#I don't really write this is just a lil dump

[jemz-wry]

Soul Jazz

Made a lil thing while listening to this playlist, been getting into these type of songs more recently (blame it on my Lupin iii addiction coming back) •

They laid near the window nook, feeling quite exposed if not for the blanket of raindrops covering the glass. Head relaxed on it, the pressure felt like a little massage for the brain. Knees held together up to their chest, being their own blanket… Music accompanied their mind, trying to compartmentalise their thoughts, make it tidy. But the more they unpacked the more they stopped to see how well kept it was. Who knows? could be handy later.

They usually didn’t like slow songs like this, it just further empathised how full the place felt.

This would be easier with company, but that wasn’t an option right now. 

For now, we just had to take it slow and easy. (not really steady, commitment to consistency is too much for them) 

Finally they decided what to dwell on, as the voices sang slowly, silky?.. No, velvety. The lyrics were about love, they usually avoided those songs, but romantic love might not be far from the love they expressed maybe.

Romantic that it was earnest and embarrassingly desperate. Friendship others would call it, but this guy always had a hard time with what the feeling is supposed to be. Romance is intimate, intense, passionate. Friendship was casual, friendly. What a limitation of what these feelings could be, all of the above felt ideal. Whatever people say what these feelings can be, They just knew they wanted to be like the things they watched.

Friends staying in the same home, always sticking together despite their conflicts. Playful and Mischievous domesticity. Maybe even the occasional touch of those rivalries, opposite views of the world, but somehow they were attracted to each other. Exciting. Riveting. Yet somehow had an assumed intimate understanding of one another.

This was really sappy, not everyone would understand this need and even if they did, they won’t just let them be their partner for life.

A sigh is all they can muster, ‘I’ll just have to handle this on my own’, they thought. They let their body relax and sink, warm comfy velvet cushions underneath them as they closed their eyes… Maybe that didn’t seem so bad.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

[girlygguk]

DENIAL | JJK (Part 1)

➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.

➵ pairing ; idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

➵ word count ; 5.3k

➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni

➵ content ; jealous (& possessive 🫣) asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.

➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, nipple play, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.

➵ a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah

masterlist | denial pt2 | join my taglist | banner credit

Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.

There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something. 

A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.

Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.

The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.

Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men—six of which you've become good friends with since your brother introduced you—come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.

"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.

Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.

Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."

That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"

You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."

Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.

You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.

"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."

Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit. 

It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.

The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.

"You needa put that in the recycling bin."

Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.

"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.

"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."

You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.

"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.

His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.

"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."

He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap. 

Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours. 

His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.

His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.

Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"

Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."

So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.

The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.

Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."

Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to. 

Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."

And you do.

You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.

His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.

"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.

His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."

You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.

"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"

"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."

Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm. 

Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.

A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."

A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.

"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.

"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.

"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.

His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.

"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.

Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.

"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."

"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."

Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.

You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.

Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.

Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise. 

"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.

Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.

"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.

Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.

It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again. 

"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.

"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.

You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.

"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."

His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his ear, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."

part two out now💗: click here

[apt502-if]

Maybe in future edits of the game could there be the option to not be so mopey about Rainn? It'd be so nice to completely and fully detach from them, and although I pick to always be dismissive or indifferent when the option comes to choose if MC cares about Rainn or not, in the singer route (maybe all routes?) MC is taken out of the vibe of singing to think about Rainn and it just takes me out the immersion.

I know writing is a looooot of work and you've been busy so long so obviously you don't gotta take this lil gripe seriously but it'd just be real nice for players like me who'd like MC to have the option to be a bit less affected, if you ever happen to consider it! Promise that beside that I LOVE the game so you sure aren't losing a fan. 😅

It's only been around two days since MC gets dumped by Rainn. It's canon that MC was in love with Rainn and that the breakup hits them really hard since they expected to start an entire life with them. The indifferent/detached options for right now is MC's attempt to do so but failing because of how fresh it is :< After some time then you can detach completely but it's still too new.

I don't think I'm going to change that part so I apologize :< but I assure you it won't be for much longer. I’m happy you enjoyed it otherwise and thank you ❤️❤️

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

So uh. I had this super dumb idea and decided to roll with it.

Which I guess is kinda how writing works on the whole but anyway.

Here's the first chapter of a Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB Reader fic that absolutely no one asked for but my brain dumped on me anyway.

Whole first chapter is basically setting the scenario. Bear with me here. I intend for this to be both heartfelt and fcking hilarious in equal measure. As of right now I don't really have plans for it to carry on for more than three or four chapters, but who knows.

Timeline is set to around a decade after Gol D. Roger's death, prior to Mihawk having status as a Warlord of the Sea. He'd be in his late 20s to early 30s (don't ask me to math right now, it's almost five in the morning, I'll be more specific later). So not super-young Mihawk. He definitely already has his silly lil adorable pointy goatee/moustache that we all know and love so very much.

I don't even have a damned title yet. We'll just call it, uh. I don't know. Fucking uh........

Flight Risk

Ch. 1 of who even knows

Next Chapter Link

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

No trigger warnings yet, possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Word Count: 3420

Only a few months had passed since you enlisted with the Marines, and nothing seemed to be going right. You were clumsy with both melee and ranged weapons, not particularly strong physically, and while you had improved through training you weren’t learning at nearly the same rate as the other recruits. It was no help at all that your somehow borderline useless devil fruit abilities had somehow been exposed and you were now the target of constant torment from other cadets, and even some superior officers.

You almost wanted to give up entirely.

You spent most of your free time hiding away from your peers at an old dock on the base to avoid the teasing. It was here you say now, arms wrapped around your knees and glaring out toward the setting sun after another day of being squawked at and offered crackers. All because you had taken a stupid dare from a stupid friend when you were six years old and eaten that stupid fruit.

You let out a heavy sigh at the sound of footsteps behind you, certain that one of your tormentors had discovered your hiding spot.

“Really not in the mood,” you said aloud, not bothering to look over your shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just as much fun talking about me behind my back—”

But instead, a commanding voice that made your breath catch in your throat and your eyes grow wide as saucers answered. You recognized it as its owner spoke your name aloud—anyone on base would have recognized it. You quickly scrambled to your feet and turned around to face Bogard with your hand raised in a salute, trying to keep your knees from shaking.

“S—sorry, sir, I—” He just held up a hand to stop you, and your mouth snapped shut immediately. His own mouth remained turned down in his usual characteristic frown, and after a moment he let out a vaguely frustrated sigh.

“Vice Admiral Garp requires your presence. Please follow me.”

You remained glued to the spot for a moment even as he turned on his heel and began to stride away. Garp and Bogard had shown up at the base a week ago on some business from headquarters that was being kept quiet around the rest of the base. You quickly forced yourself to follow after Bogard, your stomach in knots as you jogged to catch up to his long strides.

He didn’t speak again until you were outside the door of the office the vice admiral was occupying, turning to face you with his arms crossed. You quickly saluted again, your eyes still wide, burning the slightest bit—you were fairly sure you hadn’t blinked a single time since he had first addressed you.

“At ease, cadet.” You swallowed, lowering your hand and folding it behind your back with your other. “The vice admiral has some questions for you,” he said in brief explanation, opening the door. “Come.” You flinched as you followed him in, Garp’s booming voice meeting your ears as he shouted at someone through the den den mushi on his desk. It was clear he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Again?” he was saying, pacing behind the desk. “Yeah, I got it. Why do you think I’m at this shithole of a—” He gave a growl of annoyance, his grip tightening around the speaker. “Yes, Fleet Admiral. I think if I could manage to capture Roger, I can handle some brat calling himself the World’s Stronge—”  He closed his eyes tightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I’m well aware of the threat. Doesn’t make him any less of a brat. With all due respect, sir, I know what I’m doing, Yeah. Uh-huh. Yeah. Understood.”

He dropped the handset back onto the den den mushi, sitting heavily in his chair behind the desk, strumming his fingers on the arm for a moment impatiently.

You felt as if you might pass out any second as you stood in front of the desk, trying to keep yourself still but still fidgeting slightly as your nervousness evolved toward something more like abject terror. There was no way this was about anything good. The vice admiral was here on orders handed down directly from his own superiors at Marine Headquarters. Vice Admiral Garp, recognized the world over as the hero of the Marines, the man that had brought Gold Roger to justice barely a decade ago.

An officer of his status wouldn’t waste his time with a lowly cadet like yourself unless the situation was incredibly dire.

When he finally lifted his eyes to look at you, you sprang immediately into a salute, and it was all you could do to keep your knees from buckling. He glanced at Bogard, standing off to the side and idly flipping through a book on one of the shelves along the right side of the office walls. “This the one?” asked Garp.

“It would seem so,” he affirmed.”

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering over you. “At ease, cadet.”

Once more you folded your hands behind your back—though in literal terms, you were anything but at ease. Your face flushed and your legs visibly shaking at this point, it was all you could do to keep your eyes on his.

The vice admiral gave a small snort of amusement at your nervous state as he picked up a folder from his desk—a folder with your name written on the tab.

“Calm down, you’re not in any trouble,” he said. You still swallowed nervously, your mouth turning down ina  slight frown. He read your name out loud at the top of the file before going on. “Says here your old man was a Lieutenant. Died in the line of duty among a fleet that took on a division of the Whitebeard pirates.”

“Y—yes, sir,” you said, giving a short nod when he glanced at you from over the top of the folder. “He’s the reason I enlisted.”

“Revenge?” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

“No, sir,” you said quickly, shaking your head. ��I looked up to him. He wanted to make the world a better place. Safer. That’s...why I enlisted.”

He nodded slowly, observing you for a long moment as he seemed to mull over your answer. “Good to hear,” he said finally, lowering his eyes back down to what you could only assume was your enlistment paperwork. “Revenge is thankless work. Your old man was a damned good Marine. Honorable. Sounds like the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.” You relaxed the slightest bit in the approval at his tone—it was perhaps the first compliment you had gotten from any of your superiors. “Unfortunately, we’re not here to reminisce. This is official business. And confidential.” He set the folder down on his desk, still open, meeting your eyes again. “I’ll need your word right now that you won’t repeat anything we discuss here to anyone.”

Your eyes widened a little, and you nodded quickly. :Of course, Vice Admiral,” you said immediately, your heart hammering in your chest.

He nodded slowly himself, picking up a lowball glass of what appeared to be whiskey from his desk. He gestured with his free hand to the chair across from him. “Then have a seat. We could be here awhile.”

You glanced at the chair behind you, and took a few steps backwards, folding your hands in your lap. You couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of official business he might have with you. You were a new recruit, tended to blend into the background—at least you had, until word had gotten out about….

Your stomach dropped at Garp’s next sentence.

“I understand you’re a devil fruit user?”

“I…am,” you said slowly, almost cautiously. You had received nothing but jeering and taunting for your ability, even before you enlisted. “It’s…not exactly a useful ability, though.”

“You don’t think so?” he said, with a hint of a smirk, and you shook your head, your eyes dropping down to your knees. “‘Omu Omu no Mi,’” he read off from the file. “‘Zoan type devil fruit. Gray parrot.’ You’ve had the ability for…fifteen years?” You nodded shortly, your brow still furrowed in your growing confusion. “You can’t think of any application where that would be useful?”

Your remained silent for some time, wondering if it was a trick question, some sort of joke at your expense. Sure the vice admiral wouldn’t waste his time calling you here for the sake of a joke. After a moment, you shook your head, lifting your gaze, grimacing a little. “It’s, uh…been more of a burden than anything, honestly,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I’ve heard.” Your brow furrowed a bit, and he gestured over to Bogard, still leaning against the bookshelf off to the side. “I’ve had Bogard here keeping an eye on you since we got here.”

That was incredibly surprising news to you. You glanced at Bogard yourself. You had seen him around the base a few times, but it had seemed to be only in passing. While you were still rendered speechless at the claim, Garp when on.

“I read in your file that your mother’s an…ornithologist?” he said, glancing down at the folder once more. Your brow remained furrowed as you nodded slowly, trying to wrap your head around where this could be going. “So I’d guess you have a pretty good understanding of birds. How they behave, interact with humans?”

“I—”

“With all due respect, Garp…” Both you and Garp glanced over at Bogard at his interruption. He lowered the book he had been flipping through, his frown deepening. “This is still the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“Give me a better idea, then.” After a moment, Bogard rolled his eyes, lifting the book again, still looking quite disgruntled with the situation—whatever the situation was. Garp turned his attention back to you, gesturing with a wave of his hand for you to continue.

“I-I…did learn a lot from her,” you affirmed. “She specializes in parrots and corvids. She runs a veterinary practice and rescue service for them in the East Blue.”

“Think you’d be able fool people into believing you’re the real thing?”

“Wh…wha…”

You felt like you were trapped in some strange fever dream you couldn’t wake from. Garp raised his eyebrows as he waited for your response, as you frowned, struggling to collect your thoughts into something organized enough to allow you to speak.

“I…used to prank my mom into thinking I was one of the birds in our aviary,” you admitted, almost sheepishly.

Garp let out a hearty laugh at that, his smirk spreading into a grin. “Well, if you could fool an expert, then I guess you could fool damn near anyone, huh?” You blinked rapidly as he leaned forward, crossing his arms over the desk. “So. How much do you know about a pirate by the name of Dracule Mihawk?”

Your breath caught as you froze in place, your blood running cold.

There was no Marine, likely no one in the world, that didn’t know that name. It wasn’t long after the execution of Gold Roger that he had begun making the headlines, and not for anything good. Even as a rookie he had quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and deadly, slaughtering pirates and Marines alike with seemingly no distinction between the two. For a few years now he had gained notoriety for being considered by many to be the world’s most powerful swordsman. You had heard stories of him singlehandedly destroying entire Marine warships without batting an eye.

The man was practically a living nightmare for any Marine.

“I…I’ve heard of him,” you managed to force out weakly.

Garp scoffed at that, taking a sip from his whiskey. “Who the hell hasn’t?” he said. “Especially among us. He’s been responsible for the deaths of more Marines over the past few years than any other pirate sailing the Grand Line. And completely on his own. No crew.” He shook his head, giving another scoff. “Almost no one we’ve sent after the bastard comes back alive. Except, of course, those he lets go willingly to tell us he’ll continue to slaughter anyone that challenges him. It’s a problem we can’t ignore.”

You swallowed, the rising tension in you rendering you as stiff as a statue. You could sense where this was going…and you didn’t like it one bit.

“I’m thinking a different approach could be out best bet in taking care of the problem. Something a little more subtle.” You nodded slowly to indicate you were following what he was saying—what he was suggesting. “I’m sure you don’t want to see any more Marines die at the hands to this monster any more than I do. Am I right?”

Of course he was right—you knew it as well as Garp did. Your father had been enough. Knowing that there were so many other Marines, other men and women that might leave behind broken families, losing their lives at the hands of such a ruthless killer…it sickened you to your core.

Once more, you nodded.

“Then we’re on the same page,” he said. He leaned back in his chair for a moment, taking a sip from his glass, before he set it down and stood up. “You say you think your devil fruit ability is useless. I say it could be exactly what we need.”

“Y…you want me to use my devil fruit to…” He paced slowly behind his desk, his eyes remaining on you, waiting for you to say it. “T…to take down…him?”

“Not…quite,” he said. “Like I said, different approach I want you to use your devil fruit ability against him. But not to take him down. I think you’re probably smart enough to know that you wouldn’t stand a chance in combat against him.” You swallowed, giving a short nod in agreement. “What we really need at this point is information. Any potential weakness that he might possess. Your ability isn’t useless, but it is…unassuming. You could spy on almost anyone you wanted without them knowing. And hey, let’s face it—pirates like parrots.”

You heard Bogard sigh heavily at this statement, and you couldn’t help but agree with his wordless disapproval. Pirates like parrots was a pretty broad generalization to make regarding such a dire situation.

“Look,” Garp said as your brow furrowed once more. He stepped out from behind his desk, slowly circling your chair. “Parrots are smart birds, right?” You nodded. “And they tend to bond pretty easily with humans?” Another nod, your eyes following him as he came around the other side of your chair, stopping right in front of you and leaning back against his desk. “You could get close to him without him having any idea you’re anything but a friendly, intelligent bird.”

“or he could consider her a pest and kill her,” said Bogard dryly—voicing the exact concern that was already forming in your own head.

Garp rolled his eyes. “One, there haven’t been any reports that he makes a habit of killing animals. Two, you’d be a bird. You can fly. He can’t.”

“He can split entire ships in half from at least a hundred yards,” Bogard pointed out.

“Yeah, he can,” agreed Garp—and his confirmation of this claim did absolutely nothing to help your resolve. “But why bother killing a bird that’s already flying away? He’s killing Marines to send a message that we can’t touch him. He’s killing pirates so his competition knows they can’t touch him. What’s he going to kill a goddamned parrot for?” Another sigh came from Bogard—it seemed as if the man had been through this exact same argument before. “Worst case scenario,” Garp continued, “you fly off to safety and consider it a failed mission. No black mark on your record, brownie points for even attempting it. Best case…” He crossed his arms, his mouth spreading into a grin. “You get close to a pirate no one has been able to touch for years, and return with commendation and respect from the entire Navy. Show all these recruits that have been laughing at your abilities that you’re a hell of a lot more useful than any of them.”

You bit your lip, your eyes darting off to the side. You didn’t consider yourself vain…but you had spent fifteen years considering your devil fruit completely useless. Now you had a Marine vice admiral, a man regarded by much of the world as a hero, telling you that you could potentially use your power to save the lives of countless people. It was the exact reason your father told you he had enlisted—to protect innocent lives, to make the world safer.

“I…I’m not much of a fighter,” you said finally. “If he were to figure out that I’m a human…a Marine, I…”

“You’d receive special training before the mission,” said Garp. “Enough to give you a fighting chance at escaping if you had to. Given what we know about Dracule Mihawk, it would still be dangerous, of course. But you’d still stand a better chance alone at gathering intel than an entire fleet of ships would stand facing him in combat. As it stands now,” he said, his expression shifting into a scowl, “there are several high ranking Marine officers that believe the only chance of dealing with him is offering him status as a Warlord. There’s still a problem with that, considering no one can get close enough to him to propose the offer. If nothing else, you could get close enough to do that.”

“Which would likely be the best course of action,” Bogard interjected.

And Garp ignored him.\

“I propose,” said Garp, “that you keep an eye on him for a month. Get as close as you safely can. Search for any potential weakness we could exploit, and report back. If there aren’t any,” he said, tossing a sharp glance at Bogard, before leveling his gaze with yours again, “then you go back with the paperwork in your pocket and propose the offer.”

And possibly be killed the moment you revealed who you were—what you were. That detail remained unspoken, but you had no doubt that both Garp and Bogard had already considered the possibility, if you were already thinking about it yourself.

You could be killed. In the blink of an eye. Without any warning. You could die attempting thing. It was almost insane to even consider what Garp was proposing.

But you couldn’t ignore the possibility that it could work. That it could save countless lives from ending.

Save countless families from the same grief you and your mother had endured.

You pulled in a slow, deep breath, lifting your eyes and meeting Garp’s.

And you nodded.

“I’ll do it.” His eyebrows shot up at your acceptance. “I’ll do anything I can to help.”

His surprised expression slowly split into a grin.

“You’re under no obligation to accept.” You turned your head as Bogard snapped his book shut, leveling his dark eyes with yours. Garp was already chuckling to himself, but Bogard’s expression remained grave as he went on. “You’re aware of the risk, I’m sure. The pirate in question has killed thousands of Marines to date, and I wish that was an exaggeration. This could very well be a suicide mission. If you’re doing this for recognition, I suggest you walk out of this office and forget every detail of this conversation.”

“I don’t care about recognition.” You shook your head as Bogard continued to regard you with a frown, lifting an eyebrow; as Garp tossed a glance at him that very clearly said told you so. “And I know the risk.I know I could die.” He crossed his arms, waiting for you to continue. You swallowed, going on quietly, “But…if it succeeds, then it could stop thousands of others from dying.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, straightening your back in the chair. “That’s all I care about.”

Though Bogard didn’t look entirely convinced, he wasn’t given any further opportunity to protest, as Garp let out a laugh. “You heard the girl, Bogard,” he said, reaching behind him and picking up the receiver from the den den mushi on the desk once more. “I say it’s time to get the ball rolling and finally give this madman a run for his money.”

Next Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[simpxxstan]

Hi! Been reading your fics svt as you best friend’s brother and im hooked, my favorite would be vernon’s!!! Idk if you still accept request but if you do, can i request Joshua + as your brother’s bestfriend?

P.S. i really like your writing style! 🥰

this is a part of my 550 followers event, but requests are now CLOSED.

thank you for enjoying my work <3 and thanks for the request, it was wonderful to work on it!! altho i wrote like 4 versions because i so unsatisfied but finally settled on this, really hoping that you'll like it1 and again, i'm so sorry for being late, i hope you still enjoy this :)

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who you certainly don't approve of at all

"i don't like this new friend you have." you tell your brother straight up when joshua leaves your house after dinner. it's the first time he's visited your house since your brother and he became inseparable. you've heard a lot about him and to be fair, you'd expected him to be .... not like what you realise he is.

it's nothing tangible, though. joshua is all politeness and manners, but there's an air about him which constantly reminds you that he belongs to old money, an air of superiority that seems to be ingrained in his manner of walking and talking.

and the worst bit is that everyone is so taken with him. ever since he's joined your high school, it's become amply clear that everyone loves joshua hong. some because of his wealth, others because of his looks.

"sis, he didn't even bother you. how the hell do you not like him?" your brother's low grumble annoys you, as if he has a right to ask you this although he freely drops his opinions about all your new college friends. "i don't know, really. but the vibes are... vibes are bad."

vernon rolls his eyes. "you're just mad because he's not into you, isn't it?" the words don't leave his mouth before he gets a very subtle kick in his shin that dumps him on the floor.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who rarely ever gets curious about people, but somehow he just cannot understand you

he's seen enough people already and now he can flag each person by their type. but you don't seem to fit into any of the boxes he can so easily segregate humans into. for one, you're very lowkey, just like vernon. but unlike your brother, you're not laidback nor are you cool, at all, really. you're very tight-wound, always on your guard, your wide eyes taking in everything around you.

"okay you're scaring me now," joshua spins around and meets your gaze, squinting to try and understand what thoughts lurk beneath those judgy little eyes.

"what have i done?" "you can't be judgmental during a creative process!" "i have literally not spoken a word and yet you think i'm judging you." "that's cause you are," joshua stands up and walks to you, hands on his hips, desperately trying to keep a cool face as he tries to read your mind. you cock your head to one side, meeting his stare, "oh yeah? how's that so?" "your eyes are boring holes into my back, i can feel them, you know." you stand up, your height nowhere close to joshua's but the strength of your gaze strong enough to pin his attention, "that's just the voice in your head, nuthead. you know your song is trash and you're dumping it on me now."

"hey!" vernon protests, and joshua smirks, "see i told you she was judging us! well, you can keep your judgement to yourself, miss chwe-" "yeah, i was gonna-" "and maybe leave the room while the artists are busy creating art your silly brain cannot understand."

you gasp, "you can't kick me out of my own room, you nobody!" "but he can," he says, pointing to vernon, "he's your brother." "not really, i'm gonna tell mom-" joshua loves seeing you get riled up, loves to see at least some emotion on your face. "okay, my whiney lil girl, go tell mommy," he bends down to your level and winks, his breath catching at the very audible sound of your gasp.

and it works, somehow. did he just intimidate you? or irritate you? whatever he's done, now you do leave the room, but not before flipping off him and vernon. that hurts his ego a little bit, but at least he won't have to feel your judgy eyes stare at his back while he's composing the masterpiece he and vernon are going to perform at the next party. that's a win in his books.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua whose somehow everywhere you go, almost like a shadow

of course, some of it is thanks to your brother. and the rest of it is because he has a lot of common classes with you. and although he's a new student, he's quickly become the apple of the eye of many teachers too.

"if you're really so good at creative literature, why can't you write your lyrics yourself!" you huff at him when he shoves the notebook towards you across the table once again. "that's because i've got writer's block, you idiot. why can't you just be nice to me for once, i'm just asking for some help!"

joshua's looking at you with the most helpless puppy eyes he can manage, but you're not falling for his tricks. "you're getting me distracted with this, i know what you're doing." your hand stretches across the table, pushing the notebook back to him. "distracting you? it's one damn verse-" "joshua, you're trying to distract me from working on the essay due this week, aren't you?"

joshua's eyes bulge. "what? woman, now you're overdoing this. i don't even know why you have these kinds of illusions about me. i haven't done anything to you." "but i know your type of guy," you eye him seriously, and he cocks an eyebrow. "whatever it is, you've got me wrong, y/n." for a second, you're almost convinced, but then you look at the rolex resting casually on his wrist.

"no i'm not, joshua. there are hundreds of other people, eager to write your song lyrics, but no, you come to me. why? you're an attention whore, you only pester me because i push you away. the day that i give in, you'll be gone, and -"

joshua leans in until he's almost breathing the same air as yours. "and what, y/n?" you pause for a second to frame your words correctly, but joshua takes up the chance, "then you'll realize that you've got me all wrong, because i never left you at all?"

there's some rawness in his voice, a rugged angle that's new in his usually sugary sweet voice, and it leaves you disoriented for a long minute, your thoughts scattered, your heart racing and your intuition anxious. have you really got him all wrong? but he's already gone by then, gone before you've predicted, and you have no second chance to call him back to tell him that you'd already thought of lines for the verse last night when you'd heard your brother sing the rest of the song.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's looking for you in the crowd when he performs at the party tonight, but it's a search in vain

he wants to ask vernon if he knows where you are, but he doesn't want to sound desperate. doesn't want to sound like an attention whore, doesn't want you the pleasure to think that maybe you're right. because no. you're not. he's not thirsting for your attention. he's not yearning for one soft look from your eyes because he can never understand what's going on behind them. he's not going insane every night wondering what you really think of him. he's not longing to see your fake guard fold in two so that he can tell you that he-

Hope you listen to this song 'cause I, I, I... 'Cause I'm doing right just fine. I'm doing alright, doing alright. he sings, but he really hopes no one sees it on his face that he's not, in fact, doing alright. no one has affected him to this extent, to the extent that it's plaguing his thoughts all day and all night whether they hate him or not. and the fact that even this is occurring is concerning enough for joshua to feel his stomach twist in anger and anxiety, although he can see the crowd happily sway to their song.

and then vernon sings, I can't get you out of my head, yeah, Gotta get you out of my head, yeah. How can you be so fine when ... and joshua remembers how he wrote this verse thinking about your icy eyes when you stare at him when he's standing in front of the class, giving a presentation that the teacher's asked him to deliver, staring at him like he's not good enough.

I'm doing great myself, Hope you know I am... and how joshua wrote these lives in a feverish whisper in the middle of the night when your words from last afternoon had come rushing to his mind and he'd lost all sleep. because he is doing great, isn't he? he is. he doesn't need your attention. he doesn't need your approval. he doesn't even need your affirmation.

except the voice in his head knows he does. he knows it because it's at this moment that he sees you in the crowd, standing far away from the stage so he hopes you don't know he's staring right at you, but he can feel the burn of your gaze even through the blinding lights.

and the song ends with a final strum of his guitar, vernon singing, I'm super fine, I don't need you anymore... and joshua can't help but whisper out, into his microphone

i need you

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's looking too good for even you to resist tonight, with the signature black jacket and a single vein popping out on his neck

you don't even know why you came tonight. something something about your mother asking you to check on vernon and make sure he's not getting high. something something about this being the last weekend before you get into study mode for finals. something something about you being curious about what joshua finally wrote in that verse.

and while you've seen your brother perform quite a few times, seeing joshua on stage gives you a different kind of goosebumps. the kind of goosebumps that leave you wondering what is wrong with you that you're so mean to him on an every day basis when he's so beautiful and so talented.

i'll give him a chance, you think, when you walk towards backstage. you confidently enter the tiny room that's labelled as backstage, but you find your brother making out desperately with someone in a corner so you jump out of the room immediately...

"looking for someone?" and bump into the person you've actually been looking for. when you turn around, his eyes leave you breathless, and you think that he is right. you have got him all wrong.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who can finally read your eyes because he's taken you by surprise and you can't mask your feelings so quickly

and now he's got you in his arms, and he knows that vernon is up to something inside the room, so he slowly slides you away from the room and against the wall next to it. "did you watch me?" not us. me. because joshua wants to know desperately what you think about him.

"i did." "and? what did you think?" your pretty eyes flitter about, trying to avoid his gaze avidly, but his hand slips under your chin so that you do look at him. "don't make me lose my mind, y/n. tell me, please."

so you finally look at him. really look at him. no shields, no guards, no distances. "i thought you were damn good, joshua hong. that's what i thought."

joshua's hand slips from under your chin and falls to his side. "and? what did you think of the song?" there's a hint of a smile in your eyes, and he can see them crinkle into a smile before your mouth can. "i thought it was very emotional. i didn't think you to be capable of such raw emotion. was it for someone?"

and he knows this is the moment. he knows it is because all the voices in his head are ringing like sirens with only one answer. "yes, you."

and you gasp and joshua leans in to press a kiss to your mouth. it's a soft kiss, barely a peck, a request for permission, a test to check the tides. so when you lean into him, chasing his lips, he loses all control.

"y/n chwe, you're driving me insane," he mutters, as he slowly tastes all of your lips, feeling the plush and the warmth of the one thing he's craved for months now. "pl- please, don't fight this feeling," he knows he's begging, but he doesn't care. all he wants is your softness against his hands and your warmth spreading to his body and your lips smashing again and again against his own lips.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's eyes bulge out of their sockets, his lipstick smudged against the corner of his mouth, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as you push him away

there's an emergency siren ringing in your head right now, and all you want to do is fall back into his arms, but you can't. you simply cannot. because that would mean you've fallen for his games, become prey to his tactics and he'd win again.

you have to fight the feeling because you know tomorrow morning he'll be gone, and never come back, because he's got you under his grasp now. so you do the first thing the rush of adrenaline tells you to do- run.

you run all the way home, locking yourself into your room, biting down on the rough edges of your t-shirt to stop yourself from screaming because your mind is still reeling from the taste of the forbidden fruit. you know deep down, that you have lost to joshua. you've given yourself up to him, let your guard down, and if you see him right now, you may just fold.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who doesn't give up looking for you, and finally finds you in the corner of the library the next afternoon, skipping lunch in favour of revising biology

thankfully, you're too engrossed in your notes to realise when he's taken the seat next to you, it's only after he softly calls out your name that you jerk up with surprise, "oh it's you."

and then a second later, when joshua's hand is halfway across the gap between you two, you whisper out louder, "oh it's you." he pauses. "yeah, y/n, it is me. what's wrong?"

you don't respond immediately. you stare at his outstretched hand, at the confusion etched on his features and the way your knees are touching under the desk. "you came looking for me?" joshua doesn't understand why you look so dazed, but he replies softly, leaning in, "of course. why wouldn't i?"

and then you lean into him and kiss him. wow that was simple, joshua's mind still confused at what just happened, but he doesn't miss the opportunity. his hand finds your arm, and he pulls you closer to kiss you, to taste you in every way he couldn't last evening. "i want you, y/n. why do you run away from me?"

and joshua doesn't know why, but you laugh. it's the sound of rain falling on leaves, the sound of tinkling beads, the sound of piano keys played on a midsummer night. "i promise i won't anymore, joshua. because i admit, i want you too." and you kiss him again, and somehow, his curiosity becomes the last thing on his mind. not when you're busy rearranging his brain chemicals to make sure he's addicted to your scent, your taste and your touch and he can never live without you now.

[muffinrecord]

Current Plans + Musings

I don't plan on playing Exedra to the degree I did for Magia Record, or playing it at all. Because of that, I won't be taking an active role in the community and archiving anything for it. Of course, if Exedra has like amazing gameplay and stories then this is all subject to change, but for now I think I'm done with phone games.

The two youtube channels will stay up and I'll check em periodically to make sure there aren't copyright strikes against the content. I've saved all my raw files, especially for the battle animations, so I can remake them in the future if the music ever becomes a problem for some reason.

Google Drive will stay up until Google rots away. I haven't recorded footage in a long time (as in stories, I do for the character doppels and such), but I'll upload things if they're sent to me.

Magia Union Translations still plans on translating things and making videos, especially leading up to the end, but also for after the game is over for whatever wasn't made in time. I'm not sure what form this will take in the future-- if it'll be manual captions added to the videos or not, but I know it WILL happen.

As for this blog, I'm not going to delete it or anything. However I'm going to be taking a step back. I'd like to say that I'll do liveblogs but I mean... *gestures at blog* I've been saying that for years and the only one I really did successfully was the Oriko one lmao. Ahhh oh well.

I'll have more words later, but it was really fun to be part of a fandom experience like this. I'm excited to work on my own original story projects though and quiet down a bit.

...

When I started this blog, I never expected it to have people actually read it. Or look at it. I just wanted a place to gush about how much fun I was having. I didn't even want to tag the posts with "Magia Record" at first because I was terrified people would be mean at me, haha.

But I'm glad I did. I made so many good friends through this game. I'm glad it existed. And it made me happy to have a place where people cared about what I had to say. Some folks actually got their news from here, can you imagine that? They had notifications turned on for this blog. My god.

Anyways, I'm going to be here for the next two months, and tomorrow I'll start reblogging fan projects and initiatives, plus general news. Maybe this blog will turn into a dumping site for art and fanfic reblogs, who knows. I might watch the remaining stuff and add various thoughts here and there.

Otherwise, you can find me on my main blog @malignmuffin, which only reblogs stuff (I don't talk much if at all there). I have another tumblr blog for my comic, but I think I'll reshare the name once I actually have content you can look at on it. It's pretty bare bones for the moment.

Actually it'll be funny if the end of this game is what makes me finally work on it again. I was in the process of working on it when NA came out, and it totally derailed me. Stopped writing, drawing, just focused on this silly little phone game. Now it's like those five years have gone by and I'm going back to where I started, except I think my lil comic is going to be a bit better than it was before. If I actually make it, that is.

If I ever do actually make my comic and start posting it, I'll be sure to update y'all here. hah

Anyways, thanks for being on this wild ride with me. The memories have been great, and I'm glad I had this experience, even if it had to end.

[suzukiblu]

I love your Kara. I’m so used to her being a one note racist when it comes to Kon-angst. Don’t get me wrong. That’s entertaining for easy angst. But it’s never criticized by anybody. How is she still on the league?

It’s nice to see her be a supportive figure who is worried for him.

Ty! ❤️ I will say I haven't read too much of Kara in the comics (Mae and Linda were my OG Supergirl back in the day and I just vastly preferred them when I was doing most of my reading), so I mostly got her vibe and backstory through the cartoons and fandom osmosis and then extrapolated a few things I hadn't seen explored about her much IN fandom for the takes on her I've written. But like, I've only really seen her be, like, REALLY anti-clone in the New 52, so I don't like to characterize her too strongly by any anti-clone sentiments even if I do sometimes include a bit of them underscoring what she's thinking/doing. Like, more like the kind of low-level ingrained bias you get from growing up in a culture with some shitty beliefs that you haven't ever had a real reason to examine than anything genuinely hateful or anything you actually REALLY believe yourself, if that makes sense.

Also lbr, it's just more interesting to me to make Kara-related issues be things like culture clash and apocalyptic levels of grief and rage that most people around her don't understand and kinda just ignore and, like, an overall frustration with other people not having the cultural context to REALLY understand what she's saying/thinking/doing, a lot of the time. Like, this is a character with a dead planet and a dead SPECIES who if things had gone to plan probably would've been "Superwoman" LONG before Clark grew up enough to even develop powers at all, much less be SuperMAN, and who SHOULD be older and more mature/experienced than all of these superpowered adults that she got dumped in the middle of who historically do NOT do all that well with surprise teenagers while also having the possibility of growing up STRONGER than Clark but simultaneously getting shit on by both the narrative and said superpowered adults, and also she's just never seemed as integrated into the hero community as, like, Dick or Babs or Kon or Tim or whoever else. Like she's just that LITTLE bit disconnected from them all, it tends to feel like to me. So there's a lot to mine there, character-wise! Like way more than just one-note clone-racism!

Anyway tl;dr: I got a lil' carried away there but I love the whole entire concept of Kara and I always wanna write her being MUCH more complicated than I usually see her getting handled. I wanna do our girl some justice!!

[a-lonely-dunedain]

every magic school has the Cringefail Newbie and the Self-Proclaimed Prodigy that adopted him <3

so I finally managed a drawing of Elbryn I'm actually happy with! idk if I'll ever write a proper fic involving him but I do have many Thoughts™ about the lil guy so I'll just dump them here under the cut

so after his rather embarrassing magical mishap in Helgen (which he's pretty sure didn't summon the dragon? but he isn't ruling it out as a possibility) he basically swears off using spells entirely and opts for a war axe

somehow manages to not die despite his lack of skill, figures out he's the Dragonborn yadda-yadda, we've all played the quests.

actually counts the Seven-Thousand-Steps to High-Hrothgar like the nerd he is. It was significantly more than seven thousand and his legs hurt so badly.

after making it to High-Hrothgar the Greybeards basically told Elbryn that he would need to become stronger before he could battle dragons as equals and master his Thu'um. Unfortunately they didn't provide much guidance on exactly how he should go about that, only telling him "that path would be made clear" and leaving the rest up to him.

Decides to go back to Whiterun and join the Companions. He's very intimidated by them, but they're probably the best people he could hope to learn from if he wants to master his skills with a blade.

Notably he goes to great lengths to hide his status as the Dragonborn from basically everyone. He feels as though the people of Skyrim are disheartened enough with the return of the Dragons, and if they knew this "legendary dragon-slayer" was really just some scrawny Breton ex-mage it would only dishearten them further, so he feels like it's better to let everyone assume the Dragonborn is some strong and fearsome Nord warrior or something of that nature. At least until he feels as though he can live up to the title.

He also hides his past as a mage from them because he gets the sense that the Companions would like, instantly stop respecting him if they knew. He does feel very bad about keeping so many secrets from them though, seeing as they all talk a big game about how they "don't deal in secrets like thieves and mages do"

Anyway things with the Companions go surprisingly well! His fighting skills improve significantly and he actually starts to form an unlikely friendship with Farkas. a bit of an "opposites attract" type thing. Farkas sees that Elbryn has a lot of potential but lacks confidence, so he sorta decided to take him under his wing. (Vilkas is a bit less fond of Elbryn though. not that he really dislikes him or anything, but he catches on that he's hiding something and doesn't quite trust it)

anyway if you know how the Companions questline goes you know that they take you into the Underforge with the intention of turning you into a werewolf alarmingly fast. Elbryn was still willing to work with them upon learning they were werewolves, but becoming one himself? no no no no nope. He basically tells them "yeah uhh I'll need to think about it", goes to his room, packs his stuff and sneaks off that very same night without saying a word to anyone. In hindsight he feels bad about that. Kinda wishes he had left Farkas a note or something, but he was scared and in a hurry. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now...

now I know they weren't going to force him to become a werewolf or anything, but Elbryn didn't know that. I mean they said they weren't going to force him but they also said the Companions don't deal in secrets, yet here they are doing this under Kodlak's nose in the dead of night! he has no idea what to think or expect or who he could even talk to and these guys have teeth. so he just runs.

north specifically. Not for any particular reason, he just had to pick a direction and it happened to be north. Wanders around for a bit, unsure of were to go now that his only source of martial training fell through.

Eventually comes across Frostflow Lighthouse (REAL downer of a dungeon that one) Now the thing about Frostflow is that near the end you drop down a cliff, and the only way back out is through the final boss. the giant Chaurus Reaper. So he's cornered down there, alone, with a foe he is woefully unprepared to fight. (In game it kept two-shotting me lmao, but I decided to make a story thing out of it!)

So in desperation he decides to use his magic. Not a lot mind you, maybe just to heal himself or create a flash to stun it so he could get away, but whatever it was he intended to do with it hardly matters, because that's not what ended up happening.

See, as it turns out, when you're naturally gifted with high amounts of magic, trying to suppress it for long periods of time like what Elbryn did basically turns you into a magic bomb. So the moment he tried to tap into his magika reserves, it was like a dam burst open. Everything in the cavern was engulfed in a storm of pure untamed magical energy, swirling and burning and tearing until nothing was left of the Chaurus but some strips of charred flesh and chitin

Elbryn immediately passes out, wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later dazed and utterly horrified at the carnage he left behind. I mean sure, it worked out in his favor this time, he was surrounded by foes and going scorched earth was really the only option, but if someone else had been with him? if something like that were to happen when he was with a friend or trying to protect or rescue someone... He looks back at the charred bits of Chaurus strewn about.

yeah, just suppressing his magic ain't gonna cut it, he needs to learn how to control it or else. There's a college in Winterhold right? that's where he has to go then. So he sets out east over the ice fields and hopes he can make it there before getting hopelessly lost and dying.

(ok I had a lot more to say but this was getting LONG I'll have to make another post later lol. sorry, Elbryn decided he wanted to have a story so I guess there's a story now)

[altraviolet]

This isn’t really a question but what are your opinions on Pharma?? Do you ever think ur gonna write for him 👀

hi! Pharma... hmm

*looks in reference folder to see if anything's there*

ah... I don't know where I got this:

haha. ok. THOUGHTS ON PHARMA, HMM...

he had such a weird arc in MTMTE, and I never warmed up to him, so I don't have that many thoughts to be honest. on the surface, my immediate thoughts are "another villain, not sure why he went bonkers and did what he did. meh." beneath that is a small conglomeration of -what I think is- thoughts from other people I've read over the years, regarding his point of view. imagine being a dr on this wasteland planet, forced to harvest parts of your patients for the freaking DJD. there's a little more sympathy there. but not much, to be honest.

there seems to be a small but strong and faithful Pharma/Tarn following

those are just about all the thoughts I've given him up until this very moment

thinking very slightly beyond that, yes, I can see why people like him. there's the past with Ratchet (however deep you personally see their relationship), there is the torturous "business" relationship with Tarn, there's, assumedly, the breaking of a fine mind into something that goes against what it was trained for- going from helping to harming patients. there's possibly a genius there that developed the rust plague thing (I say possibly because I don't recall if he had to do any research/development for that, but if he did, then, eh, he's got that going for him).

then there's all that Other Stuff, where he got shlurped into ?¿?¿ the omega guardian dimension (???) and then was taken over by one of the gods (??? but may have been the omega guardian... the eyeball was) JEEZ I don't remember, ugh, lol, I should go read the wiki real quick but I'm lazy rn

tbh whenever I don't have any strong feelings about a character - be it affection or hate-y - I'm quite willing to listen to folks talk about why they like the character! it very much seems like you do, anon, so if you'd like to send another ask with a lil love dump for Pharma, I'll read it =)

no other thoughts, really. he's not very interesting or compelling to me, but I don't hate him or anything. he just exists in the background. I probably wouldn't write a fic centered on him unless it was a gift for secret solenoid, or something similar.

[r-i-03-17]

Hey everybody, I'm back. Sorry for not being on for a bit, but I wasn't really sure what to write, since my writing isn't THAT good, and I can look back at my other Yaz and Sammy headcanons and cringe, it's taken me a lil bit to figure out exactly what to write. But either way, I hope you guys enjoyed my other headcanons, and I hope you enjoy this one. Peace out, see y'all later 🙂. (WARNING: If you're not aware some of my headcanons/stories have more "mature" elements, nothing blatantly NSFW, but definitely implied things, so if that's something your fine with, then be free to enjoy, I'll always give a warning when my posts have "implied" elements, like this one does.)

It was their daughter's 4th birthday, and Yaz and Sammy had spent the entire morning preparing. They've had other parties sure, but this one was special, they had a surprise for their daughter that was sure to make this one of her best birthdays yet.

Sammy was making the food, humming to herself while sunlight beamed through the window above the oven. She took a deep inhale and exhaled out happily. She was happy with herself, she had a family, her daughter, her wife, her friends, and her dog. After the car accident she had right before her child was born messed up her hip pretty bad, so she couldn't move as fast as she used to, but that was ok . Yaz's job helped financially cover what the farm couldn't, she worked long hours and was always so helpful. When Sammy had to do physical therapy, when she had surgery, Yaz was always right there, helping her, helping get to the shower when she had a hard time walking, giving her cuddles when she was in pain, and always making her food when she felt too sick to make any herself, and Sammy appreciated it, probably more than she could ever express.

Speaking of, Yazmina was outside cutting up firewood for a fire they were going to have when it got dark, she was about twenty feet away, axe in hand, and a decent pile of wood already stacked. She was wearing a white tank top, exposing her six pack, that was gleaming with sweat from the hot sun. Yaz's jet black hair was hanging down over her shoulders, while she dumped a bottle of water over her head and on her tan arms to cool off. She didn't notice Sammy staring out the window, watching her like a teenager staring at her crush, thinking to herself how lucky she was, that not only did she have an amazing life with an amazing wife, but also that wife happened to be super hot, literally and figuratively, she made a mental note to herself to bring her out a a new bottle of water once she put her pie in the oven that she was making. Sammy felt a hand grab her shoulder and it made her jump, when she flipped around, Brooklyn was standing there, a birthday card in her hands.

S: Jesus Brook, don't sneak up on someone like that, you just about gave me a heart attack.

B: Sorry Sammy, didn't mean to interrupt you checking out your wife 😏.

S: 😳. I wasn't.....I didn't....I was just....

B: 😏😏.

S: 😑.

Brooklyn laughed, she loved teasing Sammy about that kinda stuff, even after all these years, she still gets super flustered, it didn't bother Yaz at all when she teased her, so Brooks main target was usually Sammy.

Brooklyn opened the window, and yelled out to Yaz.

B: Hey Yazmina, you didn't notice your wife checking you out? She's been staring at you for the past 10 minutes.

Y: 😏. Good, means I must be doing something right 😉.

Sammy blushed while Yaz and Brooklyn started laughing, to be completely honest Sammy never minded the teasing or anything like that, if anything she loved it. In some weird way it made her feel all bubbly and happy inside, like she felt when the first started dating. Whenever Yaz grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up to kiss her, or when they would just lay on a couch late at night watching a movie, or when they would sit on the front porch swing with Koda (Sammy's Rottweiler) after they put their daughter to bed, talking about their days, and when they their friends we're going to visit again.

Suddenly Darius, Kenji, and Ben pulled up the driveway with a big trailer towing behind them. Sammy called their daughter downstairs and revealed the surprise to her, her very own Shetland Pony, named Tucker. Yaz and Sammy's daughter loved him, hugged her parents, and led her new horse to the barn. As the two of them looked on, Sammy's head resting on Yaz's shoulder, they both thought to themselves " I'm so lucky".

Ok guys I hope you enjoyed this one, idk when I'll make another, but I probably will eventually.

[recurring-polynya]

Hi! I know you don't write her very often, but I love your Unohana. I don't know if this is an extra scene request, exactly, but re: your Renji joins squad 4 au, you've mentioned that he's probably seen Unohana's bankai. How would that even go down, and how unhinged would Unohana get? In this au, does Renji ever learn more about Unohana or does she just skirt around the topic forever? (If this is a no go then no need to publish, or, heck, even if it's fine I'm a nervous wreck just sending this)

I really did try to stick to the prompt this time, but it ended up being more about what Unohana knows about Renji, instead of the other way around. Thanks, queen who gives us nothing!! Anyway, here you go, just a lil story about a very normal relationship between a guy and his very hinged captain.

| read on ao3 |

(This takes place between Part 1 and Part 2) TW: Blood. Lots.

💀 ⚔️ 🩸

Unohana Retsu looked on, gently, but attentively, as her Fifth Seat poured her a cup of tea.

He had hands that were meant to grip a sword. Long fingered, knobbly knuckled, criss-crossed with scars, not a few of which she had given him herself. Nevertheless, his pour was steady, graceful, even.

"I know that you and Third Seat Kira are friends," she said, "so I suspect you've already heard the news."

Fifth Seat Abarai waited until he had placed the teapot back on the tray before responding.

"About his offer from the Third?"

Retsu nodded. "He told me this morning that he had accepted it."

Abarai nodded back, as if he was confirming the information to himself. "He told me he was gonna. I wouldn't--" He stopped himself and cleared his throat before continuing. "It's not a position I think I would like, but he seems excited about it."

"It's been wonderful having him here," Retsu observed, "but I've known for a long time that the Fourth wasn't a home for him."

Abarai's brows furrowed momentarily. Retsu wondered if he objected to this characterization of Kira, or if perhaps he was pondering a different unstated implication. "I guess you don't want me to try to talk him out of it, then." Or maybe he was just trying to figure out what any of this had to do with him.

Retsu took a sip of her tea. It was too hot, slightly oversteeped and worst of all, had a strange phantom sweetness to it. How?? They were her own tea leaves. She had watched him brew it. How did he do it? She placed her teacup back down on the table again. "I want you to take his seat."

Abarai blinked at her for a moment, owlish behind his thick-rimmed glasses. "Can't, ma'am. I haven't passed my Level 12 Kaidou Certification. Third Seat has to be able to run the Relief Station if you and Lieutenant Kotetsu get called away. And I don't think you should make an exception for me. Not for this."

The Fourth Division had a rigid set of exams and certifications that qualified its members for various positions. Retsu was not in the habit of granting exemptions generally, but Abarai wasn't the sort of person that rules were made for.

He was hardly her first involuntary transfer. Retsu was all-too aware of her squad's reputation as a dumping ground for underperforming shinigami. In his first three months at the Fourth, Abarai had cast zero kaidou, avoided three-quarters of his medical shifts, and submitted sixty-two transfer requests (Retsu still sometimes wondered about four that had come in on the same day. She never asked him about it. It must have been a Hell of a Tuesday.)

Exactly one month after she made him a deal--if he actually started trying, she would arrange for Isane to give him swordfighting lessons, and promised to transfer him if he was still unhappy at the end of a year--Twelfth Seat Aoga came to her and in a hushed voice told he that he thought Abarai might be a prodigy.

"Prodigy" wasn't exactly the right word for it. Abarai was just good with bones. Aside from herself, Retsu had four medics who could perform a full skeletal reconstruction, all senior officers, brilliant surgeons with distinguished tenures. Now, she had a fifth who couldn't otherwise heal a skinned knee. Everything he did was like that, though, backwards and out of sorts. He was excellent at chest compressions and setting bones and anything that required physical strength, but he struggled with the basic healing spells most people learned at the Academy. Long before he could do an anesthetic or antiseptic kaidou, the trauma surgeons were squabbling over him, simply because he was an incredible battery. When he couldn't get the hang of the common cold relief kaidou, he dug up one of Kirinji's horrible old techniques from somewhere in the depths of the library. It had been developed for highly infectious diseases that shinigami sometimes brought back from the deep Rukon and involved using your own immune system to turbo-charge the patient's. (Retsu had forbidden its use because there was a high probability of fatal backslash on the healer. Abarai usually just ran a high fever for a day or two afterward.)

That was all years ago, though. Abarai had grown into a perfectly competent healer. He wasn't the fastest or the most delicate, and his flesh healing still had a tendency to leave scars, but if there was one thing he excelled at, it was keeping people alive. No one could figure out exactly how he did it, or replicate his technique, but he was exceptionally good at pulling people back from the brink.

The real reason, though, she'd started giving him the exceptions that let him take on shift supervisor roles before he had the healing qualifications, was that Abarai was a natural leader in exactly the way that many of her subordinates were not. He had steel nerves. He was decisive in a crisis. He had a loud voice and people listened to him.

But shift supervisor wasn't the same as Third Seat.

"I agree," she said. "But I think you can get that certification. You've come a long way since we made our deal, Fifth Seat Abarai."

Abarai's cheeks colored, and he took a quick slug of his tea to cover his embarrassment. "I think I've pretty well held up my end of that bargain," he managed with a sheepish grin. "Level 12 Kaidou certification seems a little beyond what I agreed to."

"You have already gone quite far past what you agreed to," Retsu acknowledged. "But why stop now? You're hoping to make vice-captain yourself someday, aren't you?" She didn't point out that he was perfectly capable of passing the vice-captain's exam any time he chose to take it. He must be aware of this; he'd spent the better part of a year helping Kira through his own preparations.

Retsu chanced another sip of the tea while she waited for him to answer. It had not improved.

Abarai sucked his teeth for a long moment, then sighed in defeat. "There's a self-healing portion on the Level 12. I can't do it. I've tried and tried, but I got nothing. Can't heal a single scratch if it's on my body. Ask Kira, he's given up on me."

Retsu stared at him in amazement. "That can't be true. Everyone knows that your healing system--"

Abarai shook his head and shrugged expansively. "It's all involuntary. I'm a fast healer, but I got nothing to do with it. No kaidou involved."

Impossible. Abarai wasn't just a fast healer. His recovery ability, both in speed and magnitude, was a topic of hot speculation among her top officers. The very specific circumstances where his kaidou was above average were generally attributed to some form of leveraging off his own natural talents. She herself, who was quite familiar with his zanpakutou, had long assumed that it had a secondary healing aspect. Nevertheless, she had also assumed--

"Last week," she said, more curtly than she had intended, "when the Eleventh's Third Seat put his spear through your shoulder--"

"I mean, I cleaned it and bandaged it," Abarai admitted it. "Then I just slept it off."

And had been on shift eight hours later. Retsu closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you do after our spars, Fifth Seat? That thigh wound I gave you last time. The one you said 'only looked bad.'"

"Oh, yeah. That was a poor judgment on my part. Kira and I were sposed to go out later, though, so he. Uh. Found me passed out from blood loss in the hallway and gave me a patch-up. I woulda woken up eventually, if he hadn't! My body is very good at making blood!"

Retsu gathered her inner serenity. Abarai was not, by far, the most worrisome of her officers, but she had to worry about him in very different ways than her other officers. "Don't you find it strange," she said slowly, "that you have so much natural ability at healing, and yet you're unable to take control of the process yourself? That's all it is--a matter of mind over reishi."

Abarai's eyes clouded, and he looked away. "I know. It should be. But it's certainly not the first time something about my healing doesn't make any damn sense."

"That's not true," Retsu reminded him. "Everything about your healing makes sense. For you." She knew he didn't like it when she brought these things up. He was more willing to talk to Isane about feelings-related things, and Retsu was usually content to leave it between the two of them. But there were times where more directness was necessary. "It's a mental block, most likely."

"It's quite common to not be able to heal yourself, actually," Abarai prattled back emptily, a notch too loud, as though he hadn't heard her at all. "Most people got something or other they just can't do, right? That's why that 12th level certification is so rare! But you know who does have one?"

Retsu narrowed her eyes at him. Of course she knew.

"I'm sure Fourth Seat Iemura's been looking forward to Kira leaving for a long time," Abarai went on. "He'd be pretty mad at me for leap-frogging him, I think." As if Abarai didn't drive Fourth Seat Iemura to the edge of apoplexy on a daily basis, primarily by the mere crime of existing. "Besides," he said, sincerity returning to his voice, along with a slight edge of desperation, "now's not a good time for me to be thinking about exams. I'm so close to bankai, I can almost touch it. I know it."

Retsu knew it, as well. And she knew that his goals were not her goals. His earlier point had been well made--he had been more than fair to her.

"I understand," she said. "I have been thinking about that, as well, you know. There's a special training I have been considering, but I wasn't sure you were ready to get serious about it."

Abarai's eyes widened. "Really? I mean--I am! I really am! I'm ready!"

Retsu smiled sweetly at him. "In that case…when is your next day off?"

💀 ⚔️ 🩸

Abarai was quiet from the time they left the eastern gate of the Seireitei shortly after dawn on Saturday morning. Isane and Kira both had a habit of getting very chatty about nature whenever Retsu took them out of the city to train. It wasn't just the lack of conversation, though. Straining her ears, Retsu could still barely hear Abarai's footfalls. Despite his size, the leaves and branches rustled no more at his passing than at her own.

It was easy to think of him as a city boy. After decades in the Seireitei, Abarai's accent had been worn down to an occasional colorful expression, although it occasionally flared back to life when he was putting an unruly patient from the Eleventh in their place. He knew every street of the Seireitei, though, could name every player on the city football team. He was generally a cheerful and boisterous presence around the Coordinated Relief Station. You tended to hear him before you saw him.

Retsu knew as well as anyone, though, that you could change yourself on the outside, but you never really lost the old versions of yourself. You just covered them over, like an oyster creating a pearl. And she knew well what lay at the center of Abarai's soul. She had been to the deepest depths of the Rukon. Places where reality became thin, where time looped back on itself. Most Souls didn't survive long there, and those that did were…something else.

Abarai had grown up at the frayed edge of Soul Society. Still within the borders. Still in a place that resembled civilization, she reminded herself. He was the soul of a human child who had died and taught himself survive against all odds, a soul who had learned to move silently through the woods and chose to fight with tooth and claw for every drop of blood in his body. He wasn't a monster-boy created out of the bloody, ragged edges of Soul Society itself, the love of fighting made into the shape of a person. He just reminded her of one sometimes.

The sun was high in the sky when Retsu found a place that she felt would do. A wide, grassy clearing was ringed by a stand of stately pines. They were tall, but the trees were still young by the standards of Soul Society. Younger than her. She and Abarai set their packs off to one side, took a drink of water, did some stretches.

"You said we were doing something special?" Abarai asked as they lay on their backs, each hugging one knee to their chest.

"Hmm," said Retsu, switching legs. "Maybe that was a lie."

He turned his head to look at her.

"An exaggeration," she clarified. "It's not that special. We're just going to fight."

He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly not buying this.

"You've already done most of the preparatory work," she explained. "You're strong enough. You've fully mastered your shikai. You can externalize your zanpakutou spirit." She stretched both legs out in front of her and sat up. "All that is left is to convince them that you need it. You need a challenge. A rock to crash up against, something that will break you to pieces without their intervention."

Abarai sat up and frowned. "I thought that was what fighting Captain Kuchiki was for."

"That's theoretical," Retsu replied. "You need something more imminent. You could go fight him, I suppose. I am not sure Zabimaru would be sympathetic to your cause."

Abarai stuck out his lower lip. "I'm pretty sure they wouldn't."

"It's no matter," Retsu said, rising to her feet. "That's never been your plan anyway, remember?"

Abarai nodded. "Right. You're right. Gettin' ahead of myself, as usual. Captain Kuchiki's had his bankai for ages. I need to master mine before I can face him. Which means I gotta get it, first."

What was it like, Retsu wondered, to be so impossibly young? To have so much laid out before you, to want so badly. She could hardly remember it.

"Just so," she said, striding to the center of the clearing. "And to do that, you will fight me."

Abarai rolled to his feet in a smooth motion. "I've fought you before," he grinned.

"I haven't been serious before," she replied, drawing her zanpakutou and examining it in the sunlight. There was an eagerness in her sword today, one she hadn't felt in a long time. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," said Abarai, "whenever you are. Look, there's really nothing special about this? Just a regular ol' fight? There's nothing you want me to focus on or try to--"

"Try," Retsu replied, " not to die. Bankai." The blade of her zanpakutou began to loosen and sag, dripping between her fingers to form a thick pool of blood-like ooze around her feet. "Minazuki."

If this were Kira, or perhaps even Isane, she would have given them a moment, let the impact sink in. But this was Abarai, who had grown up on the edges of the world, breathing violence into his lungs like spores, letting it spread through his blood and marrow and bloom from his skin. He blocked most the first volley of Minazuki's blood whips before his sword was even fully from its sheath. She still got in a good lash across one cheek, another against his calf. He had Zabimaru unsealed in time for the second round, and managed to block it completely. Minazuki was fast, though, too fast for Renji's shikai. The third attack hit before Zabimaru could reorient, severing the elbow tendon. Next, both knees. His legs hadn't finished buckling beneath him when she laid a deep gash across his gut, and one on the chest to match.

The wounds were carefully chosen. They both knew it. Immobilized and laid open, a sure death by exsanguination. Well. A probable death. Retsu stepped closer and placed the tip of her sword at his throat. His superhuman will to survive might be able to regenerate blood fast enough to keep pace with the torso wounds, but she didn't think that even he could outlive a slashed throat. Minazuki's ooze slithered around them, fencing in the growing lake of blood that poured from his body, soaking into her socks and sandals. "If you yield," she said, "I will heal you."

Stubborn as ever, Abarai tried to prop himself up on his good arm, which caused a fresh gush of dark liquid to fall out of him. Retsu waited. The arm failed him. He fell back down in his puddle again, then rolled onto his back. "After you heal me," he groaned, "can we go again?"

"No," replied Retsu. "That will be it for today."

Abarai was silent for a long time.

"Renji," she said. "You need to make a call. The patient is dying."

An angry growl rattled through his chest. "Save 'im," he finally sighed. "I yield. Whatever."

Retsu flicked a hand, and ropy tentacles of Minazuki clambered up onto him, sealing over his wounds with loud, wet slaps.

Abarai squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment and made a distressed noise in his throat. After the initial discomfort passed, one eye opened and swiveled to regard her. "This is just Minazuki's usual goop, ain't it?" he wheezed. "Does it change? Between fighting and healing? Chemistry-like?"

"Is now really the time to be thinking about this?" Retsu asked. She didn't usually use Minazuki's bankai form to heal people, and honestly had never thought about it much. Also, unlike Abarai, who practically had a summer home there, she, herself had never spent much time in Shikai-Minazuki's stomach.

"If I only get to fight you for twenty seconds at a time, I gotta learn as much as I can from it," Abarai said, closing his eyes again. Retsu's heart thumped in her chest. He wasn't anything like any of her other children, not even the lost one she kept trying to make him into, and for a brief moment, she loved him more than she could stand.

"When can we do this again?" he finally asked.

"Next week, if you like. If you feel ready to go again."

He let out an irritated whine, or possibly a whimper of pain. "Took…two hours to walk out here," he said, sounding more than a little petulant. "This is really how it's gonna be?"

"Yes," she said. "I don't like to release my bankai where people can feel it. This is how it's going to be."

He was quiet, and they both listened to Minazuki glorp and blorble away at his injuries for a few minutes.

"I need to fight your bankai to get bankai, but I'm gonna need a bankai if I'm gonna last long enough to figure out what kinda bankai I need to fight yours," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

"Well," she said, "you only have to yield if you want me to heal you. If you want to heal yourself, I'll give you as many time-outs as you want."

Abarai's eyes shot open and his head rolled to the side, so he could regard her fully. "Time-outs?"

She nodded sweetly. "Mm-hmm."

"If I…I if heal. Myself." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes again, and rolled his head back to face the sky. "Fuck." Another deep breath. "Sorry for the language, ma'am."

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "And I know you can do it. I believe in you."

[willowser]

i received this lovely lovely lil thought from a lovely lovely anon in response to this question, and i think we ALL should get to enjoy it 🥹🩷

(Tw:Abuse / Manipulation (kind of; it's not overly gratuitous, but better safe than sorry))

Will! !! So I was thinking about your "would Bakugou chase after you, even after you're engaged" post (loved it! spinning it around in my head), and while I do think he'd probably let you go if you were truely happy with this other person, y'know what might change that? If this other person wasn't making you happy. (I’M SO SORRY FOR THE INCOMING WALL OF TEXT – please just delete if I’m being annoying!!) To explain; I think in this scenario, maybe you're still getting over a long-time unrequited crush (👀), and you're looking for something with a normal, sweet guy to help get over it. He's not the type you would usually go for, but he's nice enough (idk, maybe he has blonde hair, or red eyes, and maybe that makes it easier). And while you initially thought this would just be a short fling, it just kind of... gets away from you? A few dates turn into a few more, and then lots more and before you know it things are getting Serious. He's talking about moving in together, and you're taken aback by it (weren't you just starting to go out together? Isn't this too soon?). But it's not like you have anything real to complain about! He's not horrible to you or anything! He treats you well enough! It's just that you don't seem to feel anything... deep? for him. You don't daydream about a future together, you don't go out and wish he was there with you; Honestly, if he's not there with you, you don't think much about him at all (not the way you used to with him 👀). And hey, maybe sometimes (frequently) you end up doing things you didn't want to do, maybe he knows what to say to get you to acquiesce to his wants and needs, without coming across as manipulative. Or maybe you're just nervous! He isn't "rushing you long term commitments, which would dissuade you from leaving", the two of you are just caught up in a Whirlwind Romance! /Sarcastic. Being honest, that kind of thing grinds a person down after a while; you bend much more easily to his whims. He is, after all, so Normal and so Sweet - and how often do guys like that turn up? You'd be a fool to dump him now, now he knows you so well, and really. What are you expecting? Some Prince Charming(👀) to come and sweep you off your feet? Get real. So you get the flat together, and later on (though sooner than you'd like), you accept his proposal.

1 / 7 (I'm so sorry)

2/7 To my mind, this is the kind of diverging path for Bakugou. I think, if this was a genuine whirlwind romance, and it was recognised by the people around you, he'd probably back off. For all his brashness, he wouldn't want to hurt you by ruining your wedding day to the person you actually love. TBH I can kind of see him pining for you for the rest of his life, and hoping you become a widow/er so he get another shot to confess his feelings lmao. In that situation he could write off his own negative feelings towards your fiance as his own jealousy, right? If the fiance were actually bad for you, at least one other person from your respective friend group would notice. But!! I think that would change if his opinions were backed up by his friends (because it would demonstrate that it isn’t just his jealousy tarnishing his opinion of your boyfriend) Let's imagine that maybe he isn't the only one to think something Weird is going on. Maybe he's hanging out with Denki and Sero, because he's so obviously miserable about not confessing in time, and they're trying to cheer him up (it's been a month and he's mouldering. He is suffering). In walk Eijiro and Mina, who - while they were out getting snacks that Bakugou would never even consider eating if he wasn't in the depths of despair - just so happened to run into you and your new... boyfriend? Kind of? You seemed kind of reluctant to say the two of you were dating, but he seemed nice. Eijiro thinks he's kind of bland, and Mina knows you can do better (which she says both for Bakugou's ego, and because it's true), but nice enough. And you know, maybe, for the first time in a month, Bakugou stops sitting so rigidly. He doesn't slouch per se, no. He relaxes in the same way that tiger might relax before pouncing, in the way that a hunter might breathe out before pulling the trigger. A month of dating, and you still won't call the guy your boyfriend? When you'd introduced them to each-other (after your third date), Bakugou assumed it was his jealousy that made him hate the guy. Kind of boring, kind of pushy (a/n: no, he wouldn't clock the fact that he looks like off-brand Bakugou). He didn't think it would last too long, but it still felt bitter that that was the guy who beat him to the punch.

But seriously; a month of dating, and you still won't call the guy your boyfriend? That's... interesting >:)

3/7 So months roll by, and Bakugou keeps his eye on you. He flipflops between anguishing over his jealousy, and making sure that your “boyfriend” is treating you right. Of course, it’s made harder by the fact that he doesn’t see you that much any more. Your other friends notice it too; You’re not being kept inside your (shared) flat, but you always seem busy, and a bit tired. Ochako and Iida can usually grab you for lunch, Momo swings by your flat pretty often, but your social calendar seems so full now. Full of dates and outings with your new boyfriend. Apparently, you barely have a minute for someone you’ve been friends with since childhood.

It pisses Bakugou off to no end, but he’s keeping his distance (for now). Because the thing is, Bakugou – above anything else – respects you. If you want to waste your time on some loser, he’s not going to presume that he knows better for you! Bakugou’s many things but he’s not “fuckin’ presumptuous”. Besides, if you really were in dire straights, or needed help, you’d reach out. It’s not like you don’t still send him little messages every other day; memes you think he’ll like, little scenic photographs of your dates (conspicuously, your boyfriend is missing from every single one👀). He’s Fine. He can Be Patient. (Reader, he’s been seething for months).

4/7 HOWEVER. Flashing forward to The Proposal. I think it shakes him; firstly because the person he loves is getting married to another man, and he somehow thought you’d have ended it by now. But secondly because everyone else seems to agree that it’s weird! It’s way too soon for marriage to a guy that you don’t even seem to like all that much, and while everyone gently float their concerns to you that maybe it’s just a teeny tiny smidge too soon to get married (which you rebuff half-heartedly), the group-chat is popping the fuck off. It’s definitely too soon, this guy is Too Normal in a very weird way, they barely know him, the wedding is taking place really soon, they should stage in intervention (Eijiro&Tsuyu&Sero), they should kidnap you until you realise what a mistake it would be (Mina&Denki), they should kill him (Deku&Ochako&Iida), etc. It’s pretty weird, then, that Bakugou comes in as the voice of reason; you’re a grown up, and you can make your own decisions. If you really, genuinely want to marry him, that’s up to you; After all the freedom to make your own decisions comes with the responsibility to accept the consequences. (a/n: obvs it would be phrased in a far more Bakugou-esque fashion, but you get my point). So they relent, although they’re still concerned.

So maybe a few days before the wedding he sends you a message (because it’s tricky to get a hold of you in person); he just wants to know what you see in your fiance. He wants to know if you’re really serious about him, or if you’re just settling. It’s not phrased cruelly, but it’s blunt. The message he sends isn’t nice and sweet, but it’s honest, and it comes from a place of concern.

You read it and you don’t reply.

Flash forward again, and it’s the night before the wedding. Wedding Eve, if you will. Bakugou’s in a sour mood and tries to ease his pain by heading to a bar, but it doesn’t really get any better throughout the night. He’s conflicted now more than ever; Is this guy actually awful and bad for you, or is he just jealous? Is he not stepping in because he wants to be respectful of your wishes, or because he’s afraid that by doing so he’ll reveal his own feelings, and suffer the consequent (possible) rejection? Why didn’t he just tell you how he felt before this mess started? He has a few drinks to many, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

5/7 MERRY WEDDINGMAS. It’s the day of the wedding, and because of he hit the bottle too hard last night, Bakugou’s overslept (for the first time in his life, probably). He goes to check his phone – maybe he can still make it to the wedding the venue on time?-

TWO MISSED MESSAGES.

He didn’t realise, but last night you finally replied to his message: You don’t know if you want to get married to this guy.

It’s a long, winding message, but what it boils down to is this- You threw yourself into a relationship with someone you know you don’t really love (you like him well enough, but there’s no spark), because you’ve been spending years muddling your way through a hopeless crush on someone you think will never like you back. So you’ve let yourself go along with this guy, but now you’re on Wedding Eve, and you’ve never been so uncertain of yourself! Your fiance’s a sensible choice (He’s Bland, and he’s Pushy, but he’s Nice, and he’s Normal, but maybe you’re losing yourself in your relationship with him, but maybe you just have cold feet), but you’re not sure that you care any more, and it’s now or never, and it’s ‘You, Bakugou, It’s always been you’, and you’ve been too afraid to tell him, because when does real life play out like the films? When does the years long pining, the roller-coaster of emotions, the ‘I’ve been in love with you since the moment I saw you’, have a happily-ever-after in the real world?

The next message was sent a few hours later. Evidently, you’d calmed down somewhat, because you tell him that you’re sorry for sending him all of that on Wedding Eve, that you’ve had feelings for him for a long time, but if he doesn’t feel the same it would be the kind of closure you’d need to move on. If he doesn’t want to attend the ceremony, you’ll understand and leave him alone. But if he wants to “talk” (👀!!!), then you’ll be waiting for him.

Bakugou feels raw after reading your confession; All this time, and the two of you – despite sharing the same feelings – were so afraid, and for what? The relief, the fear, the hope, all spur him into action.

He’s hungover, he’s in his pyjamas, but all the same he’s rushing towards his expensive, fuel-efficient car as fast as he can, because he has a fuckin’ wedding to stop.

6/7 Meanwhile, you’re stressed, mentally twisting into knots. Bakugou didn’t even read the messages you sent last night, which is both a relief (now you can just get married and move on) and a heart wrenching disappointment (because if you’re being honest with yourself, you were hoping he’d stop you).

You’re wearing an outfit you don’t really like, and your fiance’s family are beaming at you, although you don’t really know them so well. The venue is pleasant but not what you would’ve chosen for yourself. As you walk down the aisle, the band sounds kind of off. Your family and friends are… what? Grimacing? Smiling? Both Smimacing? You aren’t sure.

The ceremony passes in a kind of blur, and you go through the all motions. Mostly, you think of the messages you’d sent to Bakugou. You’d felt so courageous when you finally – finally! - confessed your feelings to him, so hopeful that maybe instead of replying, you’d hear a knock at your door, and he’d sweep you off your feet and- then hours had passed without a word, and you’d been left wondering. Conflicted, and unsure.

As you wait for your fiance to finish his vows (that he wrote himself, but sound like he stole them from a Pinterest board), however, you have a mild epiphany. Did it really matter so much if Bakugou loved you back? Sure, it’d break your heart, but one day you’d heal from it. Besides, he wouldn’t want to settle for some nobody! Bakugou was loyal to his friends, and he wanted the best for them, and that was one of the things you loved most about him! Surely, you owed it to both him, and more importantly, yourself, to put an end to this madness!!

You steel yourself as it gets to That Part of the wedding. The officiant turns to you, and asks if you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband. You face your fiance, and open your mouth to say “Actually…. I DON’T” when-

The doors slam open, and who’s standing there in a matching pair of pyjamas, still holding his car keys? It’s Bakugou, and you only have to lock eyes with him for him to shout – in true romcom fashion – ‘I FUCKIN’ OBJECT’.

7/7 Everyone’s stunned, although the guests on your side of the venue look more thrilled than scandalised.

In truth, I wouldn’t normally peg Bakugou as the “Objecting at a wedding” type, but in this scenario – when the two of you have been pining for so long, when he knows you’d appreciate the spectacle, when he gets to show up that nobody who wasted your time for so long – I think maybe he’d make an exception. Maybe he wouldn’t make some long, protracted speech about how much he loves you, but he MIGHT run to the alter full tilt, and tell you that you’re making a mistake. I do think MAYBE he’d hold out his hand to you, a silent question in his eyes, all while your fiance sputters and rants.

Idk, maybe you say something to the effect of “Looks like he beat me to the punch – I object, too :)”, tell your ex-fiance you’re sorry, but you can’t do this. PERHAPS – after all of the years of wondering, and stressing about whether Bakugou would reject you – you’d just quietly take his hand. And maybe to two of you would scamper off down the aisle to the raucous applause of your friends and family, get into his hatchback or w/e, and drive off into the sunset, certain in the knowledge that – yes, there would be ramifications to running off together like this, but that whatever might come your way you’d face it together! MAYBE.

Idk, I just feel like if he was going to confess his feelings for you after you’d already been engaged, it might be in the form of kissing the back of your hand, pulling off your cheap, shitty engagement ring, throwing it out of the car window, and going for a long drive so you two can finally Talk.

Listen, this really got away from me, and I’m so sorry for flooding your inbox like this. I was just really caught up in the scenario, and wanted to share it with you. Much love 💖

[midnight-mourning]

Good morning, mourning! is it possible for you to show us how you make an outline for writing a chapter sometime in the future? like what does your first rough rough draft look like?🤔

also whats your favorite vine/meme at the moment?🫣

Hi pip!!

I can actually show you RIGHT NOW as I keep all my outlines (for the most part) saved in their respective chapters

*added a read more post-answering bc this got LONG lol*

So, it's sometimes a bit dependent on the fic, what I'm writing at the time, and where I'm at in the process. I usually have two different methods I stick to and typically combine in some manner:

bulleted list of important scenes/ideas to expand out upon from there (typically how I start out ideas for oneshots)

big blurb paragraph of a flow of ideas from start to finish (typically how I start out chapter-based fics, and what I do for Confused Spirit)

From there, I'll then combine the two methods in some way if it's a oneshot, and if I'm struggling to get the words flowing for a chapter-based fic, I'll use the list to expand out upon things I wrote originally. For example, this was ch. 34's outline (spoilers for those who haven't read it yet):

and then the list I added once I got started properly, which I crosssed out as I went along. Fun fact, you can see where I hit a moment of greatness in that last bullet and the chapter came together as a whole from there:

the blacked out is things I've pushed back for later (or just general spoiler stuff), so you can see that inital plans and even those I make WHILE writing the chapter are still subject to change as I go into actually writing it. Another good example would be from ch. 32:

in this case, I went back and added to the original outline (I think you can tell where lmao) and didn't utilize a list

I'd love to find chekov's gun, bc that one was REALLY good if I'm remembering correctly but I think it's buried somewhere in the Dialogue Dump unfortunately 😔

Adding on to that, I write a lot of scene ideas/mainly dialogue for things that happen in the future as the ideas don't typically come to me in chronological order. the party from 33? like a month into writing the story. the team meeting Michael? mid-arc 2. Chekov's gun? the start to midway point in the first couple days of writing and then basically finished within by the middle of august (started in July for those that don't know)

My point being that there's a lot of things that I have saved for certain arcs/plot points that I then insert into their proper place in the story once I find where that is. For arc 3 in particular I took the approach of gathering all the dialogue i KNOW was going to be in the arc, wrote my lil blurbs for all the chapters, and then started placing them accordingly. stuff has (and probably will continue to) gotten shuffled around, but for the most part has stayed in their original places.

a rough rough draft beyond that is basically adding to those base scene ideas (sometimes in order, sometimes not) typically writing dialogue and then filling in the blanks from there! sometimes if I'm lucky I can write a chapter from (mostly) start to finish in a span of four hours or so but that's only when i'm REALLY cookin'

Sorry for the super long winded response, didn't realize how much I wrote until I did it 😅

TL;DR, blurb of ideas, organize those ideas/add to them or adjust, full send it from there (with the potential help of some dialogue along the way)

As for my fav vine/meme currently? Probably the lump fish guy, everytime someone says 'very mindful, very demure' (I am not on tiktok so I do NOT understand this one) I instantly think 'very beautiful, very powerful'

thanks so much for the lovely ask!!! <3 <3 <3

[rayofmisfortune]

SOME SELF INSERT TIME

Debated between calling them Ray or Ash but decided on Ray lmfao

Text in 1st speech bubble: "Holy shit, was that a ghost?"

Some more info dump abt em

"Ray Misfortune"

Czech exchange student

they/them

Frequently switches to their native language when they don't want anyone to overhear what they're saying

Bilingual pain, aka, imagine forgetting how to say CARAMEL of all things

Oh yea tenses are also sometimes a wee bit of a problem but they try their best

More of an introvert, they don't really talk to anyone unless approached

Ghost geek ever since first seeing a ghost in Amity Park

^ ,,TY PIČO DUCHOVÉ JSOU REAL-"

They curse... a lot

Listens to Wes' theories about Phantom's identity, offers their own theories, even though they're almost always wrong

Doodles and writes in class a lot < as some of the material taught is stuff they already knew from their school back home

Is somehow passing all their classes

Ray's more of a background character I may end up using in stuff for j&h or anything else DP related hehe If I do everything right, they won't ever be the main focus of anything, just may be offhandedly mentioned in passing. But the idea for a lil student self insert wouldnt leave me alone jfjfjc so now they exist hehe