if all you two needed at that moment was each other’s closeness. The intensity of the night began to fade in that simple gesture.

When they pulled away, Rafe looked at you again, this time with a faint but slightly sad smile.

you couldn't help but smile back, hugging him and feeling the safety of his arms around your tiny body, compared to his.

"I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything to make you worry this much again."

The atmosphere in Rafe’s house became warmer, calmer, as the shadows of the night continued their course outside the windows. The tension of the party seemed to fade with each passing second, as if that small refuge between them could make the world forget what had happened.

you lifted your head in his shoulder softly, looking at him with a slight smile.

"I love you, Rafe."

"I love you too, but I’d love you even more if you listened to me sometimes."

You tilted your head, looking at him with a light smile, your breathing still uneven from the tension lingering in the air.

"So, what are we going to do now?" you asked in a playful tone. The look you give to him was shining with a hint of mischief, only he knew.

Rafe looked at you silently, a mischievous glint crossing his gaze. He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against your face as he spoke in a whisper only you could hear.

"What would you like us to do?" he said, his voice low, almost like a challenge.

Before you could even answer, he pulled you firmly against him, his hand resting on your back, feeling his big hand touching you slowly, their lips meeting in a fiery, deep kiss, filled with the intention to feel all of each other. You couldn’t resist responding to the kiss, giving in to the intensity and the need of his touch, as though everything else around them faded away.

It was a kiss full of suppressed passion, as if they had both been waiting for this moment to release everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, and forget all the tensions caused by others.

When both pulled apart, your breathing was ragged, but Rafe didn’t let you go. He looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes locked on yours, almost undressing your body with his gaze, a suggestive grin playing on his lips.

“You didn’t behave, baby… and you know I like that.”

another one! hope you like it :)

[lost-in-lamentation]

failures, together.

a/n: (・・;)

content: not long after arriving at the devildom, you find yourself needing some affirmation from the representative of greed.

warnings: reader does kind of have a mental breakdown, but nothing intense.

mammon × gen!reader. hurt/comfort.

for @lulusupreme my beloved oomf (sorry i'm late)

“i just don't know what to do.”

“look, i don’t have any advice either. i'm only babysitting you cause lucifer threw you at me.” mammon clicked his tongue softly, turning away from your figure standing in the doorway. “if it weren't for him keeping goldie in jail, i would have tossed you outside already.”

“aren't you helpful.” with gritted teeth, you slammed the door and stormed further into his room, forcefully planting yourself on the other end of the couch.

mammon jerked at the action, whipping back around to face you. “oi, the hell you think you're doing?!”

grumbling, you crossed your arms and stared straight ahead of you at empty space. “i don't know, mammon. waiting to wake up from this nightmare, maybe?”

“we already told ya, human. this ain’t no dream or nightmare.”

“and i already told you, i have a name.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. my only job is to make sure you're not in immediate danger so just… don't go outside, ‘kay? i don't wanna have to watch you all the time.”

you felt your anger starting to bubble over, your knuckles white as you balled your hands into fists. “it's not fair.”

mammon only snorted at your statement. “damn right it's not fair. how come i had to get stuck with you? why not asmo-”

“no- what's not fair, is that i had to be dragged down here! for some stupid program? asking me what i think i'm doing, well what about you? what are you doing bringing a human like me down here?!” your chest began heaving with the effort to breathe and yell, the heat behind your fury turning white as you snapped at the demon.

the second born barely gave you a glance, his voice raising to match yours. “hell if i know! i didn't want some useless ragdoll with me here anyways!”

the words echoed in your brain, causing the last string of composure to snap. “useless… ragdoll…”

mammon finally turned his head to look at you, ready to let loose another string of harsh insults, only to stop when he saw the expression on your face. “uh… human? what's going on with you?”

you lifted your hands shakily, palms up as they stopped just before they could cup your own face. “that’s all i am, isn’t it? useless?”

“o-oi, you’re freaking me out here-”

“you agree, don’t you?!” with shallow breaths, you snapped at him, feeling your desperation spill out in the form of tears. “so then why did they bring me here…?” you curled into yourself slowly, hands wrapping at the base of your neck and gathering fistfuls of your shirt. “i’m not worth anything- i won’t be able to do anything,” you whispered out. “mammon, i’ve barely done anything yet and i’m already a failure.”

silence washed over you like an unforgiving wave. amidst your muted sniffles, you couldn’t make out any movements from the demon on the other side of the couch. after a few minutes had passed, you debated about getting up, hoping to run away to your room with no mention of this incident ever again. instead, when you opted to stand up, there was a much gentler voice than you imagined that broke through the quiet.

“i doubt it,” mammon whispered back.

ever so slightly, you shifted your gaze to the side to look at him. “... huh?”

mammon, now put on the spot, ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “trust me. in lucifer’s eyes, there’s no bigger failure than me. most of the time, at least.”

“really?” feeling a little braver, you lifted your head back up. you were just in time to see the tips of his ears dusted with embarrassment.

“ya don’t have to sound so happy about that!” mammon spared you a gaze that only lasted a second, perhaps too aware of the way you looked at him the way he wished his brothers did once in a while. “if there’s one thing about those guys, it’s that they know what they’re doing. and if they say you can do it, then you can. probably.”

as the last of your tears slipped away, you returned mammon’s words with a shaky nod. “you don’t think i’ll fail?”

scoffing, mammon crossed his arms and returned to his usual demeanor. “i didn’t say that.”

“oh.”

“but,” he continued a heartbeat later. “if lucifer calls ya a failure for no reason… you can always come and find me.” as soon as the words left his mouth, mammon jumped up to his feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides.

“so that we can be failures together?” you asked, a smile breaking into your expression.

“hey, even if we’re both failures, i’m still more fun than that stuck-up brother of mine.” the demon grabbed his leather jacket from his coat rack, shrugging it on before fishing around in the pockets for a set of keys. “let’s get going; i’m still babysitting you after all.”

you cleaned your face with your sleeves, making sure your eyes were dry before hopping up to follow mammon. “where are we going?”

“you’ve been here almost two weeks and ya still haven’t seen the whole of the devildom." mammon said, half laughing at the absurdity of it all. "can’t have you getting lost before you can do anything else.”

a/n: season 23 of my life begins today! and episode one is with mammon apparently

comments and reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 12 of 12

Synopsis: endings

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: violence?

masterlist

—

The sun was beginning to dip low on the horizon, casting an amber glow over the beach as the Pogues lounged in the sand, kicking back after a long, quiet afternoon. Pope and Kie were in the shallows, talking softly while John B. tried to fix an old boat motor that had been giving them trouble. JJ sprawled on a towel beside Y/N, tossing a small rock into the air and catching it absently, his usual energy subdued.

Y/N hadn’t missed the shift in his mood since the Midsummer’s Ball. He’d grown distant, quiet, like he was keeping something to himself. She couldn’t decide whether to be grateful that he hadn’t confronted her or frustrated that he couldn’t just say what was on his mind.

"Hey, you guys hear about the Kooks causing trouble around here again?" Kie asked, breaking the silence, her voice laced with annoyance.

Y/N glanced over at Kie, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"Just… they're getting bold," Kie muttered, shaking her head. "Topper’s been running his mouth about us. Can't stand the guy."

Before anyone could respond, the sound of an engine rumbled in the distance, cutting through the calm evening air. Y/N’s heart skipped as she looked up to see a familiar Jeep coming down the winding path toward the beach. Topper, Kelce, Ruthie, and—Y/N's stomach twisted—Rafe.

"Ugh, speak of the devil," Kie muttered under her breath, pushing herself up from the sand.

Y/N felt the tension immediately. The Kooks had no business being here, especially not now, not after everything. The last thing they needed was a confrontation—yet, it seemed like they were heading straight for it.

Topper’s voice rang out first, full of mockery. "Oh, look at this—Pogues on the beach, doing what they do best—being poor and pathetic."

Rafe climbed out of the Jeep, his eyes scanning the group, but instead of the usual smugness, there was something more measured in his stance. He was trying to play it cool, trying not to make things more obvious than they already were. Y/N could almost see the internal battle on his face.

"Not today, Topper," Rafe’s voice was low but firm, a hint of an order laced in the words. “We’re not here for this.”

Topper ignored him, turning to Pope with a sneer. "You think you're better than us, don't you? Maybe it's time we teach you a lesson."

He shoved Pope roughly, sending him stumbling back into the sand. Pope scrambled to his feet, but before he could get a word out, Topper’s fist was already in motion, landing a blow square to Pope’s jaw.

"Hey!" JJ was on his feet in an instant, charging toward Topper, but Rafe stepped between them before the fight could escalate. "Knock it off, all of you," Rafe said, his voice harder now. He glared at Topper and Kelce, his posture tense as he put a hand on Topper's chest, holding him back.

Topper’s eyes flicked to Rafe with confusion, then to Pope, who was trying to regain his balance. "What the hell is this, Rafe? You’re gonna side with these losers?"

"Just get out of here, Topper," Rafe repeated, his voice colder now. "You don’t want this fight. Not today."

Kelce, still looking a little too eager for a scuffle, tried to lunge forward, but Rafe’s hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him back with surprising strength. "I said leave."

Topper glared at him, but the warning in Rafe’s tone was clear. Without another word, they backed off, getting into the Jeep and peeling away from the beach. The Pogues were left standing there, still in shock, the tension hanging thick in the air.

Y/N rushed over to Pope, checking on him. "You okay?"

He nodded, brushing sand off his clothes. "Just a scratch, I’ll be fine."

The others gathered around, murmuring in confusion. It was obvious that Rafe had done something none of them expected—he had sided with them, helped them out. But why?

"Why the hell did he do that?" Kie asked, looking out toward the retreating Jeep. "That’s not like him. Why the sudden change?"

Y/N stood still for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath before stepping forward, speaking calmly but firmly. "I… I’m the reason."

The group turned toward her, eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?" Pope asked, frowning.

"I’ve been… I’ve been seeing Rafe," Y/N admitted, feeling the weight of their stares. "We’re together."

Silence hung in the air for a long moment as the group processed her words. Kie’s jaw dropped, and she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

Y/N nodded. "I know it’s not what you expected, but he’s different now. He’s changed. He’s not the same person he was."

Kie’s eyes narrowed, her face reddening with anger. "Are you serious, Y/N? After everything that guy’s done, you’re dating him?"

Y/N took a step back, feeling the sting of Kie’s reaction. "I know it’s hard to believe, but—"

Pope cut her off, his voice quieter than usual. "You’re really with him? After everything? Even knowing who he is?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "It’s not easy, okay? But he’s not like the Kooks anymore. He’s not like Topper or Kelce. He’s… trying. And I believe in him."

John B. was oddly quiet. Too quiet. He stared at the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets. His silence didn’t escape Y/N’s notice. There was something in the air between them, a silent understanding that was hard to place.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. "JJ," she said softly, turning to him. "What do you think?"

JJ looked up at her, his face unreadable, his eyes too calm. Too calm. Y/N felt her blood run cold, the realization dawning on her slowly.

He already knew.

"JJ?" Her voice trembled now. "You knew?"

He gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, shrugging slightly. "I figured it out. A while ago."

Y/N felt a chill creep through her. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

JJ didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her for a long moment, his gaze heavy with something unreadable. "You didn’t need me to say anything," he finally replied, his voice thick with regret. "I thought you had it under control. But I guess I was wrong."

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this… this quiet acknowledgment made it worse.

Without another word, JJ turned away, walking toward the ocean, his figure slowly disappearing into the fading light.

Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to go after him, to fix things, but something told her she couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

As the sun set, casting the beach in hues of orange and pink, Y/N realized that the silence between her and JJ might be the loudest thing she’d ever hear.

—

The sky had darkened, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only noise filling the night air as Y/N walked along the beach, her feet sinking into the wet sand. She hadn’t planned to come here—hadn’t really planned anything—but the need for space, for clarity, had led her here, away from the group and their questions.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

“Hey,” JJ’s voice broke through the quiet, and Y/N looked over to see him standing a few steps behind her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. His hair was messy, his face unreadable.

“You found me,” Y/N said, managing a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had expected him to follow her. She’d known it was only a matter of time.

“Couldn’t stay away, could I?” JJ replied, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it faded quickly. “We need to talk.”

Y/N nodded, stepping aside to let him walk up beside her. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the rhythm of the ocean filling the space between them. Y/N’s thoughts were racing—this conversation had been inevitable, but she wasn’t sure how to even start. There was so much she wanted to say, but part of her didn’t know where to begin.

“How long have you known?” she asked, her voice soft but steady as she turned to face him. “About Rafe and me.”

JJ glanced over at her, a sad smile tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his posture defensive but tired. He didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to stare out at the dark water rolling in front of them.

After a beat, he sighed deeply. “Since Midsummers,” he said quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Her blood ran a little cold at the calmness in his voice. “For weeks?” she asked, almost in disbelief. “You’ve known about us for that long?”

JJ was silent for a moment, his gaze flicking to the water before locking with hers. “I saw you two at Midsummer’s. I saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you.” His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on. “I thought I knew what was going on. I thought you were just caught up in something with him, like maybe it was just a stupid mistake. But when I saw you laughing—like, really laughing, for the first time in so long—I realized... you don’t need me, Y/N.”

“You know, I thought I had it figured out. But when you told them about you and Rafe… I guess I didn’t expect it to hit like that.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, letting the words hang in the air between them. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to hear. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

JJ chuckled softly, but it didn’t sound like his usual laugh. It was empty. “Hurt me? Nah. I’m not mad, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t want to be the one to push you into saying something you weren’t ready for.” He looked over at her then, his eyes searching. “And now... now I just feel like I pushed you away.”

Y/N frowned, her chest tightening. She hadn’t expected him to say that, hadn’t expected the guilt that weighed heavy in his tone. "JJ, no. You didn’t push me away."

“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I was too busy with my own stuff, too wrapped up in whatever was going on with me.” JJ’s voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say more, but instead, he just exhaled sharply. “I didn’t even see what was happening between you and Rafe. I should’ve been there for you. But I didn’t—"

"JJ," Y/N interrupted gently, her voice soft but firm. She stepped closer to him, meeting his gaze. "You didn’t do anything wrong. What happened between me and Rafe—it’s not about you. It’s about me. I had to make my own choices, and I did. But it wasn’t because of you or anything you did—or didn’t do. It was because I needed to figure out who I am. I can’t keep waiting for people to tell me who I should be or what I should do."

She paused, watching him carefully. "I know it’s hard, but I’m not doing this to hurt you. It’s not about you."

JJ seemed to absorb her words for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in that familiar tight line, but his shoulders had relaxed a little. “I get it. I think I do, at least. I just… I’m not used to you being like this. I’m not used to seeing you with him, of all people.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her gaze softening. "I get that. I don’t expect you to understand everything, but I don’t want you to think it’s something you did. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it."

JJ looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, his signature half-smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I’m not as good at this whole ‘being a friend’ thing as I thought. But hey, if Rafe makes you happy, I’ll deal with it." His voice grew more serious. "I just want you to be okay, Y/N. That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

JJ seemed to absorb her words for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in that familiar tight line, but his shoulders had relaxed a little. “I get it. I think I do, at least. I just… I’m not used to you being like this. I’m not used to seeing you with him, of all people.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her gaze softening. "I get that. I don’t expect you to understand everything, but I don’t want you to think it’s something you did. You’ve always been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it."

JJ stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like an insurmountable wall. Finally, he let out a long, tired sigh. “I get it,” he said, his voice quiet now. “I just—I guess I didn’t expect to feel so damn useless.”

Y/N’s heart twisted in her chest. She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, her hand resting gently on his arm. “You’re not useless, JJ. You’re not. You’ve always been there for me. Always. But I have to figure this out for myself. And I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear. I never meant for it to be this way.”

He looked down at her hand for a moment, then met her gaze. His eyes were still filled with that mix of sadness and understanding, but there was something else there now—a hint of resignation, like he was finally accepting the way things had to be.

“I know,” he said softly. “And maybe I do need to let go a little. It’s just... hard.” He shrugged, a weak attempt at a smile tugging at his lips. “But I’ll get there. Eventually.”

Y/N nodded slowly, relieved that he wasn’t angry with her. There was still pain between them, but maybe this was how they moved forward. Not together like they used to be, but still a part of each other’s lives in a different way.

“I’ll always be your friend, JJ,” she said softly, squeezing his arm. “No matter what. That’s never going to change.”

He gave her a small, tired smile, but it was enough. “I know.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the air thick with the understanding between them. Y/N’s heart was lighter now, and she felt a sense of relief she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Hey,” JJ broke the silence again, his voice a little lighter, “You’re still my favorite pain in the ass, you know that?”

Y/N chuckled, the familiar warmth creeping back into her chest. "Right back at you, J."

JJ nudged her playfully, the first spark of mischief returning to his eyes. "So, if you’re dating Rafe, does that mean I get to punch him in the face next time he pisses me off?"

“You’re impossible,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

JJ’s expression softened, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, if Rafe goes back to his old Kookish ways, you know where to find me, right?”

Y/N chuckled lightly, a mix of relief and affection in her gaze. “I’m not worried.”

“Good. But just in case,” JJ added with a wink, “I’ll be waiting.”

As they stood there, the waves crashing softly behind them, it was like a weight had been lifted—some unspoken tension between them had finally been laid to rest. They weren’t where they used to be, but maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.

—-

It had been a few months since that tense evening at the beach, and things had slowly started to shift. The Pogues and Kooks still didn’t exactly mingle like old friends, but the air between them wasn’t as heavy as it once was. The days of outright hostility were behind them—well, mostly. It was a work in progress, but progress had been made.

The group had gathered again at the Boneyard, and this time, things felt almost normal. The waves crashed lazily on the shore, and the sun dipped into a mellow orange hue, casting the evening in that perfect, golden light. Y/N sat on the hood of a car with Rafe next to her, his arm casually draped around her shoulders, while the others hung back a bit, trying to bridge the divide in their own ways.

Kie and Pope had softened considerably, their initial distrust of Rafe and Sarah finally easing. It wasn’t that they were best friends yet, but there was a mutual understanding. Kie, ever the realist, still threw the occasional side-eye toward Rafe, but it wasn’t venomous anymore. Pope had accepted the change in Rafe, or at least, he was trying to.

“You know, this is weird,” Kie said suddenly, breaking the silence. She was sitting beside Pope on a weathered old bench, eyeing Rafe and Y/N. “I can’t believe we’re all just hanging out like this.” Her voice was a mix of disbelief and something else—like she was letting herself believe this might actually work.

Pope, who had been quietly observing, nodded. “I get it. But... I think it’s okay. Rafe’s trying, and Sarah, too. They’re not exactly the Kooks we remember.”

“Yeah,” Kie said, shifting her weight on the bench. “They’re... trying.”

Rafe, who had been chatting quietly with Y/N, glanced over at the two of them. He smiled slightly and gave them a small wave, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t expect them to be best buds, but there was something reassuring about not being treated like a villain at every turn.

Y/N caught his eye and smiled, her expression warm. She knew the weight of the situation, and though it hadn’t been an easy road, this felt like progress. Rafe had come a long way from the arrogant, entitled guy he used to be, and that was enough for her, for now.

The awkward tension in the air was still there, of course, but it wasn’t quite as suffocating. It was almost... manageable.

“Hey, anyone up for a game?” John B. called out, tossing a ball in the air. He was trying his best to lighten the mood, despite still avoiding eye contact with Rafe. There was a long-standing tension there, one that wasn’t easily erased. But John B. had accepted the reality of the situation. If Rafe was going to be in Y/N’s life, then he was going to have to get used to it.

A few people started moving toward the makeshift volleyball net that had been set up, and Sarah, noticing the change in the mood, made her way over to join them. She was surprisingly easygoing these days, something Y/N hadn’t expected but had grown to appreciate. It was clear that Sarah had softened, too—maybe because of her relationship with John B., maybe because she was finally trying to find a balance between her Kook world and the Pogues’ chaotic one.

As the group began to get settled into the game, Y/N and Rafe stayed back, watching. They had their own quiet moment—just the two of them, away from the noise. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it tense—it was just... peaceful. The soft hum of the conversation from the others, the laughter echoing across the sand, the gentle rhythm of the waves—everything felt a little more settled than it had in the past.

“How long do you think this will last?” Rafe asked, his voice low as he looked over at the group.

Y/N didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she leaned back against the car, her gaze following the others as they huddled together, already bickering over who would serve first. It was the kind of bickering that felt like home. She was used to it—hell, she was part of it. But there was something about tonight, about how everyone was just... trying to make it work, that felt different.

“Longer than you think,” she replied after a beat, nudging him playfully. “You’re not as bad as they thought. Just give it time.”

Rafe looked over at her, his expression thoughtful. “You really think that?”

Y/N’s smile softened. “I know that,” she said, her tone confident. “Besides, I’m here, right?”

Rafe’s gaze lingered on her, a small, genuine grin forming at the corners of his lips. For a moment, he seemed to relax, as though her words were enough to settle something in him. It wasn’t about winning everyone over immediately—it was about doing the right thing and letting things happen in their own time.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost to himself. “I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to screw up... us.”

Y/N’s hand found his, her fingers lightly brushing against his. She squeezed it gently, reassuring him without words. The quiet moments between them had always been some of the best. She wasn’t in a rush to prove anything, and neither was he. They were building something slow and steady—something that would last.

“I know you won’t,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. They’ll see the change eventually.”

Rafe nodded, taking in her words. “Yeah,” he said, his smile growing a little more. “I think they will.”

As the game kicked off with loud laughter and friendly arguments over the rules, Y/N and Rafe stayed in their little bubble, watching the others interact. The group wasn’t perfect, but they were getting there. 

---

JJ stood for a long while, lingering by the edge of the Boneyard, his eyes fixed on the group. They were laughing, sharing stories, the sound of their voices blending with the rhythm of the waves, but he was still on the outside, watching quietly. The way Y/N’s smile brightened when Rafe said something to her. The way she leaned into him, her hand resting gently on his. There was a comfort there, an ease between them that made JJ feel like he was witnessing something both familiar and foreign at the same time.

He wasn’t jealous. At least, not in the way he used to be. It wasn’t the pang of unspoken longing anymore, the ache of what he thought could have been. No, this was different. This was the realization that Y/N had found something, someone, who made her light up in a way he hadn’t been able to.

JJ’s gaze flicked over to the rest of the group: Pope and Kie chatting with Sarah, the way they were making an effort now, and even Rafe, who—surprisingly��seemed to be fitting in, not as a villain but as someone who had done the work. He saw the way they had all softened over time, not just with each other, but with themselves.

And then there was John B., his best friend, his brother. The two of them, the ones who had always had each other’s backs, even when everything else seemed to be falling apart. John B. had grown up, too. He wasn’t the same reckless, carefree guy he used to be. He was still John B., but there was something different about him now, something grounded. And JJ could see it in his face—the way he was looking at the others, at Y/N and Rafe, without that old edge, without the tension that had always been there. It was like John B. had figured something out, too.

JJ’s eyes lingered on them, on the way the group was finally fitting together. There was a part of him that wondered if it would have been the same if he hadn’t stepped back, hadn’t realized that what he’d been holding onto wasn’t his to keep. But watching them now, laughing and comfortable in their own way, he knew that sometimes the hardest part was letting go. Letting go of expectations. Letting go of guilt. Letting go of a version of himself that didn’t fit anymore.

JJ realized, without fully understanding when or how it had happened, that things had shifted. Not just with Y/N and Rafe, not just with him, but with all of them. They were moving forward. They were different, but they were still together.

The breeze swept over him, cool against his skin, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel the weight of the past dragging him down. The guilt, the regrets, the missed chances—all of it felt distant, as if they were things he had outgrown. There was no need to keep carrying them, no need to keep pushing himself to be something he wasn’t. He could just be.

He stood there for a while longer, letting the quiet settle in, until his feet moved on their own, pulling him toward the firelight. He wasn’t sure what had changed exactly, but it was something big. Something important. Maybe it was the way he had let go of the things he couldn’t control. Maybe it was the way he had learned to accept that Y/N’s happiness wasn’t tied to him. But whatever it was, it felt like the first step toward something new.

When he finally rounded the corner and rejoined the group, Y/N’s gaze caught his. She didn’t say anything, just gave him that small, knowing smile—the kind she always had when things felt right, when everything clicked into place. It was a look that said, I see you, and for once, that was enough.

JJ didn’t need any fanfare. He didn’t need to make any grand gestures. He simply slid into his place in the circle, joining the easy rhythm of their laughter, the unspoken comfort of being together. There was no pressure, no need for explanations. The air felt lighter now, and everything, somehow, seemed to fit.

As he settled into the group, his heart wasn’t heavy anymore. There was peace in that, in knowing that he could just be himself, that he could let things be without needing to control them.

Things were changing. Slowly, but surely, the pieces were falling into place, and JJ  felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

------

Taglist: ​​

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin , @maybankslover , @ren-ni, @wh0reforbucknasty , @enjoymyloves , @bilssturns , @dragonslight , @willowpains , @sidney-86 , @urbrunettebombshell, @fluffybunnyu

[jeonqkooks]

a little taste | jjk (m.)

the one with just the tip.

[ ‘ a little taste ’ series masterpost ]

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: established relationship, smut (pwp), unprotected s✩x (this is fictional, don't do it irl folks), cre✩mpie, jungoo is an ✩ss grabber, he's also a lil shit, 2 secs of dirty talk?, swearing, they're both frustrated lol, zero editing pls forgive me

word count: 1.3k

note: happy sunday errbody! we got a surprise ALT drop 🥳 i have no excuse, i woke up this morning and wrote this in one sitting before i even got out of bed lmao. have fun all u horndawgs <3

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

You know how you got here, and the reason is very stupid.

It always starts with a meaningless discussion, really.

You two were having a quiet night in, cuddling on the couch and watching a rerun of your favorite TV show when a raunchy joke popped up, which somehow (because bless Jungkook’s brain and his useless ability to jump from point A all the way to point Z in a blink of an eye) led to the infamous “Just the Tip” debate.

You were taking the Negative, for obvious reasons, and he was on the Affirmative side. Jungkook wasn’t arguing that all men could handle themselves when their literal dick is inside of a woman; more so that he, this one specific individual, easily could.

And you suppose that’s why you’re here, trying to settle the argument, the both of you naked from the waist down. His hard cock pokes at your entrance as his eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint. Jungkook is always so competitive, but he sometimes forgets that you are too, and you’ll try your goddamn hardest to make sure he loses this one.

Okay, maybe it’s not just a silly little debate. It might have escalated into a silly little bet, one that involves the loser having to fold the laundry for a whole month.

Which so happens to be your least favorite chore.

Which only gives you more incentive to win.

Men are simple creatures, how hard can this be?

You bite your lip as he pushes in, just the tip, then stills. The stretch is a little dry at first, and a tad uncomfortable. You barely prepped before both of your shorts flew off somewhere in favor of you wanting to prove a point. Jungkook’s fingers slip through your folds to find your clit, fondling the nub until he could feel you getting wetter by the second, coating the tip of his cock in your slick.

“Ready to lose?” you ask coyly, to which he only responds with a playful scoff before he pulls his hips back, nearly slipping out of you in the process. He bucks forward again, and you can already tell that he’s trying to hold back, to be mindful of how shallow his thrusts have to be lest he wants to give you a few more inches than necessary.

“Fuck,” a tiny, whiny, moan escapes your lips, barely audible to your own ears but Jungkook catches it. He smirks at you triumphantly, never stopping his movements down there. God, you’re really not used to this. Whenever you two are on each other, it’s always hard and unrestrained, purely focused on making the other feel as good as possible.

How the hell is he so good at this? 

Maybe you should’ve known. What can’t Jungkook do?

You keep expecting more every time he pulls back, anticipating that his cock will fill you to the brim like it always does. But then he gives you just the fucking tip - which you suppose is fair; that’s the whole point of this idiotic bet after all - and you swear you could burst from frustration.

Jungkook senses your inner turmoil, how you’re trying to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you silly. You can’t say you’re surprised when he tugs his t-shirt over his head - in that insanely hot way that guys do! - and throws it recklessly across the room, flexing his abs and biceps at you. It’s like his tattoos have a mind of their own, the intricate ink winking at you with his every move like it’s mocking you, tempting you.

What’s on the line again?

Oh, right, laundry. Fuck!

You’re positively dripping with arousal, a want - no, a need - that he just won’t satiate. “That’s not fair,” you complain, even though your hands are already reaching for him, pulling him closer so you could touch him all over. 

“Who said anything about fair?” he says before he kisses you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips to taste you. He moans against your mouth as his fingers sneak down to squeeze your bare ass.

So he wants to play dirty? Well, you can do dirty too.

You time his thrusts so that when he ruts forward, you clench around his cock. 

That’s when you feel it. Him, deeper and throbbing inside of you.

For the first time since this started, you have the upper hand.

You break the kiss only to narrow your eyes at him. “That felt like more than just the tip,” you purr.

Jungkook groans, but it sounds more like a growl than anything. Okay, he’s really competitive. His hands dig into your ass so roughly that you’re pretty sure it will bruise in the morning. His hips stop moving entirely, trapping his cock within your walls where it’s achingly, deliciously hard.

You can practically feel his self-control slipping away, and all over a single clench?!

It might’ve taken you a bit longer than expected but alas, men are simple creatures.

You squeeze around him again, just for kicks. “What’s the matter, baby?” you tease, enjoying the way his eyebrows knit together tightly, almost like he’s angry. “Ready to admit defea– Oh!”

Then, that motherfucker shuts you right up. Jungkook shoves his whole length inside of you until he bottoms out, aided by the wetness that gushes out of you. He gives you a single grunt as the base of his cock rubs against your clit, the tension in your belly amping up tenfold when you feel him, so fucking deep in you because that’s where he belongs. This is what you wanted.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he mocks you with a sly smirk, though he doesn’t give you any time to answer before he starts fucking you with fervor, pounding you into the couch - or the next dimension - like he’s got a personal vendetta.

“I– fuck–!” If you could formulate a coherent response, you would shoot him back a retort - You lost! - but whoops, all rational thought flew out the window the second he rewarded you with his cock. It’s absolutely insane how easily he’s able to render you speechless just like that.

You struggle to even moan his name, for crying out loud. Jungkook holds your legs open so he could fuck you better, the tip of his cock kissing your g-spot with every thrust, sending you embarrassingly quickly to the edge you’ve been looking for. You hold onto him for dear life, nails digging into his shoulders and making him grunt from the added pain. It’s right there, you’re so close…

“C’mon,” he purrs, ducking down to suck a mark into the skin of your neck, “come for me. I know you want to.”

Just a few more thrusts and you’re falling right into that sea of bliss that awaits you at the bottom of the cliff. You come hard around his cock as a shout rips itself free from your throat - not even of his name, or anything in particular - and Jungkook is falling right behind you. He empties himself inside of you with a broken moan, warm ropes of his cum painting your velvety walls white. 

You hold onto each other like that for a while longer, neither of you caring about how his softening cock is letting your combined release trickle out of you and onto the material of the couch. You play with his hair as he kisses your neck softly, and when he finally props himself up on his forearms to look down at you, there’s something so sweet in his gaze that makes you flush all over.

It almost makes you forget about what you’ve been playing for. Rationality starts crawling back in again after the dicking down you just had.

Almost being the keyword. Too bad for your boyfriend though.

“I won,” you say happily, giving him your brightest grin.

“Did you really win though?” he asks, eyes narrowing playfully at you. Always the negotiator, this one. “Or did you want me to fuck you so badly that I let you win?”

“I won. You said just the tip and then you gave me your whole dick. Now prepare to fold the laundry for a whole month.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 14.05.2023]

[rassmentalism]

ONESHOT

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ- am i real?

pairings : carlgrimes x f!reader

warnings : sh, knife, cruel past, angst

words : 687

the night is quiet. too quiet. the kind that weighs on carl’s chest like a boulder, makes his fingers twitch against the grip of his gun. there’s no wind, no rustling leaves, no distant groans of the dead. just silence.

he hates silence.

you sit a few feet away, back against the wall of the run-down house you found for the night. your knees are drawn up to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them like you’re trying to hold yourself together. carl knows that feeling too well.

he watches you in the dim glow of the lantern, the flickering light casting long shadows across your face. you look tired. not just the kind of tired that comes from running all day, from swinging a knife into soft, rotting skulls, from watching your own back like it’s second nature. no, this is something else.

he knows what it is.

“you should sleep,” he says, voice low. he’s not looking at you when he says it. it’s easier that way.

you huff out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “should you?”

he shrugs. neither of you are sleeping tonight. that much is clear.

the silence stretches between you again, heavy and unspoken. the kind that’s worse than words.

then, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it—

“do you ever feel like you’re not real anymore?”

he turns his head, frowning. you’re staring at the floor, fingers clenched into the fabric of your jeans.

“like… like you could disappear, and nothing would change,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “like the world wouldn’t even notice.”

his stomach twists. because he knows. god, he knows.

“yeah,” he says after a beat. “i do.”

your breath shudders, and he catches the way your shoulders tense, like you regret saying anything at all. he wants to tell you it’s okay. that he gets it. that it’s not stupid. but the words die before they ever reach his tongue.

instead, he reaches for the knife at his hip and pulls it free. the metal catches the light as he turns it in his fingers, the motion slow, careful.

“what are you—”

before you can finish, he rolls up his sleeve.

his arm is a map of old scars, pale and faded, blending into the rest of his skin like they belong there.

you inhale sharply.

“carl…”

he doesn’t look at you. just presses the flat of the blade against one of the scars, tracing over it like he’s trying to remember.

“it doesn’t help,” he says finally, voice flat. “not really.”

you don’t say anything. maybe you already know that. maybe you don’t.

“hurts like hell, though,” he adds, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

your fingers twitch against your knee, like you want to reach for him but don’t know if you should.

he finally looks at you then. your eyes are wide, glassy.

“do you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

you flinch. then, slowly, you roll up the sleeve of your own jacket.

carl swallows hard.

your arm is lined with fresh cuts, some still red and angry, others barely healed. some shallow, some not.

his chest feels tight.

he doesn’t say anything. just sets the knife aside and holds out his hand.

you hesitate, glancing at it like you don’t understand what he wants.

“let me see,” he says.

your throat bobs as you swallow, but after a long pause, you finally reach out. your fingers are cold when they brush against his, but you don’t pull away when he turns your arm, tracing his thumb gently over one of the older scars.

“you’re real,” he murmurs.

your breath stutters.

“you’re real, and you’re here.”

your eyes shine with something he doesn’t want to name. something too fragile, too raw.

“it doesn’t change anything,” you whisper.

his jaw tightens.

“it changes everything.”

you don’t argue. don’t fight him on it. maybe you’re too tired. maybe you just want to believe him.

the night is still too quiet. but somehow, it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

quick note : i hope it wont trigger anyone.. thank u for all the support i got on my previous oneshots, i usually write cai bots so this format is different for me ;p

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same. 

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there. 

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night. 

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often. 

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it. 

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember. 

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to. 

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose. 

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t. 

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken. 

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess. 

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone. 

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently. 

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why. 

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving. 

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?” 

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option. 

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.” 

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that. 

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere. 

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

[dameronology]

moment's passed (matt murdock)

summary: based on say don't go by t.swift (x)

warnings: excessive use of the f-word. angst.

this is one of the from the vault songs that just fucking HITS me. i have been crying to this since it came out tbh. i hope you enjoy xx

-jazz

You had Matt Murdock.

Until you didn't.

Things had been sweet at first; he was a weathered lawyer who needed some light in his life. Somebody to come home to; somebody to properly love for the first time in his fucking life. It wasn't like the high he was chasing with Eletkra Natchios, or the familiarity he'd sought out with Karen Page. He got both things from your relationship, but you were...different. You gave him highs; you could make him feel like he was home and on a rollercoaster all at once. It was a feeling Matthew wanted to keep for the rest of his life. He would have been stupid not to. But wasn't that the thing about Matt? He was incredibly smart, but also incredibly fucking stupid. Almost bound to take someone for granted. He'd done it with Foggy, hadn't he? 

Five years. That was how long you made it before cracks began to appear in your foundations. You'd loved Matt for his Daredevil side at first; maybe he could go too far, but he'd always known when to stop (right?) and you admired him for it. For his bravery, for his candor, for the way he protected the city. It was like a dark and sexy secret that you prided yourself on keeping. It tied you together. You were part of it now. You were the person that Matt could come to about his darkest fears and worst nights. You were the person whose side he would curl up into during the night, craving someone to protect him for once. There was always the worry that he would go into deep and truly lose himself, but every time Matt found himself on the precipice of doing so, you would be there to hold him back - to keep him sane and to stop him letting Matt Murdock and Daredevil blur into one person. 

You were only a human being, though. So was he. Matt could save the city and everything in it but you couldn't save him from himself. Save him from coming home at 6AM - your agreement had always been 3AM at the latest - and sliding into bed beside you without a word, or save him from waking up in a bad mood and refusing to talk to you about it. No matter how many times you begged him to just spend one night in, or to not leave himself three hours to sleep before work. It all fell on empty ears and that hurt when he had fucking super hearing. Comforting cuddles at night turned into whispered touches and soon, those touches became backs turned to one another. Long conversations turned into polite niceties than eventually faded into silence. The happy relationship - breakfast together in the morning at the table and takeouts on the sofa at night - became a burden. A horse you were both flogging because staying together in silence was slightly less terrifying than whatever the alternative that left you alone was. Soon, you were the only one flogging said horse. Matt had dropped his stick a long time ago and turned away. He'd walked into the depths of Hell's Kitchen and you weren't sure he was ever coming back. 

This wasn't your fault. Maybe it wasn't his fault either but hell it was his burden to bear. You'd done nothing but love and support him and what did you get in return? Silence. Iciness. Long, tense moments of forced conversations. 

You got used to it eventually. Every night, he'd come stumbling in at 4,5,6AM, skin littered with bruises and wounds; some from that night and others reopened. Matt's skin was thick with scars now. They were forming a new Daredevil suit across his arms and legs and back and there was no taking it off. It was always there. Always a reminder. 

Matt was laying with his back to you; you watched with open eyes, as his breathing went from shallow and tense, to something a little deeper and softer. He was falling asleep. Tough fucking luck, Murdock, you thought, it's time to talk. 

You brushed a hand down his back - Matt arched like a cat, suddenly waking.

"Hey, Matty."

He sighed heavily. "I was sleeping."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were-"

"- I'm tired," Matt huffed. "Go to sleep."

"I'm tired too," you murmured. Tired of this. Tired of this silence. Tired of you.

"Sleep too, then."

"I will," you whispered. "What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm working all day. Probably late."

"Okay, goodnight," you said. "I love you."

Silence. 

The morning came and still, Matt barely spoke to you. He ghosted past you in the morning, hands fumbling for a clean shirt and pants. His shoes were pulled on and coffee made, and he was out the door before you'd even risen for work. That was purposeful. He never left earlier than 8AM and it wasn't even gone 7:30. Maybe he didn't want to talk. Maybe he just wanted to talk to anyone that wasn't you - which was funny, because you'd barely had a conversation in weeks. 

You had lunch with Karen later that day, about four doors down from the Nelson & Murdock office. Whatever dalliance she'd had with Matt was in the past - you two were good friends. She was level-headed and candid. You needed that in a friend. She always said what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to. 

"So, I'm gonna see this guy for a second date, I think," Karen was saying something. You were gone, eyes blankly staring past her. "But I'm not sure, because - hey, are you listening to me?"

"No," you admitted. "I'm sorry. I had a really shitty night."

Her face fell with concern. "What's going on?"

"Matt's losing himself to his night job," you admitted. "I haven't had a proper talk with him in fucking months. I don't think he's touched me since people liked James Corden, Karen. Do you know what a long time that is?"

"Jesus," she muttered. Without another word, she pulled out her diary and flicked through it. "Look, it says he's got his whole afternoon wide open today. He went home at midday I think."

You faltered slightly. Either Karen was mistaken or Matt was a fucking liar and had fed you bullshit about being busy this afternoon. The worst part was that you knew Karen never made mistakes when it came to her secretary job. She had a Pinterest board for everything and her Google calendar synced up to ten different devices. She probably wasn't wrong and lying to you, although a new development, was pretty in line with how Matt had been lately. It felt like the final nail in the coffin. The thing that sealed your relationship's fate.

"I..." you muttered. "Okay. Will you hate me if I ditch early to go and talk to him?"

Karen shook her head. "No. Go."

That subway ride was the longest of your ride. It felt like every stop was twice as long; like every red signal lasted ten years. Had the walk from the platform to the barriers always been this long? Had the street from the station to your apartment been this stretched out? Your feet had never hurt more as you sprinted up the stairs from the lobby to your apartment. The door was on the latch - Karen was right, he had been home - and you booted it down with ease. Matt jumped up from the sofa as you did.

"What are you-"

"- you're a fucking liar!" you snapped. 

There was a lingering silence for a moment. Matt was a man of few words but he had very rarely found himself speechless.

"I'm done," you muttered.

"Done with what?"

"I'm done with you," you said. "I'm done with us. With this shitty relationship. Do you know how long I've been trying? How long I've been begging you to give me some kind of attention? Months, Matt. I've been dying for MONTHS and you haven't cared."

"I haven't been ignoring you-"

"- please don't lie to me," you cut him off again. 

The silence returned. You might have been half way out the door for months but Matt had been the one holding it open. The worst part was that you loved him to your very core and if he just said the words then - stay, don't go - or even any fucking word in the human language that hinted at a glimmer of hope, you would have thought twice. Maybe your apartment was a ghost town now but it was haunted with what used to be. Maybe there was a chance to go back to that. Just maybe. You would take maybe. 

The seconds passed. One, two, three. You counted them as they went, right up until you hit sixty. The dreaded one minute mark. That was more than enough time to beg. You could have done it in thirty. But he'd said nothing. The silence now said more to you than Matt had in the last three months. 

"Do you have nothing to say?" you quietly asked. 

"Right," you murmured. "I'm really done then."

"Just...think about this?" Matt said. His voice wavered slightly. There it was. The thing you'd been wanting to hear. It was just one minute too late. 

"Moment's passed, Matty," 

[inmyheaddd]

your lips my lips, apocalypse - jameson hawthorne x reader

wc: 2.3k warnings: kissing, friends to lovers, very fluffy masterlist

you were two young and dumb teenagers, finding solace in each other's company.

your relationship with jameson was a long one, stretching back years into early childhood.

you two never really talked before; you both assumed the other was like all the other people in your social circle. too rich to care, not a worry in the world, and about as deep as a kiddie pool. 

that all changed one night a year or two ago, at a fundraiser event your family and his were hosting together.

you hated things like this sometimes—the way your parents showed off as something to look at, a trophy, instead of someone to know.

after one too many introductions and sticking to your mom's side feeling like a lost child, you excused yourself, and maybe the tears that flooded your eyes wouldn’t have been so immediate if you didn’t see the relief that washed over your mothers face. 

you walked to the one place that was yours, tears threatening to spill with each step. it felt stupid, really. nothing particularly bad happened, so why did you feel bad? 

you finally reached the bottom of the stairs of the wine cellar, only to find a figure sitting on the last step. 

what?

the person's head turned immediately, hearing the clicks of your heels. 

even in the faint lighting, you recognized the boy. jameson hawthorne.

the troublemaker of the hawthorne grandsons, endless green eyes, and a charming smile that could kill. 

his eyebrows raised as he noticed you, holding a bottle of something in his hand. "what are you doing here?" he asked, his face otherwise expressionless.

your sadness made way for frustration. who did he think he was, sitting in your spot, asking you what you were doing?

“this is my house?” 

“okay. what are you doing here?” 

you scoffed, “i could ask you the same thing. all your brothers are upstairs, why aren’t you?” 

he turned to face away from you, taking another swig from what you now recognized to be a flask. “well i’m not my brothers, aren’t i?” 

you stayed silent. 

he must’ve realised how hurt he sounded, so he spoke again, “just needed a breather, that’s all.” 

maybe he wasn't as shallow as you thought.

you had so many questions, one of them being “how the hell did you even find this place?”. after a few beats of silence, you settled on a different one.

“well, mind if i join?”

he gestured to the spot next to him, “be my guest.” you tentatively took a step closer, smoothing out the bottom of your dress before sitting down on the step.

“aren’t you my guest? you’re in my house after all.” you fought the smile that found your face, then he turned to look at you, a similar grin on his face as well. 

“you’re not what i expected,” he said, tilting his head to the side, slightly narrowing his eyes. 

now it was your turn to turn away and look forward, shrugging your shoulders as you did so. “i try.” 

minutes turned to hours, and you found out that you and jameson were actually quite similar. 

as cliché as it sounded, you often felt older than you were. adults didn’t take you seriously, but kids your age around you didn’t get you. 

jameson did though, and he found himself actually being understood by anyone other than his brothers for once. you found comfort in eachother, and soon enough your bond was unbreakable.

you and jameson running off from events together became a common occurrence.

one particular time, the event was at his house. 

your cheeks began to hurt from all the fake smiles you’d been giving out. that was one of your key signs it was time to leave.

after a few minutes of mindless strolling around the hawthorne house, you settled on sitting by the pool.

you couldn’t swim right then, obviously, but it felt heavenly to take off your heels and dip your feet in the water.

god knows how long you were out here for. it was completely dark now, apart from the lit-up pool and windows from the house. 

you took your gaze up to the sky, leaning back on your arms to fully see the stars. 

when you looked back in front of you, you noticed jameson 50 feet or so away, walking towards you.

you look back at your lap, only letting your eyes find his once he sat beside you, rolling up his suit pants to dip his feet in the water. 

“hey, stranger,” he said to you, his grin starting to make an appearance.

“hey there yourself,” you responded back, slightly nudging your shoulder with his.

“what finds you here on this fateful night?” he eyed your high heels you placed on the floor then looked back to you.

you snorted, “you really want an answer to that?” 

“not really,” he grimaced, “i can assume it’s the same reason i’m here.” 

you looked back at your lap, "yeah, you’re probably right on that on that.” your fingers were mindlessly fidgeting with your skirt that ended just at your mid thigh. 

he noticed the sadness on your face; he couldn’t take it anymore.

he gasped dramatically.

“you’re also here as an underco-“

“—please don’t finish that sentence,” you said with a laugh. 

you always knew when he was going to make a stupid joke to make you feel better. or maybe it was the dramatic gasp, mixed with the mischievous glint in his eye, and his widened grin that you noticed all before he spoke, that gave it away.

but hey, he made you laugh. mission accomplished.

“sorry, cinderella, not in the mood for jokes?” 

he started calling you cinderella a while ago, because “you’re always mysteriously running off from parties early.” you asked if that would make him your prince charming, to which he shrugged and said, “i’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

you responded, “i’m in the mood to get the hell out of here, then maybe a few dumb jokes wouldn’t be so bad.” you tilted your head as you spoke, and you couldn’t help the smile that found your face when jameson's hand laid on top of yours, his thumb drawing small circles. 

“then we’ll get the hell out of here.” 

you looked down at your knees, noticing how yours and his were touching, but neither of you made an effort to move them apart. 

you also noticed the soft hum of the music coming from inside the house, the warmth coming from jameson's side, the dim lights, and how everything felt so still, your previous worries long gone. 

you wondered why you only felt this peace with jameson next to you. 

“actually i changed my mind, we don’t have to get the hell out of here. 5 more minutes?” 

you looked up at him expectantly, and you were pretty sure a smile was permanently etched on your face.

well, atleast that's how it was with jameson. 

“whatever you want. 5 more minutes it is.” he replied with a wink.

“actually, i wanna go.” 

“then let’s go.”

“i changed my mind, i wanna stay.”

he chuckled, “then we stay.” 

“are you seriously doing whatever i say?” 

“of course i am, why wouldn’t i?” he responded without missing a beat.

“you’re crazy.” a light giggle escaped your lips, and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“only for you.” he responded half jokingly.

you weren’t too sure when you and jameson got like this: jokingly flirting, meaning nothing on the surface, bearing your soul and deepest secrets to each other, not seeing each other for days— weeks even, then meeting again feeling like no time has passed.

maybe soulmates were real.

or maybe, you were just two good friends. 

maybe, he was just a nice person to talk to. 

or maybe, you were falling for jameson. 

jameson's arm around your shoulder and the trail of his hand running up and down your arm brought you back to the present moment. 

with your eyes trained on your legs that were now pressed against his, you mumbled, “you know, i made progress today. i didn’t stick by my parents the whole time. i actually tried to make conversation with people.”

you took a deep breath in before continuing, exhaling as you spoke. “granted everyone was like 40, and i was deeply uncomfortable, i still made progress.” you couldn’t bite back the sarcastic undertone in your voice.

jameson seemed to find that funny, or maybe he just wanted to make you feel better, either way, you felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest. 

“hey, any progress is still progress. if it helps, i only did three things possibly detrimental to my mental and/or physical health this week instead of my usual 7.” he added casually.

you wish you could take away all of his hurt, to kiss him all over until he felt a little better. 

but friends don’t do that. 

you knew he hated feeling like he was broken. so instead of telling him every little thing you love about him and how he deserves better than how he’s treating himself, you just laughed along. 

“how motivating of you, thanks.”

“of course, cinderella.” 

you turned your palm upwards and intertwined your fingers with his.

you squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

in his eyes, that was consolation enough. you never saw him any differently, even after everything he’s been through and everything he’s told you. you were quite possibly his favorite person. what did that mean? 

when you decided it was a good time to get going, jameson got up first, then put out a hand and helped you up. 

you dried off your feet, put your shoes back on, and he did the same.

“where do you wanna go?” he asked, briefly glancing down at you as you walked together. 

you hummed for a second before an idea sparked up in your mind. “why don’t we go to that one ice cream place?”

“is it open this late?”

“pretty sure it’s 24/7.”

“perfect.” he responded. 

then he had another question, “isn’t it a 30 minute walk?”

you smiled at him, “perfect.” you echoed.

he laughed at that. but honestly, he was as glad to be as far away from his house as possible. he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could.

your hand was brushing against his, and in an instant like he knew what you were thinking, he subtly grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours once again. 

30 minutes of breathless laughs, butterflies in your stomach, stupid jokes, and random questions later, you arrived.

you two got an oreo milkshake, instead of getting one each, you decided to share.

jameson got two straws and put them both on the cup at the same time. 

he angled one towards you, then you realised what he was trying to do.

“there’s no way,” you almost snorted.

“what?” he looked at you with a smile. 

“i’m not doing that, jameson.” you stated. but inside, you were screaming. you swore your stomach did 50 flips. 

“just this once?”

“no.”

“suit yourself,” he grinned at you, and then took a sip of the milkshake. 

you gave him a fake dirty look, which he returned, before you both starting laughing.

20 minutes later you two were in deep conversation, the milkshake long forgotten.

you two were talking about everything and nothing. from your moms, times you met but didn’t even realize it, childhood stories, debating if avocados or mangoes are better, to “if you could be a planet, which one would you be?”

that’s how it always was with jameson, there was never any pressure. talking to him was the easiest thing in the world.

the air conditioner was hitting your table directly, and you didn’t have a jacket.

jameson eyed you, cutting off his sentence. “are you cold?”

“no, i’m fine.” you wish your body didn’t choose right then to shiver. 

without hesitation, he got up from his seat and sat next to you in the booth.

jameson wanted to slap himself for leaving his jacket back at the house, but it gave him an excuse to wrap his arms around you. 

the laugh that left your lips when he did so made him feel like his heart was on fire, and his face too. 

you noticed the milkshake on the table, and noticed how jameson had barely even touched it. 

“you know, im kind of feeling that milkshake now.” you mumbled. 

“yeah?” he leaned forward and grabbed it with his free hand and handed it to you.

the two straws were still inside, and you angled your body so you were facing jameson. 

you tilted milkshake towards him, and then he started to take a sip. 

you leaned in to drink some as well from your straw, your foreheads were basically touching now.

then he smiled at you. 

god, his smile was dangerous. 

and it was damn near impossible not to smile back. 

you both finished the milkshake with slightly too much eye contact to only be friendly, and jameson took the cup from your hand, placing it back on the table without tearing his face away from yours. 

your gaze landed on his lips, which were slightly parted, then you looked back up at his eyes. 

his hand found its way to your jaw and he captivatingly held your gaze, asking a silent question.

you answered by leaning in, finally crossing that boundary of friends-or-something.

your arms wrapped around his neck, and your head tilted to the side.

he tasted sweet, the remnants of the milkshake still in his mouth.

every single nerve in your body heated up, you felt like you were burning, despite the freezing temperature. 

you pulled back with a smile, and he chased your lips. you let out a chuckle, and then your forehead was resting on his. 

the walk home was even better this time.your hand in his, talking about how stupid you both were to not see the obvious feelings you had for each other.

when it was time for you to go home, he kissed you once again. 

you officially discovered your new favorite activity.

[nanaminokanojo]

BAD NEWS (part 50)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | band au | college au | stupid pining | aged-up characters | friends to lovers (?) | smut

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon, etc. | god-awful pet names | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 50 next>>

A/N: Panels at the end of the narration.

The heavy thuds in your chest accompanied each step that you took from Sukuna's car to your doorstep. The deep breath you took remained baited in your lungs up until the moment you reached the door and had to turn around to wave goodbye at him. And the moment he drove away, you exhaled loudly, tapping at your chest as you adjusted the nylon mesh bag for your soccer ball over your shoulder.

What he did in the car was absolutely unexpected, and though you didn't want him to see just how much it had affected you, your ears and cheeks had been warm long before you exited his car. The image of his smug grin drove you crazy, knowing that he was fully aware of the fact that he had that effect on you. The feeling was so weird, considering what he had always been to you for as long as you could remember.

Shaking your head, you unlocked the front door, distracting yourself with your phone to check messages as you blindly made your way up to your room.

The silence as you traversed from the first floor to the second pretty much told you that Satoru wasn't at home. He usually wasn't at that time of the day. Just as well. You didn't want to face him when you're getting all confused with Sukuna.

You haven't even made it halfway through the long hallway when you heard the sound of a door opening to your right. Before you knew it, you collided with something, startling you and making you lose your footing. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when Suguru suddenly came into view, eyes as wide as yours were as he kept you on your feet. He felt warm and damp against the skin of your arms, his hard chest pressed against yours, droplets of water saturating the fabric of your jersey from his raven hair that hung around his face.

"Careful, kitten." You felt the soft purr of his voice through his chest instead of hearing it through your ears. "Didn't know you were home."

You just stared at him, unable to form words, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses with every shallow breath you took. Suguru just looked so mesmerizing fresh out of the shower with his luscious hair down and his slightly tanned skin so smooth over his hard, well-defined muscles on full display –

Realizing that, you jumped back, swallowing hard as you finally got a look of the whole picture. You've seen him shirtless before, but not in just a pair of tight-fitting, black boxers that accentuated his...

You shook your head, chuckling nervously – why the hell were you chuckling? – and stepping back to pick up your ball and gym bag. "What are you doing here?"

"Satoru and I have stuff to do tonight so he told me to come here ahead of him. I'm on break."

You rolled your eyes when you saw him smirking at you. You just know your ears were all red again. "Well, don't go walking around like that." And for some embarrassing reason, your next move was to level your expression to his, openly checking him out as you leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"What?" he said between soft laughter.

"Don't go parading about like that."

He scoffed. "Says the little kitty who's ogling me right now." He took a step towards you, making you move back jerkily when he bent down to your height. "Wanna touch?"

"What the hell –"

"Or take a photo. Lasts longer, mm?"

Gathering all your wits, you made a face at him and even made a show of pushing past him as you walked to your room like he didn't affect you. "Get dressed, Geto." You looked at him behind your shoulder. "You look indecent."

At that, he scoffed but still retained his sly grin. "You and your dirty mind, kitten."

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240602]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.