#i guess is going to be my answer tag lol

[galaxyinacup]

Would you/ have you ever drawn Flower Ranchers fanart? (Jimmy×Tango×Scott)

I have drawn them before and I have done so again for you all!!!

I was originally just going to repost my previous art of them but my bestie gave me this banger idea for them and I needed to get it out there! (Also that art is like a year old now)

I've grown fond of snowbugs... they are so pretty!

I'll still leave my other art of them under the cut, as well as close ups of this one:

[kindred-spirit-93]

*appears with a note saying "odypen art pls?"*

mwah!

*skidaddles*

russet potato & banana peel <3

[rowanisawriter]

i liek how lucanis follows the playbook and recites the perfect lines right up until the almost kiss—saying a cup of coffee tastes like a kiss, “you don’t know how much trouble i can handle yet”, “you like to walk close to the edge”—and then a switch is flicked and he stops the theatrics. bakes a cake to lock a romance, leaves his own party early just to have a cup of coffee in the quiet dark, gets on his knees with tears in his eyes. i like that very much

[k1tty5]

hello :D please tell me more about your mezalian (is that how you spell it??) smalletho I will forever be indebted to you

(they are gorgeous I love them sm)

hey hi !! it would be my pleasure … (and I’ve been spelling it mezalean ??? but i have no idea LOL. there might be a canon spelling but i havent watched joels esmp1 since… probably since it ended. i will have to check sometime)

apologizing in advance because i will probably get very ramble-y!!

ummm. Oh god. How to start. Lets see. WELL. In this silly little au (i guess it has become a bit more than just me doodling designs LOL) in my head they have like this sort of zelink dynamic? obviously without all the zelda lore & stuff, just that kind of … okay forgive me I haven’t brushed up on my zelink lore for a good many years but. Like the princess and her personal knight that doesn’t really talk much sort of thing.

this made more sense in my head. But yeah. They have the vibes of zelink ? At least if i remember zelink right, I have a really bad memory :’) not exactly the same, i do think etho talks to joel (whereas if iirc link never really talks) - especially after getting to know him a bit - but just. they have the Vibes. You know?

I reckon Joel’s definitely very into sculpting in this au, maybe dabbles a little in painting - I imagine mezalea to be very heavy on art and expression in general. think you’d especially see lots of pottery and textiles all around the place. He probably also has an interest in some form of like. um. whats the word. Some sort of … fighting. lmao. Specifically thinking of fencing, i had this idea in my head that he’s watched Etho practice outside the palace at some point and is just absolutely fascinated and enamored. by both the practice and etho himself haha.

and for etho… talented swordsman? he is Not washed. i dont really have many ideas for his character in this au To be completely honest, mostly just of his personality. Although, I alsooo think he’s probably not actually from mezalea? I like to draw him with those pointy elf ears, and i think mezaleans are just humans. I cant remember if thats canon or not but um. mezaleans have human ears, so i’d imagine etho’s probably from like.. rivendelle? Is that. What it’s called. The elf guys? Are they elves??? Goodness I cant remember. Grimlands would make sense too since i THINK they’re kind of like. technical engineer guys? but i dont know what species they are um so ,,, yeah,,,,

i think joel’s probably a bit put off by etho at first, mostly just because he’s not super enthused about the idea of a personal guard, but also because the guys a bit odd, you know? but he’s also probably suuuper intrigued by him. he wants to figure this new guy out, and when they start talking a bit more, i think. They are both incredibly charmed by the other. head over heels? possibly.

most of my ideas of this au are just little scenes that are cute and silly but dont follow any main plot. I would love to write some one-shots of some of the ideas i have in the future, but as of right now im experiencing a bout of creative burnout and am busy with the holidays - spending time with family, so… not right now lol!

hopefully this is what you wanted,,,, i tend to get very ramble-y when talking about literally anything, so i do apologize for that haha, i am Not good at explaining things in simple ways, as i’ve said many a time before.

[organised-disaster]

@randosfandos @baxieblur-turnip

[skyloftian-nutcase]

So how would Ganondorf fit into the whole hdw/imprisoning war thing? Like how does he act and stuff

Well, given that me throwing Power into @skyward-floored’s HDW AU is literally just for fun (also Peggy’s fault, she started it LOL, I’m saying this lightheartedly and lovingly XD), I’d preface that it doesn’t really matter.

HOWEVER

I imagine Peggy is just utilizing Ganondorf as he is in canon for her AU, as the focus is on Link, Impa, and Volga, not our favorite pig dude, i.e. Mr. Foaming-at-the-Mouth-Evil-because-He’s-Eeeeeevil. In Golden Mercy, however, he gets a redemption arc, bred from crushing guilt and regret. So I suppose the happy medium if we’re talking our silly mixture of the two is that he’s more akin to Wind Waker Ganondorf: somber, remorseful, but still 100% willing to kill children to get what he wants.

But I imagine he’d do anything to hold Power and protect him. So make of that what you will. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter as this is just a silly mix of AUs ;)

[jadevalentine-writes]

Hannibal Fic WIP - Mystery Neighbor AU

Riding the high of completing Wild Hunt, I'm here to thrust another WIP upon ye. Behold, my first Hannibal fic, and despair!

Tagging the muses: @subtlybrilliant, @tindragon09, @prommethium

---

Hannibal noticed something was off the moment he pulled into his driveway. Out of caution, he remained in the Bentley, engine idling, as he studied the exterior of his home in the waning summer light. 

The front doors were closed and the windows he could see looked intact. The back of the townhouse was obscured by the eight foot wooden privacy fence but he didn’t notice any signs of disruption from his point of view. Of course his security system would have alerted him to any unwanted entry, but Hannibal Lecter was nothing if not pragmatic. Any criminal worth their salt could easily disable an alarm, even one as expensive as his. 

Hannibal sighed and turned to his right, looking instead to the long empty townhouse next to his own. A moment’s reprieve was his goal, a negative to his own home’s exterior to make any differences more apparent. 

Then he saw it. 

A for sale sign swung gently in the warm breeze. 

Hannibal smiled and turned off the car. 

The quote “Netherfield Park was let at last” came to mind, though the townhouse to his right held none of the grandeur of the fictitious estate. Hannibal also doubted that a wealthy man in want of a wife would find his way to this particular Baltimore neighborhood anytime soon. And there certainly would not be any grande balls, to his chagrin. 

Hannibal chided his caution as he approached the front door. Although he rarely interacted with his neighbors, the prospect of a new one was still exciting. Perhaps they would have a taste for art and music, like he did, and he would see them at gallery openings and operas, nodding to each other over champagne and rocks glasses but never speaking. Maybe they would appreciate fine dining as he did and he could try new dishes out on them if he was feeling adventurous. 

Or perhaps they would be new to their wealth and rude, and they would feature in a dish themselves.

***

The next evening, Hannibal returned home with dinner on his mind. 

There was a liver he should really use before it was past its prime and he was debating on how to prepare it.  Marinating was best, and it did not bother him to eat late. He was walking towards the door, mentally going through his stock of wine that would pair well with the main course when he heard a creak that made him pause. 

Hannibal angled his head towards the door, listening intently for breathing on the other side, when again his gaze landed on the sign in the yard next door. 

Sale Pending the attachment underneath swayed. 

Well, that was fast. 

Hannibal smirked as he let himself into the foyer. Soon, he would have a new neighbor and a new source of entertainment or irritation, at least for a little while.

***

Saturday brought with it slumber and sunshine. 

And multiple dogs barking. 

The last drove Hannibal from the warmth of his bed out of academic curiosity. He rarely heard dogs in his neighborhood, let alone so close to his house. The dogs of the Baltimore elite were small, to be seen, not heard, and toted around in designer bags.

These dogs sounded larger and multiple. 

Hannibal crossed the hall to the guest bedroom which was adjacent to his driveway and looked out. 

His neighbor had arrived, in four-legged, frantic glory. 

[piningpercussionist]

how many (distinctly different) asks can i put in before they get annoying?

One.

(ooc: just putting this in the body of the post to be sure you see it, but. This is very much just the Kim answer! I am still behind on asks because of Life Stuff and have a bunch left to get to sometime, but yall are always free to send me literally as many as you guys want. If I get repeats I'll bundle em or delete 'em- responses still just might be a while. And ty for the asks!)

[firendgold]

Since I saw that you're doing the violence ask game can you answer 22, 25 and 7??

I sure can.~

This one got long af though, so another readmore.

(still choosing violence)

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

This is another one I've answered already, but tbf... it was yesterday. So I can pull my second favorite part of canon instead so you don't have to re-read an older answer.

There's two moments that tie: one in year 5 and one in year 6. Year 5's moment is a nice warm-and-fuzzy "the trio are such good friends" scene, in the midst of Umbridge torturing Harry with her quill:

It was nearly midnight when Harry left Umbridge’s office that night, his hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf he had wrapped around it. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical. “Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.” Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks’s ears with his left hand. “I still reckon you should complain about this,” said Ron in a low voice. “No,” said Harry flatly. “McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—” “Yeah, she probably would,” said Harry. “And how long d’you reckon it’d take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?” Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way. “She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in . . . we’ve got to do something about her.” “I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

Just seeing the trio bounce off each other is soothing (especially after reading days or weeks worth of fanfics where they all suddenly hate each other or were never really that good of friends or whatever). Harry's gratitude and stubbornness, Hermione's caretaking and forethought and plotting, Ron's voice of reason and necessary dash of humor... all perfect. Also, just... Harry is so used to going things alone, toughing things out by himself. It's heartwarming and sad that he still doesn't expect Ron and Hermione to do something as simple as waiting up for him to get back from hellish detention. Also also: Crookshanks curling up with him. ^^

Year 6's moment is just between Harry and Hermione:

Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited and a moment later the vulture-like countenance of Madam Pince appeared round the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying. ‘The library is now closed,’ she said. ‘Mind you return anything you have borrowed to the correct – what have you been doing to that book, you depraved boy?’ ‘It isn’t the library’s, it’s mine!’ said Harry hastily, snatching his copy of Advanced Potion-Making off the table as she lunged at it with a clawlike hand. ‘Despoiled!’ she hissed. ‘Desecrated! Befouled!’ ‘It’s just a book that’s been written in!’ said Harry, tugging it out of her grip. She looked as though she might have a seizure; Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frogmarched him away. ‘She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why did you have to bring that stupid book?’ ‘It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them …’ ‘Oh, ha, ha …’ Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted, lamplit corridors back to the common room, arguing about whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

Very, very cute scene showing Harry and Hermione getting along casually, something we're not often treated to even in canon. A frankly disturbing amount of fans (particularly fans of A Specific Ship I Will Not Mention Here) have bought into the propaganda that Harry and Hermione aren't really that good of friends just because during GOF, when he'd just experienced his first ever schism with a close friend, Harry privately confessed to missing Ron and enjoying the things he did with his male best friend more. The trio is not "Harry and Ron, then Ron and Hermione". It's "Harry, Ron, and Hermione"; all three of them are necessary pieces of the whole. Harry and Hermione's friendship is different than Harry's with Ron, but it's no less valuable, and not any weaker, or else Hermione wouldn't have stayed in that damned tent.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Every bit of discourse about Sirius not getting a trial. We know. The injustice is the point. The cruelty is the point. The POINT is to show that wizarding Britain is glitz and glamor and not all that fair to its marginalized peoples and underclass, you nimrods. Frankly, the fanfics that purport to 'fix' it by giving Sirius his "restored Lordship" or a bunch of seats on the Wizengamot or immediate "wizarding guardianship" over Harry or some unnamed hot babes for him to fuck on or off-screen are very... shallow and unsatisfying. Either that or they give him a bunch of money, though this would at least be on brand for the Ministry. But like... yeah. I'm tired of this complaint always going in the same direction and not being a gateway to Greater Commentary On The Series and the World. Because it's not like Sirius and/or Harry become the type of people who rebel against this ideology. If anything, they embrace the pureblood nonsense in a lot of these fics and are just mad that Sirius was the target that one time. Gaaaah.

And, and. Every bit of discourse about Dumbledore leaving Harry at the Dursleys and/or the sacrificial lamb throwaway line by Snape, especially because 99.9% of people discussing it either haven't read the books, haven't read them since the first time and desperately need a re-read, have only seen the movies, are parroting opinions from some other wrong person on the internet, are all read-up but blatantly ignoring what Dumbledore and Harry say (and don't say) over what they THINK they mean, or some other lovely form of ignorance that leads to the same long-debunked takes being re-introduced as GASP-DID-YOU-EVER-CONSIDER soundbites over and over and over and OVER again. I'm so sick of it.

I get it, JKR's a TERF, you don't want to re-engage with her work, and you don't have to. You don't have to give her any more money. Hell, you shouldn't, ever again. But please, fucking make sure your knowledge is correct and not fandom telephone when it comes to Harry's childhood and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I'm not-even-lowkey sick of some of y'all at this point.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

I... don't have an immediate answer for this, so I'm going to have to think about it. To you it's only going to take me one line, but for me it'll actually be like... an evening or something.

...

Okay.

This is difficult because (to use the exact terminology) I can't think of a character I've come to hate because of how the fandom acts about them. I definitely have characters whose most popular fanon versions are so irritating or repulsive that it has caused me to look more critically on the real versions of them, though. I guess maybe I'll list those here.

Fleur came to mind first. She seems (and can be) very shallow and haughty in canon at first, but shows compassion and hidden depths in all three of her appearances. She has some veela hair in her wand from her grandmother, and a deep devotion for her younger sister. However... many fanfics (especially harem fanfics or flowerpot fanfics) paint her as either this femme fatale who uses her "veela allure" at will and Cannot Fathom the idea of a man who can resist her (and is thus more vulnerable to falling in love with such a man) or as a super-powerful witch whose family is basically running Magical France (since of course, she is the only French character we know, so why wouldn't she be the most influential person there? /s). Basically, the "foreign" version of what people do to fanon Daphne Greengrass. Ironically, the best fanfic portrayals of Fleur I've seen are the ones that keep her shipped with Bill (with a few flowerpot exceptions, see A Beautiful Lie by MaybeMayba as the prime example), or ship her with Hermione or Ginny... which is sad because I love me some ship variety. (And I still think Bill/Tonks would've been rad as hell.) So I don't dislike canon Fleur, but fanon's "over-attention" to that possible veela heritage and the weird implication that Harry was just "forced" not to notice this perfect woman in his life, rather than just noticing her beauty and not being interested, rubs me the wrong way and disinclines me from including her in many of my own works.

The Bones family is next. Yes, both Amelia and Susan. Susan isn't as bad (I think she has... two lines in Order of the Phoenix? maybe?), but as with most "mostly undefined" HP girls, the personality the fandom has given her (the super sweet politically-savvy Hufflepuff girlfriend of "just do independent!Harry with Lordships and pro-Ministry propaganda and plenty of Wizengamot meetings between Hogwarts classes") is one I've seen so many times it has come to negatively affect my view of the real girl, even though I think the way she calls Amelia "auntie" in canon is adorable. As for Amelia, fanon likes to make her either the Only Sane Man in the Ministry or the leader of the sane faction, who magically is able to fix or ignore all the corruption in said Ministry and can railroad through whatever decisions Harry needs done once he needs to Do Political or Pureblood Stuff Outside of Hogwarts--provided, of course, he's been nice enough to Susan recently.

The closest actual answer to this question I have is Tom Riddle. I didn't like him in canon by any means--I'd probably say I was neutral toward him, just seeing him as "the young Voldemort before he did his magical girl transformation". But fanon kind of acts like he and Voldemort are... two different people? There's these pervasive ideas that either Tom could've been "saved" if Certain People Just Did More (to stop him sneaking around and bullying and murdering???), or that Tom wasn't really so bad when he was gathering up supporters, murdering his family members and the few people who trusted him, and generally going around Becoming the Dark Lord--it was just when he made the switch that he became bad. And like... no. I can't buy that. Even in fanfic, I can't get fully behind the idea of a sane Tom Riddle who was Doing Good until he got sidetracked Oh Nooo. He wasn't. I believe Voldemort was saner before he tried to kill a baby and it backfired, but I don't think there was ever a point where he could have been saved. At every fork he made the wrong decision--to soothe his ego, to feel powerful, to feel special, to feel better than others and make them feel that way too. Tom Riddle's a prick. If anything, we should've seen him squirm a little more before he died.

The last one stings, because it's a character I adore: Hermione. Hermione is a very polarizing figure in canon and always has been, I get it. But what particularly hurts me about her fanon portrayals is that they are VERY SELDOM accurate, or even balanced. Either the author sees her as Their Wife and so she is perfect and never does any wrong and basically becomes the main character of the fic (even if she is not actually the main character), or they overinflate her flaws and use it as a reason to hate on her and bash her to oblivion. There's rarely an in-between. I'm not sure which one is worse. If you held my feet to the fire, I might say the former because a character without any flaws or one who takes over the entire narrative and doesn't let other characters breathe is not fucking interesting to me in the slightest.

This especially hurts because I am a huge Harmony fan and like 60% of bad Harmony fanfics are always the same fucking tropes/plotlines. Hermione is unironically referred to as The Brightest Witch of THE Age (incorrect, not what Remus said. he said "the brightest witch of your age I've ever met", basically meaning she's unusually smart for a fourteen year-old girl). She's treated like the next female Dumbledore who has all the answers (even about stuff she wouldn't know) and often guides Harry's every move.

And speaking of Dumbledore--the same girl who is supportive of him in canon and (after Harry) is MOST likely to recognize Dumbledore as a human who can make mistakes is ALWAYS turned into a Dumbledore Skeptic Who Has Been Suspicious of His Motives All Along, and who will do whatever it takes to get her boyfriend away from his manipulations... by taking manipulative!Dumbledore's place. That's right. This version of fanon Hermione ALWAYS becomes the same thing the author is supposedly railing against, because Harry becomes her mouthpiece, spends all his time with her to the exclusion of anyone else, and can't have a single meeting or meaningful scene with any other character unless she is also present.

Haphne fics do this too, but I swear they got it from bad Harmony fics and it makes me so mad. For once, I would love to read a Harmony fic where Dumbledore is portrayed accurately and both Harry AND Hermione are equal, independent partners who don't have panic attacks if separated for more than five minutes. Especially because as a child Hermione never struck me as the kind of person who even would get married or have a serious relationship distracting her from her Great Work!

But yeah. That last one hurts the most because I love Hermione as an individual, as the very important third of the trio, as a potential partner for Harry (though this isn't the right blog for that!), and just as an iconic character.

I... think that's all? Yep. Thanks~!

[swordsonnet]

alright, it's been two weeks, so i'm going to stop tagging spoilers for good omens season 2!

[kalashtars]

.

[queenerdloser]

so based on past yearly data, it sounds like some of the schools i applied to will probably start doing responses as early as next week, which means i'm about to become like the most stressed anxious lap dog of a person who has ever existed when it comes to checking my email

[novacainedaydreams]

I see you all the time in anti tommy stuff. I take it you're not a fan of him?

YAY my first ever ask! (:

To answer your question, I am not. Once upon a time I did and then he started becoming more and more of a jackass. (Aka his persona being revealed to be a sham and his real self showing up more and more.) Plus I got super embarrassed about it at the same time. I didn't become a full on supporter of his downfall though until I saw his standup. Let's just say I saw red.

I still think about him a lot depending on the day because of the impact he (I mean, his DSMP character) had for those few years during quarantine and the last bit of high school. Hence my engagement with stuff involving him. Plus being a little bit of hater is fun from time to time.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

first things first:

a HUGE thank you to all the people who’ve been signal boosting this, you guys are the freakin’ MVPs. I really, genuinely didn’t anticipate this big of a response.

with that in mind, I’ll give at least a little bit of further information here:

I’m currently aiming for the group to open a good while after SotO drops; so it's not quite here yet, but it's definitely in the works. that way we can have some time to see what the new expansion has in store-- both in terms of new content, and new story that might be relevant. I'm personally hoping for a new guild hall, but we'll see!

as things start coming together, I'll make announcements here and there to give a heads up as to what's in progress, and when things start opening up. all of them will be posted to the #GW2 RP tag, so with luck you should see more information roll into there soon!

and now I have a little bit for those wanting to know about the background and plot thus far, too!

the setting would use a little project I've been working on for a while; the Tideturners, a mysterious band of Mistwalkers who have been dwelling outside of Tyria for a long, long while. decades in the Mists have made them cautious and wily, learning to survive in conditions no mortal was meant to endure. the Turnabout is their home now-- and for many, the opportunity for a new beginning. you'll find faces both old and new among their ranks.... friends and foes alike wander their halls, but none of them are quite the way you recall.

if you'd like to know a bit about their origins, I've got a rough character summary on their 'founder,' the Sidewinder. it's a bit on the older side, but it should be enough to get the gist!

I aim to start things off fairly low-stakes, but if participants are interested, there would be some long-term plots to uncover as well. the Mists are filled with unknown threats, and many are far too large for even a Commander to handle alone. the forces that robbed the Tideturners of their home are still out there... and they're on the move. be ready for anything. the tide is coming in, and it's closer than you think.

Your world is just about to get a whole lot bigger.

alright. know what? with Secrets of the Obscure right around the corner and plenty of new Mists-related sky island settings coming with it, I'll just bite the bullet and interest-check a little something I've been turning in my head for a long, long while.

would YOU be interested in a Mists-based GW2 roleplay guild that uses a lore compliant multiverse system to allow canon, canon-adjacent, lore-breaking, and otherwise 'contradictory' muses to coexist in the same setting?

simply put: every writer's cast would be set in their own self-contained universe. as such, everyone could bring whatever muses they want with their own personal headcanons, and no one could dictate what is or isn't canon for anyone else. so long as your muses are GW2-based, you're good to go! bring your Commanders, bring your canon-divergent OCs, bring your canon muses-- and yes, even the ones that are 'supposed' to be dead. who can say what might have happened in a strange world far across the Mists, after all?

neutral hubs and in-character safety guardrails would be in place to keep all muses on a relatively even playing field regardless of their power, history, and prestige, too. play hardball if you like, but it might not end quite the way you'd hope. the main rule would be to maintain good OOC etiquette at all times: no godmodding, no metagaming, no theft, don't blend IC and OOC, and so-on.

if that sounds like something you might have interest in, please interact with this post! and if you've got questions or concerns, I'd love to hear them; feel free to send an ask or a DM, or just reply to this post!

[mafiadad5]

Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who..pt.2

Perv!bestfriend! jisung x fem!reader (part 1)

mdni!!! 18+

warnings- (neck) kissing, alcohol consumption, dry humping, choking kinda?, he’s kinda manipulative lol, they’re both kinda pervy.

W/c- 3.1k

a/n- ty for all the support on the last post! I hope you enjoy

Tags- @joonsprettygf @machilattee @nosungluv

Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who couldn't stop staring at you eating ice cream. The way your lips wrapped around the ice cream cone, how your tongue swirled around the tip, chasing the dripping mess before it could reach your hand, it had him gripping the edge of the park bench to keep himself grounded. Each flick of your tongue sent a jolt of heat straight through him to his dick. He swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away. He couldn't help but get riled up, look at you.

"You're... really good at that." He blurted out before his brain could process what he had said.

Your head turned toward him, eyes wide in surprise. "Good at what?" You asked, blinking at him innocently.

"Oh, um... nothing. Never mind." He stammered, his ears burning as he quickly looked away, pretending to find something, anything else interesting.

You shrugged, brushing it off with a small smile.

Jisung couldn't just let it go though. He tried he really did, but every time you leaned forward to lick at the sides of the cone, his gaze was drawn back to you. The movements of your lips, the slight shimmer of the ice cream glossing your lips, it was driving him insane.

When you suddenly turned to him again, his heart nearly stopped. 

"What Jisung?" You asked, a giggle escaping your lips, his heart nearly stopping as you turned to him.

A drop of melting ice cream slid down the cone Jisung's eyes staring right at it as it dripped onto your finger.

"You might wanna get that." He said, his voice lower than he intended, gesturing to the mess on your hand.

"Oh!" You said, licking the trail of ice cream off your finger, staring directly into his eyes.

His gaze locked on you, the way your tongue stuck out to clean the sticky mess, the casual way you sucked the tip of your finger clean... It was torture.

Jisung's throat felt dry as he forced himself to look away, but the image of you was burned into his mind. He clenched his fists, trying to keep himself composed. God he wished it was him instead of the ice cream. He needed to feel your tongue so bad, your lips, your everything. To let you ruin him completely, then make him beg for more.

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Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who suggested that you both play a game while you were both in a store.

"The Chapstick Challenge... what's that?" You asked, your brows furrowing as you looked at Jisung's mischievous grin.

"It's simple. You put on different chapstick flavors, and guess what flavor it is." He explained, holding up a pack of brightly colored chapsticks from the shelf.

"That actually sounds like... fun." You hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously.

"So are you in?" He asked, grabbing a few packs and pretending to examine them closely. The way his lips twitched into a smirk made you feel as if he'd been planning this.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." You answered, rolling your eyes.

Later the two of you sat on the couch, the pile of chapsticks in between you. Jisung ripped open a package, his fingers quickly removing the cap.

"So um... what are the rules again?" You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

"You put on the chapstick, kiss the other person, and they have to guess the flavor.. easy." He said, leaning back casually

"Kiss?" Your head snapped toward him, brow raised in disbelief. "You didn't mention that part earlier, Jisung."

"Must've slipped my mind." He said with an innocent shrug. "Anyways, I already bought everything. It'd be a waste not to play."

"Jisung, this sounds..."

"Shh." He interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. "It's just a few kisses. Let's play."

"Fine." You sighed, giving in. "You go first."

Jisung grinned, opening the first chapstick and slathering on a thick layer. He leaned in, his eyes locked onto yours as you moved closer.

You started with a hesitant peck, your lips grazing his as you tried to catch the flavor.

"Wait." You murmured, leaning in again for a longer kiss. His lips were soft and warm.

"Cherry." You guessed, pulling back.

"Yep." He replied, his voice a little lower than usual. "Your turn."

You grabbed a chapstick, twisting it open as Jisung watched intently. His gaze was locked on your lips as you rubbed the flavor on, his eyes darkening slightly.

"Come on." You said, motioning him closer.

He leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was slow, his lips moving against yours roughly, tasting every part of the flavor. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he dragged his tongue along your bottom lip.

When he finally pulled away his lips glistened, and he smacked them. 

"Strawberry?"

"Yep." You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"This is too easy." He said smirking.

"Yeah, it is." You replied.

"I have an idea to make it harder." He suggested, leaning forward with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

"And how's that Ji?" You asked, suspicious of what he was up to.

"Pick a chapstick, and I'll guess, but this time not on your lips." He said, his grin growing wider.

You arched a brow but complied, handing him a random one from the pile. He opened it, twisting the stick until the product showed. "Hold still." He murmured.

His fingers tilted your chin, and he smeared the chapstick along the curve of your neck, his touch lingering longer than necessary. Your heart raced as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your skin.

The first kiss was soft, testing, but he quickly grew bolder, his tongue darting out to taste the flavor. He sucked lightly, leaving your skin tingling, and when he finally pulled back, his breath was shaky.

"Grape." He said, licking his lips slowly.

You nodded, still caught a little of guard.

"Your turn, but I don't think you can top that." He said, leaning back with a smug look.

"Challenge accepted." You shot back, determined to win.

He handed you a chapstick and you uncapped it, smirking. "Be fair." he warned, his voice teasing. "I did a thin layer."

"Ok." You said, leaning closer. You rubbed the chapstick across his neck, your fingers brushing against his skin. 

You leaned in, starting with a gentle kiss. His skin was warm, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered around you. You licked softly at first trying to pick up the flavor, but you couldn't help yourself—you went harder, pressing your lips firmly to his skin as you sucked.

A quiet sound escaped him, a low hum.

"Hmm." You murmured against his neck, the vibrations causing a sharp inhale from him. "This is hard." You whispered, your breath on his neck making him shiver. You went back in, tongue dragging over his skin, trying to pick up any flavor.

"Don't stop." He moaned out softly. 

You froze, pulling back to look at him. "What?"

"Uh...I said hurry up." He stuttered, his cheeks flushed. "You're taking forever."

"Right..." You said, narrowing your eyes at him but deciding not to press further. You went back in, kissing and tasting until you were certain of the flavor.

"Mango." You said confidently, pulling back.

"Y-yeah." He breathed, his voice shaky. "You're good. Really, really good."

You couldn't miss the way he shifted awkwardly, his hands moving to adjust his sweatpants.

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Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who agreed to meet you at a bar for country night because you didn't want to go alone. You were really only there for the bull riding, so it wouldn't be that bad, he told himself.

When he arrived you were already a little tipsy, which always made you... touchier. That was never good for him because, tipsy or not, he wasn't as good at holding himself together when you got all touchy.

"Ji!" you called out, beaming when you saw him. Before he could respond, you stumbled up to him, throwing your arms around his neck. "Oh, you look sexy Ji. I like the whole cowboy look."

Jisung tried to laugh it off, but pretty much failed. He had thrown on a flannel and a hat as a joke, but the way you looked at him made it feel anything but funny. "Uh.. thanks." He muttered, sucking his teeth.

"You know what they say... Save a horse, ride a cowboy." You smiled, pressing a little closer to him, your hands sliding down his chest, fingers grazing his torso.

Jisung felt his breath hitch as you stared up at him, your teasing smile making heat creep up his neck. He let out a low chuckle, trying not to choke on his own thoughts. "Mm?" He hummed, tilting his head, almost like he didn't know exactly what you were hinting at.

You giggled and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the bar. "Come on. I'm ready to bull ride now."

You were finally where you wanted to be, riding on the bull. Having the time of your life, and when the ride started, he couldn't look away.

Your body swayed, hips rolling and legs squeezing the bull as you threw your free hand in the air. You tossed your head back, eyes closing as you smiled.

The crowd cheered around you, but Jisung could only hear his own heartbeat, bitting his lip as his grin slowly turning into a smirk. He watched the way your body moved, the way your thighs flexed and your waist shifted. You looked so beautiful right now, imagine how you would look on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you as your body rocked in sync with his. 

Fuck, it was happening again, getting turned on by you in public. He's not a creep right? God, he was a mess—you made him a mess.

"So? How'd I do?" Your voice broke through his thoughts. 

Jisung blinked, forcing himself back to the present as you stood in front of him. "Oh! You did great." He said quickly, clearing his throat. "Who knew you were so good at bull riding?"

You laughed. "I'm a pro rider Ji." You joked, licking your lips slowly as your hand came up to rub his shoulder.

His body tensed under your touch. You had no idea what you were doing to him, did you? Or maybe you did, and you were just waiting for him to snap.

"Yeah..." He said, his voice quieter now. His gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for just a second too long before he looked away. "I can tell."

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Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who had suggested staying in instead of going out, claiming it would be more fun to drink at home where you could "really let loose." You'd agreed of course.

You both were several drinks in, the air between you loose, the kind of looseness that only came with alcohol and the comfort of being around someone you trusted. The TV on in the background, but neither of you were paying much attention.

"Fuck, it's hot." Jisung muttered, fanning himself dramatically before tugging his shirt over his head. His toned chest and stomach were suddenly on full display, his sweats hanging just low enough to show his V-line that disappeared beneath the waistband.

You froze for a moment, your eyes lingering on him longer than they should have. You quickly looked away, but it was too late—he'd noticed.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said, his voice low and teasing as he turned to you, his lips curling into a cheeky smile. His eyes slightly shut from the alcohol, holding a glimmer of mischief.

"Be quiet." You shot back laughing.

"Make me." He countered, leaning closer, his smirk growing wider.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you looked back at the TV unbothered, but you could feel his gaze still on you, burning into your skin.

"You know," he started, his voice dropping a notch, "you can touch me if you want. I know you like to be held when you're drunk."

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing. "I'm fine. Seems like you want to be touched though, huh?" You teased.

His grin widened. "You wouldn't." He said, his tone daring as he leaned back against the couch, completely unbothered, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

"I wouldn't?" You responded.

"Nope. You don't have the guts." He said, that same innocent smirk on his face.

"Bet?" You challenged, leaning closer, your eyes locking with his.

He shrugged, but his eyes never left yours. "Bet."

Without breaking eye contact, you reached out and placed your hand on his bare chest. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"That's nothing." He said with a soft laugh, his voice was slightly strained.

"Oh really?" You said, raising a brow as your hand slid up, brushing over his collarbone before settling on the side of his neck.

"What about this?" You asked, your fingers lightly tracing his skin.

"Better..." He admitted, his voice dipping lower. Then he smirked, leaning closer until his lips were just a breath away from your ear. "But what about here?"

You pulled back slightly to see where he was gesturing, his hand rested boldly on his lap, right over the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

"Ew Ji! You're such a creep." You laughed, hitting him lightly on the cheek.

"Hey, I was just challenging you." He said, grinning as if he hadn't just crossed a line. "And guess what? I told you you wouldn't do it, and you didn't."

"I would." You shot back, determined not to let him win.

"Oh yeah?" He said, raising a brow. "Prove it."

Your eyes narrowed at his challenge. Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on top of his, which still rested on his lap.

"Your hand's in the way though." You smiled. 

"Oops." He said with a smug grin, sliding his hand out from under yours, leaving your palm flush against the heat of his lap.

You froze for a second, your fingers twitching as the situation fully registered.

"Ewww." You laughed, quickly pulling your hand away. "I still did it, though!"

"Yeah sure." He said, smirking as he adjusted his position. "Barely counts."

"It counts." You said.

"Then do it again." He challenged.

You stared at him for a second before smiling. "But I'm tired." You said, lying down, your head resting on his lap. 

"Scaredy cat." He whispered, his hand resting on your head. 

You fake snored, closing your eyes, leaving Jisung there with a painful hard on—and there was nothing he could do about it.  ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Perv!bestfriend!Jisung who suggested you sit on his lap for the road trip because the luggage took up one of the seats, you didn't think twice about it. Out of everyone in the car, you felt the most comfortable with him.

"All comfy? We're gonna be here for a while," Jisung asked as you adjusted yourself in his lap, settling in.

"Yeah, I'm good." You replied, leaning back slightly as the driver started the car.

The first hour passed without issue. You both alternated between scrolling on your phones and chatting. Every now and then, you'd shift to get more comfortable, and he'd tease you lightly.

"Quit squirming, you're making it worse." You didn't think much of it, but then the road got bumpier, and something started to feel... off.

It began with his breathing, heavier than normal. You ignored it at first, figuring he was just tired or zoning out, but soon he started shifting underneath you, subtly at first, then more noticeably.

"Ji... you okay?" You asked, turning your head slightly to speak over the loud music.

"Yeah, all good." He replied quickly, but his voice was strained, almost shaky.

"You sure?" You pressed, raising an eyebrow as you glanced back at him.

"Fuck-" He muttered under his breath, his head tipping back against the headrest. "Yes, just... just stay still, okay?"

Now you were suspicious. His flushed cheeks and the way his hands were gripping you told a different story.

Before you could say anything else, the car hit another bump in the road. You felt him stiffen beneath you, a low, breathy moan escaping his lips, just loud enough for you to hear. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in place.

"Ji... are you-"

Another bump cut you off, and this time, he couldn't hold back a whimper. His hands tightened on your hips, pressing you down against him as he let out a shaky exhale near your ear.

"Fuck, oh my god." He murmured, almost to himself. You felt him subtly grind his hips upward, using the motion of the car as an excuse to move against you.

"Ji stop, what are you doing?" You said, your face heating up as you realized exactly what was happening.

"I... I can't." He stuttered, his voice breathy and desperate. "Just... stay still. Please."

But he didn't stay still. As the car bounced over the uneven road, he began moving you deliberately, gripping your waist and subtly guiding you to grind against him. Each bump only making it worse.

"Fuck." He whimpered, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he buried his face against your back. "I'm almost there."

Your heart raced as you froze, his breathing growing heavier, his hips pressing up harder into you as he let out another moan.

"Jisung seriously..."

"Shit, I'm coming." He groaned softly, his grip tightening as his body shuddered beneath you.

You felt him jerk slightly, and then... warmth. Your eyes widened as you realized what had just happened.

"Sorry." He whispered, his face buried against you in shame. Before you could say anything, he shouted to the driver.

 "I really need a bathroom break!"

The car pulled into a gas station, and Jisung bolted out, awkwardly covering himself as he rushed inside. You sat there, frozen in disbelief, your mind racing.

As you waited, you overheard the driver talking to someone in the back.

"Looks like we mispacked...somehow. There's enough room for all the luggage now. Y/n can have a seat to herself."

You blinked in confusion. How could they have mispacked after the trip started?

When Jisung finally returned, his face was a mix of embarrassment and forced nonchalance. He avoided your gaze as he climbed back into the car, muttering an apology under his breath.

"So uh..." He started, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Guess you don't have to sit on my lap anymore."

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