#you do not know. how absolutely infuriated and insane I feel trying to write this

[itwillbelonelywontit]

lo and behold, the very beginnings of a project I've been quietly working on for months; an impossible and mind-breaking endeavor known as my personal Lawlight Happy Ending.

[autumn-leaves]

it's fanfic writer appreciation week and i wanted to take a minute to appreciate you!! i recently read your vld fic on AO3 and loved it so much. you're a very talented writer with creative ideas and great dialogue. you're also a delightful person to interact with in any capacity!! i think you have a lot to be proud of :)

I am. So genuinely touched by this, thank you 😭 I have been a very big fan of your writing for years now, and knowing you have read my writing is insane, and I'm especially grateful because I know you cut ties with that fandom a while ago.

Thank you so much for this kind message, I read it and blacked out and wrote a camp camp fic for you 😭😭 hope you enjoy, and thank you for being you!!! <3

(written all in one go and barely checked for errors, so my apologies for any mistakes)

When Gwen woke up that morning, she knew it was going to be a terrible day. She didn’t know the how or the why yet, but deep down something was telling her to roll over, close her eyes, and block out the world until the sun rose again tomorrow. 

Unfortunately for Gwen, that wasn’t how being responsible for a group of kids worked, no matter whether the kids in question were absolute shits or not. So, instead, she took a deep breath, forced her eyes back open and sat up looking over to David’s side of the shared councillors cabin. Normally Gwen would wake to the sight of David preparing supplies for the day’s craft activities, or planning the hiking route, or even doing some kind of strengthening yoga routine, which took entirely too much energy and willpower for five thirty in the morning, in Gwen’s opinion. 

Instead, what greeted her today was a vaguely David-shaped lump under the covers. Gwen blinked once, then twice, but the view didn’t change. In all the time Gwen has worked alongside David, she cannot recall a single instance in which she has woken up before him, and it does nothing to calm her nerves. 

Shrugging it off, she hauls herself out of bed and into the shower, and by the time she emerges David is up and ready to go, smiling and chattering away as usual, and part of her relaxes. Maybe today won't be so bad.

Typically, the day gets worse. 

That, in and of itself, isn’t strictly unusual for Camp Campbell, but it’s a different brand of WrongTM today, one that Gwen does not care for. That morning in the mess hall, a food fight had broken out, getting so bloodthirsty that multiple windows ended up smashed, shattering completely. Honestly? Gwen couldn’t care less; that was a problem for the Quartermaster. Their first activity of the day had been archery, which had ended in a flaming arrow planting itself firmly into their trash bin and starting a foul-smelling, impossible-to-put-out, literal dumpster fire. That’s whatever, if Gwen is honest. Lunch had passed in a blur, in which David and Gwen had had to ban knives, leaving the kids to poke aimlessly at their food with plastic sporks, but she thought maybe the little shits deserved it. 

Collapsing back onto her spot on the councillors table with David, she watched them wolf down their ice cream, clearly none of them willing to risk the rare treat by acting out, then looked sideways at David, pleasantly surprised to see him looking almost as exhausted as she felt. Don’t get her wrong; it’s not that she wanted her friend to be miserable, it’s just that he had this incredibly frustrating ability to remain the happiest, most chipper person on the planet in the face of the most infuriating circumstances. Sometimes it made Gwen feel insane, like she was the only one aware of what was going on in the camp.

Some of that relief faded, however, when David rested his forehead in his hands and mumbled, “How is it only lunchtime?”, with a weariness she’d never heard from him in her life. 

Frowning, she tilted her head down, trying to catch his attention. “What’s up with you?” She asks, and she doesn’t think it sounds angry until David is whipping his head up, plastering a - somewhat unnerving - smile across his face.

“Sorry, Gwen! Nothing’s wrong, today just seems to be a bit of a slower day today, is all. At least that means more time for fun activities, though!”.

She realises it’s meant to be reassuring, but honestly it’s downright freaky watching David put a personality on like a coat. 

“Are you okay, David?” She presses, voice slightly softer than before. 

“Of course I am, Gwen! Why wouldn’t I be? The sun is out, the birds are singing and I’m here at Camp-”

“Don’t bullshit me, David.” She says, her gut feeling from the morning coming back full force. “What is it? Was it Campbell? Are we getting more budget cuts? Or was there a complaint? Are we getting a surprise inspection, or - oh god, is our pay going down?” She asks, thoughts going a mile a minute about what could possibly have made David look so defeated a few moments ago.

“What? Gwen - no, it’s nothing like that.” David replies, a little startled. He sighs, and then he looks tired again. He’s still smiling, but it's smaller and a little awkward, and it’s so not David but somehow more David than Gwen thinks she’s ever seen him. “I’m just a little under the weather, that’s all.” He finishes, quietly, like he’s scared the campers might hear. Which - fair, Gwen can only imagine what those little assholes would do if they sensed weakness.

“Under the weather how?” She asks, sceptical.

He frowns, but seems to weigh his options and decide being honest is a better choice than keeping quiet, because he answers all the same. “A headache. And maybe a minor fever, some dizziness. I’m mostly just tired, so it’s nothing a little rest won’t fix. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Looking at him now, like, really looking, Gwen realises he’s pale and a little shaky; there’s bags under his eyes and a slight flush on the heights of his cheeks like he’s been rushing around, which he has, but she suspects it has more to do with fever than it does managing the kids. Part of her wants to reach out and press her hand to her forehead, but she gets the feeling David wouldn’t appreciate that, especially not in front of all of the children because god forbid he shows them that sometimes he isn’t having the time of his life, enjoying camp every step of the way. God forbid they see him as human, and not a punching bag only there for entertainment. 

“You know, I can handle the kids for an hour or two if you want a power nap? I’ll get the coloured paper and markers out and make up some bullshit about writing a letter to their future selves or something.” She offers, and the fact that David actually considers it for a second proves to her that he’s feeling worse than he lets on. Ultimately, though, he shakes his head. 

“No, it wouldn’t be fair to leave you to run camp by yourself. Besides, we’re supposed to be doing plant identification today, and I can’t deprive the kids of a valuable skill like that just because I’m a little poorly. I’ll be fine.” He says, decisively, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as Gwen.

Before she can argue the point further, the sound of the kids talking escalates to a volume that’s too much to tolerate as they get restless, dessert finished and their boredom rising. Standing, she shouts over the racket, “Everyone look at me! Shut up for a minute, would you?”. It takes a moment, but they do quieten and look in her direction, so she takes the win. “In a moment we’re going to head outside for our afternoon activity, okay, so everyone go and put your plates on the hatch for Quartermaster and then line up at the door.”

Predictably, there is no neat, single-file line like Gwen had asked, and instead a crowd of pushing and shoving by the mess hall doors. Shaking her head, Gwen lets them out, allowing David to start explaining what they’d be doing. In all honesty, Gwen tunes this part out, knowing vaguely that each group would have a plant identification book and a list of plants to find. Instead, she uses this time to study David, who’s energy seems to be waning quicker now that he’s on his feet. Max is giving David some kind of shit, and his plastered-on smile is faltering ever so slightly, the longer Max refuses to stop. 

Sighing, she shoots Max a look and he backs off, for now, but he doesn’t seem very deterred. David finishes up his explanation and sends the kids off in groups of four, instructing them not to go out of his and Gwen’s sight. A few moments pass in silence as they observe the kids, enjoying the peace for the first time that day. Around them, the kids seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves - the task gives them just enough freedom that they’re satisfied, goofing off as they look at plants half-heartedly and enjoy the sun, with the added bonus of letting Gwen and David take a backseat for a little while. 

The kids have quite a long time to find all of the plants on the list; they know their campers well enough to know that the work-to-messing-around ratio will not be equal, so Gwen takes a seat on one of the nearby picnic benches. She expects David to follow her lead and sit down too, and she hopes he does because he wasn’t looking too hot during his instructions earlier, but he remains standing. The feeling in her gut grows stronger, but she forces it down. She’s getting worked up over nothing, David said it himself, he’s just a little under the weather. David is a grown man; if he feels like he needs to sit down, he’ll sit down. 

Another fifteen minutes pass and the feeling only grows. She glances at her co-councillor again, but she can’t see his face from the angle of the bench. Before she can think better of it she’s standing and walking over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder with the intention of turning him towards her. However, the moment her hand touches his shoulder, her stomach drops. He’s so warm she can feel it through his shirt and, although they are standing in the warmth of the sun, that’s all they’re doing, there’s no reason he should be that warm. It’s a suffocating, dry kind of warmth too, one that makes her throat tighten and she steps round him, blocking the camper’s view if they were to look over. 

His eyes are cloudy and slightly unfocused, and he’s paler than he has been all day, swaying just slightly where he stands. His breathing is slightly wonky, like he can’t quite figure out a comfortable pattern and it takes him a while to track his gaze over to meet hers, and he shakes his head minutely, almost imperceptibly. Abruptly, she makes a decision. 

Whirling around to face the section of clearing that the campers are exploring, she raises her voice loud enough for all of them to hear. “Okay, David and I need to head inside to take care of some paperwork, so Quartermaster is going to take over for a little while. Do not give him any shit or I swear to god there will be hell to pay, understood?” She asks, waiting for nods before she’s satisfied. She turns back to face David, unsure if moving is a good idea right now given how pale he is. “Can you make it to our cabin?” She asks, quietly.

Something in David seems to click, and he tries to gather himself, swallowing hard. “Sorry, Gwen, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry, or- or bother the Quartermaster, I’m-”

“David I swear do not even try it. You look like you’re about the pass out.” She hisses, reaching her limit. “Now can you make it to our cabin or not?”

Chastised, David looks down, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Gwen takes a deep breath, nodding as well. “I need you to stay here with the kids while I go and grab Quartermaster, can you do that?”

David nods again, but doesn’t protest when she leads him to the bench and sits him down. “Do not move.” She says sternly, then turns on her heel and rushes back to the mess hall, grabbing Quartermaster and dragging him out to the clearing, explaining on the way. He agrees in the weird, creepy way of his, and she has no doubt the campers will end up part of some crazy wilderness ritual, but she trusts him with the campers safety and that's enough for now. 

As they arrive at the activity spot, it’s just in time to see Max sauntering over to David, a glint in his eye that she doesn’t like. “Max!” She calls, intercepting him only a few feet away from the bench. “What do you need?”

Max regards her curiously, and she feels vaguely like prey. “What I need is to talk to David.” He says, and Gwen knows deep down that he has realised what’s going on.

She has two options now: lie and bullshit her way out of this, or tell the truth and hope Max doesn’t abuse the knowledge. 

Placing her hands on both of Max’s shoulders, she drops down to one knee, putting her at his level. “Look, Max, you and I both know why you can’t do that.” Max’s face lights up at the confirmation, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Gwen continues on, barrelling over him. “Max, listen to me, I need to get David inside, okay, I think this could be serious. I need to get him inside, and check his fever and maybe even take him to a hospital,” She says, looking into his eyes to try and drive her point home. She really isn’t sure if it will warrant a hospital trip, or even come close, but she thinks maybe that’s what Max needs to hear to back off a bit. “If I check him over, and he’s okay, I promise you that tomorrow you can have your fun with him, but you have to let me make sure he’s good first, okay?”

Max is silent for a second, eyes darting from Gwen to where David is slumped over, face in his hands now that Quartermaster is here and someone is keeping an eye on the campers. There is a solid ten seconds where Gwen thinks she’s made the wrong choice, that Max is going to grin and jump on the opportunity to trash the camp and make today even worse for David, but then he deflates and nods. “Fine. I’ll keep these assholes in check. But as soon as he’s feeling better there will be no mercy. So watch out.” He says, but Gwen has known Max long enough to know he’s concerned. Another beat of silence passes and then Max follows up quietly, “Do you…need help getting him inside?”.

A spark of surprise hits Gwen’s chest, alongside a feeling she thinks might be pride. She ruffles Max’s hair and he scowls, swatting at her hands before shoving his own hands back into his sweater pockets. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him handled. You focus on finding those plants, okay?” She smiles at him, and Max pulls a face in return. 

“Ew, gross. I wasn’t worried.” He insists, and Gwen doesn’t argue it, just lets him walk back to his group.

Gwen forces herself to take some more deep breaths before she turns around, trying not to let her heart beat too fast when she finds David, arms braced on his knees and his head in his hands, eyes closed and breathing shakily. 

“David?” She asks softly, touching his shoulder. 

He lifts his head, blinking blearily at her, squinting in the sunlight. He doesn’t say anything.

“You ready to get inside?”

He nods shakily, standing up and immediately stumbling, but Gwen catches him quickly enough. Luckily, Quartermaster seems to have distracted the kids with some kind of dramatic retelling of a battle he had with some squirrels, and Gwen can’t quite tell if it’s made up or not, but it doesn’t matter because it means they don’t have an audience right now. (Except Max, and Gwen can feel his worried eyes tracking them, but she’ll have to deal with that later, because right now David needs to be inside and lying down, out of the heat of the sun and away from the stress of the children.)

She loops his arm around her shoulders, hooking her own around his waist and they begin to slowly walk - or stumble, in David’s case - back to the councillor’s cabin. What should have been a two minute journey becomes a five minute one, and the whole way Gwen can only think about how it got so bad so quickly. David is silent for the entirety of it, eyes closed and trusting Gwen to keep them on track. They’re barely ten feet from the door to the cabin when David finally speaks.

“Gwen, I think I’m going to pass out.” He chokes out, and she turns to find his face so pale he’s practically grey. 

“Shit!” She hisses, and she effectively drags him the rest of the way shoving the doors open, desperate to get him to his bed but he’s dropping like a stone the moment they’re inside, and it’s all she can do to stop his head from slamming down. His knees connect roughly with the wooden floors and she winces, knowing it’ll probably bruise, but there’s bigger things to worry about at that moment. 

Carefully, she lowers him to the ground and props his feet up on a nearby trunk, racking her brain desperately trying to recall her first aid training. She settles on checking his airways and, once satisfied, moves to the bathroom to grab their thermometer. It’s clear enough that he has a fever, but she needs to know what she’s dealing with and now is as good a time as any to check. 

The thermometer is an old thing, scuffed and peeling but it works and so she gently pushes it into his ear, waiting for it to beep. 103.1ºF. She sucks in a breath through her teeth. Not good.

Wasting no time, she gathers a washcloth and wets it with cold water, filling a glass at the same time. There’s a standing fan in the corner of their cabin which she manoeuvres to point at David and turns onto the lowest setting, trying not to shock his body too much, then places the washcloth on his forehead. 

Slowly, David stirs, eyes blinking open, cloudy and confused but he’s awake and a huge weight lifts off of her shoulders.

“David?”

“...Gwen? What- why am I on the floor?”

A flash of irritation hits her. “Because you’re an asshole who can’t wait two seconds to lay down in his bed and insists instead on passing out on the floor next to it.” She scowls, but the irritation is ebbing just quickly as it peaked, being replaced by concern.

“I passed out?” He asked, voice still slightly muddy from sleep.

“Yeah,” She sighs. “You did. And your fever is really high, as well. You scared me.” She admits, quietly.

David’s face crumples with guilt, and he tries to sit up but Gwen firmly pushes him back down. “Gwen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know you didn’t David,” Gwen placates. “It’s not your fault, it's just a sucky situation. You should have said something sooner, though, David. You could have taken a break, or even taken the rest of the day off and we could’ve avoided all of this. I’d rather have to handle those kids by myself any day of the week than for you to get hurt.”

David nods, wincing. “I know. You’re right, I should have said something I just - I just have some things to work on.” He replies, quiet and raw. “But that shouldn’t affect you, I’m sorry.”

They look at each other for a moment longer before Gwen smiles, softly. “Hey, what are CBFLs for?” She asks, nudging his shoulder, and David smiles back, touched. “And besides,” she continues. “You deal with enough of my shit, only fair I deal with some of yours. Now, think you can handle getting up and into bed? You need proper rest and I’m not letting you do it on the floor.”

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling a bit better now.” David says.

Gwen snorts, holding out a hand to help him up. “Tell me that again when you’re upright.”

As expected, David immediately pales again the moment he’s stood, but he smiles shakily and manages to get to his bed fine, so Gwen doesn’t worry too much. Once he’s sitting with his back against his pillows, she hands him the glass of water and grabs some pills from her own bedside table. Dutifully, he downs them, and then lays down, damp cloth back on his forehead. It’s mid-afternoon and still light out, but Gwen just draws the curtains and turns off the light, leaving the bathroom light on with the door cracked to allow her to see without aggravating David’s head too much. 

Gwen pulls her armchair over to be near David’s bed, turning on Bob Ross with the volume almost muted, just loud enough for the man’s soothing voice to reach them. Beside her, David’s eyes are closed and his eyebrows pinched, but there’s a small smile on his face and he looks comfortable enough. For the first time all day, the feeling in her gut subsides, appeased, and she lets herself relax as well.

Two hours later, Gwen jolts awake, eyes flying around the room before settling on David, still fast asleep where she’d left him. Bob Ross is still playing idly, and she grabs the remote to turn it off. As quietly as she can, Gwen finds the thermometer and takes David’s temperature again, breathing out slowly when it reads 100.5ºF. Still a fever, but lower. Despite herself, she runs her hand through David’s bedhead of red hair, shaking her head and then sitting back down.

She has just settled back in her chair when there’s a quiet knock at the door. Opening it reveals Max, shuffling awkwardly. “He’s okay.” Gwen smiles softly, deciding to cut the kid some slack, knowing Max isn’t going to outright ask about David.

“Pshh, I don’t care. I just came to tell you Quartermaster is doing a shit job. He taught us how to fight a deer and now he’s making us wash the outside of our cabins.” He complains, but Gwen can see a bit of relief on his face. 

“Hm, not a bad idea. Maybe I need to get him to plan a couple of our activities next week. The cabin thing, not the deer thing.” She clarifies, seeing Max’s face. “Maybe tomorrow you can complain to David yourself.”

Max nods, satisfied with the knowledge that David isn’t too ill, and Gwen knew that was what he’d been waiting to hear. “Yeah, I will. Uh, but I should get back before Quartermaster realises I’m gone. He’s way less of a pushover than you and David.” 

Gwen rolls her eyes, but waves him off. “See you tomorrow, Max.”

“Night, Gwen.” 

She closes the door, still smiling softly. 

Sometimes, the kids were okay.

[kingarthurflourofficial]

july books

starter villain 3.5/5 (i do love! a john scalzi. his books feel so much like coming home even when i'm not hugely intrigued by the premise - he's an author you can trust to have a satisfying if weird ending)

cyber mage DNF (i love saad z hossain's other books - just think his style of writing is a little better suited to his novellas)

kundo wakes up 3.5/5 (see above! i love the world of his novellas a LOT and i think this was my fave yet.)

the parliament 3/5 (great concept! some really good moments! just didn't really click with me and i didn't like the main couple or think they made a good pairing)

hitchhikers guide to the galaxy 3.5/5 (by contrast, much more fun a re-read of this vs castle in the air - i felt a lot more competent at picking up on the nuance and satire vs when i read This at fifteen lol)

running close to the wind 4.5/5 (WHAT A FUN BOOK! only quibble was how much it felt like fanfiction like - in a fun way for sure! just very much like we were reading a couple we already knew the framework for so the author felt comfortable jumping right into the action and i could have used a little more time with worldbuilding)

the duke at hazard 5/5 (AHHHHHHHHHHHH NEW KJC AHHHH AND IT'S A GORGEOUS HOMAGE TO HEYER'S THE FOUNDLING! what a soft and enfolding work it is it's only been a couple weeks since i read it and already i want to be back in that world!)

the house of the red balconies 5/5 (talking of soft and comforting works! this was my introduction to aj demas and please know i immediately stayed up until four am reading three more of her books.)

sword dance 4/5 (loveeee a secret agent using his skills as a dancer to go undercover! love a disabled soldier loving them and seeing them as a whole person and vice versa!)

saffron alley 5/5 (OUGHHHHH now this is a MASTERCLASS in how you do miscommunication. not a plot device not a gimmick but something showing characters' inner lives and struggles and growth!)

strong wine 4/5 (not enough of the Boukos family but otherwise lives up to the promise of the first two)

kill the farmboy DNF (has the AUDACIty to say it's an homage to terry pratchett. i wouldn't let terry pratchett piss within a hundred yards of this book because it would be too good for it.)

soulless 3/5 (doesn't take itself too seriously! if it had been a little more queer i think i would have like it more and as it was the sexy scenes weren't too awful for a straight couple, but then i'm a sucker for a werewolf)

a botanical daughter 2/5 (INFURIATING. how dare it have a gorgeous premise of two insane gay victorian men creating themselves a daughter from taxidermy and mushrooms and fail at the premise so badly i WANTED the daughter to go feral and murder them all)

prospects 3/5 (i'm not trying to be rude and i had a pretty good time reading this but my gods and little fishes there was SO. much. baseball. {shocking in this sports novel about baseball})

evenings and weekends 2/5 (maybe i am just. very much not the target audience for this kind of book but i hateeeeee books were people are just wandering around lying to each other and themselves and generally being dicks. like what's the point! also not helped by my hating london and the hottest days of summer which is arguably the main character here.)

box hill 4.5/5 (okay listen. listen. i know everyone and their aunt has to have perfect morals these days and write the stoplight system into all their fanfiction they write for fun and therefore even moreso for published works but DAMN. i loved this book! it made me feel FERAL like! is it a portrayal of a healthy relationship? absolutely not. sustainable? no way. does it seep into your bones with a kind of aching longing for something formless and deep and heavy? Y E S. it does exactly what it sets out to do and i simultaneously want to force everyone i know to read it and also hug it to myself and snarl when people try lest they read it the wrong way.)

[cherisheye]

☆ first semester of uni - update☆

i meant to make this post a month ago but i ended getting caught up in other things, but! now that my second term of uni has started it made sense to write a review of this past semester, if only for records sake :)

☆ i ended up very pleasantly surprised with how well i did this semester. i was very worried at the start of the term, because i realized that i had such a weaker foundation on many subjects compared to my classmates - but, not only did i manage to get past that, i also did incredibly well on my classes! i'm so proud of myself for that, all my efforts paid off! of course, i still have trouble with many things, but i hope to tackle those in this new semester

☆ if there's one thing i hope to improve, though, is just to plan and schedule things better, more so i can avoid cramming and burning out. i also hope i can do more social things, if possible. i spent 90% of my time so focused on writing and studying i barely hung out with anyone except for my roommate :')

goals for this next semester:

☆ organize my studies in some sort of method or routine (god. I'll need it *side-eyes the syllabus with a million trillion exams*)

☆ try to get closer to the few friends i have made so far, talk more about my personal life rather than just studies with them, hang out with them outside of classes

☆ put more effort into grasping physics

☆ begin to look into research projects and maybe talk to a few professors, network

☆ take on artistic projects that are more low-stakes (no deadline is a start)

thoughts on the classes i've had so far below the read more:

☆ calculus i - surprisingly, i actually rather enjoyed this class. my professor was amazing and he did a great job of teaching. that is not to say it was easy. god no. but i think i actually learned a lot, and it did make me excited about calculus! - final grade: 100% (thank god for extra credit)

☆ linear algebra for chemistry - i did not enjoy this class. i struggled hard with this subject, but it was manageable, and i even liked it at times. the problem was that the professor just did not click with me. i had to decipher everything he taught after class, and unfortunately, i lacked a lot of basic knowledge that would've helped. i had to spend so much time filling in the gaps.by far the class i struggled the most in, but i can say that i got through it :') - final grade: 92%

☆ general chemistry i - i loved the subject, unfortunately the classes were a bit hard to get through (boring). i struggled at times but it was that satisfying sort of struggle you know? where you feel like you're learning something? yeah. the professor was an absolute sweetheart though and i loved hearing about his research project - final grade: 99%

☆ basic chemistry - nothing much to say about it, it was an online class - i kept up with it until halfway through the semester, then i gave up. but i took the exams and did well anyway. my chemistry technical course served me well here gdjtdstursu - final grade: 96%

☆ general chemistry lab i - i really loved this class. i loved going to the lab and thought the experiments they picked were great. i faltered a little with some lab reports but i guess i have to get more practice writing them. ps.: the TAs were incredible - final grade: 93%

☆ fundamentals of experimental chemistry lab - i liked this lab a little less. it was still enjoyable, but i had way more trouble with the lab reports in this class :') - final grade: 81%

☆ physics lab - i did not like this class at all. all the experiments were boring at best and infuriating at worst. the lab reports were so intricate it was insane. the only part i enjoyed was that the professor actually explained the concepts pretty well (even i got it even if i have trouble with physics) and i got to group with my friends - final grade: 86%

[atrashcanraccoon]

OHHHHKAY Y'ALL

here's my little iwaoi fic thing that's been rotting in my drafts and it's high time i throw it into the depths of the internet abyss so here goes nothing

for context, this story was inspired by this one text convo i had w one of my best friends about confessing to my crush. i didn't go ahead w the idea irl bc it turned out that he was an asshole but this fic was born out of it so yeah.

all mistakes are mine alone.

happy reading!

-d

p.s. (might put it up on ao3 if i'm able to get all the parts out)

(⁠/⁠¯⁠◡⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠◡⁠)⁠/⁠¯⁠ ⁠~⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Iwaizumi Hajime would be the first person to admit that he was an absolute goner for old-school romance. Unlike his best friend who is completely content with texting about schedules or dates or scheduled dates (ugh), Hajime knows in his heart that he'd rather give handwritten letters and write poetry (even though he's not very good at it) for the person that he likes.

Luck (or ill-luck, depending on how you see it) has it that the person he likes (likes? loves?) just so happens to be the aforementioned best friend, Oikawa Tooru.

Now, the thing is.

The thing is, if you’d ask Hajime how long he’d been pining after Oikawa, he’d give you a vague answer, mostly because he actually couldn’t tell you for sure. Ever since he met Oikawa as a child, Hajime’s been prone to head and heart aches. Then again, he’s always known that Oikawa is just different for him. Others might have had friends that they’d drop for anything, but for Hajime, Oikawa was the one truth that he’s always tried to protect and support.

There is his simple truth. Iwaizumi Hajime loves Oikawa Tooru.

×

Lunch was usually a very chaotic affair for the third-years of the volleyball team.

Oikawa would come sauntering in after half of the recess is over because “you can’t make me disappoint my fans who love me and are waiting to catch a glimpse of the great Oikawa-sama~”; Mattsun and Makki have their weird creepy perverted flirting thing that they do that puts off everyone’s appetites on the better days; and Hajime is just trying to eat his damn food like the only sane person around (at this point, he’s plenty sure that he’s the only normal guy in his admittedly small friend group).

Lately, though, Hajime has been plagued by bouts of insanity, or so it seems because he can’t see any other reason why he feels like boiling the captain of the Seijoh basketball team alive. Although, Hajime thought, it might have something to do with how the basketball bastard keeps staring at my Tooru- I just hope I don’t call him Tooru to his face again-

The last time that happened, Hajime had considered leaving Aoba Johsai for Shiratorizawa, never mind how infuriating he found Ushiwaka to be. He loved Tooru, obviously, but even that love didn’t stop him from being annoyed with all the trilling that Oikawa did- “Tooru, huh? My, my, Iwa-chan, how awfully bold!”

In all honesty though? Hajime just knows that if he had to fight the goddamn basketball bastard, namely one Handa Chikao for Oikawa’s hand, ridiculous as it sounds, he would do it with no hesitation.

This sort of vindictive streak was almost non-existent in Hajime, only spiking up when he felt that all of Oikawa’s time was being monopolised by his fangirls and occasional fanboys. He didn’t mind the usual throes of people, god knows he gets how they feel, but when there are just way too many of them circling Oikawa like pests, Hajime can’t help but feel jealous and pissed off (not that he’d ever tell Oikawa about it).

Then happened the Nice Kill Incident™ (as dubbed by Mattsun&Makki).

It was a beautiful afternoon and Oikawa was being accosted by his usual set of fans who were busy offering him cookies and cutesy letters and some daring ones who shyly gave him confession letters. Hajime didn’t pay them any heed; he’s seen this same scene for three years now, he's figured out not to give any shits.

He walked ahead and called out to Oikawa, without turning back, “When you’re done with whatever you’re doing, come and have your lunch- skip it and I'll punch you.”

He pointedly ignored Oikawa’s indignant squawk.

When Hajime was sure that Oikawa had gone back to humouring the crowd, he kept sneaking glances at the other, lips twitching into a smile. He could feel the smile slip off his fwce when he caught sight of the basketball team captain making a beeline towards Oikawa.

The same bastard who had the nerve to insult volleyball as a game, Hajime’s team and Tooru’s superior capabilities all in one breath last month. Call him prejudiced, but Hajime knows that it’s sort of unbelievable that someone could have this huge of a whiplash— shitting on Tooru’s brilliance and then being completely besotted by him in seven goddamn days.

If Hajime was a lesser man, he would’ve given in to his urges and decked that little bitch across his smug face— okay what the fuck Hajime calm down this is not you— but he is, unfortunately, a decent human being and he had to desist. At that moment, he noticed Oikawa’s tired sigh and resolved to do something.

Tooru took one look at Handa Chikao coming his way and sighed tiredly.

Dear God, not today— I neither have the patience of Iwa-chan nor enough sleep and if he insists on being an asshole, I might just serve a volleyball at his face.

“Handa-san, it’s a rare sight seeing you head my way without any insults at the ready.”

The creepy smirk presented that close to his face was tempting Tooru to wring Handa-san’s neck, but alas, Tooru wasn’t willing to damage his reputation as a model student, so there goes that idea.

“Well, Tooru-kun, why would I-”

Yeah, that was it. Five words in and Tooru zoned out, occasionally hearing parts of the other boy’s monologue. Normally, this method works but somehow, Handa-san kept taking small steps closer to Tooru and it bugged him to no end.

For the love of God, someone serve a volleyball at him, he’s making me uncomfortable, hell, I’ll do it mys—

The next thing Tooru saw was Handa-san crouched on the ground holding his head, a stray volleyball to his side and one extremely irritated Iwa-chan who looked like he could pound someone into pulp that very second.

Very hot. Tooru approves.

Tooru covered up a relieved smile as he felt Iwa-chan place an anchoring hand on the small of his back. Iwa-chan’s eyes seemed to ask, are you fine?

Yes, always, when I’m with you.

Handa-san’s voice interrupted their telepathy and Tooru couldn’t swallow the irked tsk that made itself known.

"If you'll excuse me now, Handa-san, I should be heading to class," said Tooru, his eyes flashing barely hidden annoyance, "Come on, Iwa-chan, we're getting late."

As they walked through the hallways, Tooru's eyes caught Hajime's and both of them let out a relieved chuckle.

"You know, I wasn't sure if I wanted to back off or break his face."

"Never mind that now, what's done is done."

"Sooo Iwa-chan- what was it with the volleyball? I know you're a brute but I didn't think it extended to Handa-san as well."

"Quit talking shit, Shittykawa-"

"Were you jealous? Is that what it was about? Huuuuuuh??? Wait- Iwa-chaaan- why are you running away?"

Remember when Hajime said he's in love with Tooru?

Yeah.

It's at times like this he wishes he could forget that fact and fling Oikawa into the sun and hope for the best.

That embarrassing bastard (he was right).

ᕦ⁠[⁠ ⁠◑⁠ ⁠□⁠ ⁠◑⁠ ⁠]⁠ᕤ

end of part 1

[thattimdrakeguy]

Every time i see someone try to defend James Gunn, they just repeat what he said while acting like it's genius. And it reminds me of apes eating their own shit.

like thanks, luv, really fucking putting in the man power to add to the conversation

couldn't give less of a shit people might like it, 'cause have you seen the dc fandom? they'll eat anything as long as it vaguely looks like something they may or may not like, or at least something in the peripheral of what they like

and it isn't a crime to like stuff, but it also isn't a crime to not like stuff either, honey bunch

but fucking hell. over a thousand likes on tweets that are saying absolutely nothing of merit. and i am so confused

No shit he's only going to be saying shit people want to hear.

And I'm some Snyder Cult bastard, I don't think I liked any Snyder DC movie all the way. Most of them were severely lacking.

but so many of james gunn's decisions are still wack as fuck

like how many of zack snyder's decisions are wack as fuck

James Gunn's skipping how many robins? and i know, he says he'll have all of them, but fucking hell that's so ridiculous if this universe is supposed to last awhile. all those stories that you can take inspiration from, critically adored stories that have immense cinematic potential

and james gunn's bright idea IS TO MAKE A BASTARDIZED ADAPTATION OF A STORY THAT ONLY WORKED BECAUSE OF VERY VERY SPECIFIC SITUATIONS THAT HE IS PURPOSELY NOT GONNA HAVE

that is one of the stupidest things i've ever heard in my life. the fact i haven't seen more people say that sounds ridiculous is baffling me. because while i can sometimes get why people wouldn't sometimes with many other things i say, i cannot with this. it's like he's TRYING to make a shitty batman movie. or at least an insanely disappointing one that let go of the gold he had literally right in front of him

i'm not asking for a word by word, panel by panel recreation of a story. JUST USE THE OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY EXISTING FANTASTIC WORK INSTEAD OF COMPLETELY MISUNDERSTANDING WHY AN okay at best STORY WORKED

and he's going to have all these random movies, but not include characters that would be important to the greater DC world?

and he got the guy that directed a flash parody and pretended it was a serious movie to do this batman movie? when he made batman look like the Dude from Big Lewbowski and talk in a way that didn't even resemble Batman? and made all of his problems seem like a joke?

also while they're making sequels the critically acclaimed Batman movie, that people are more likely to look more forward to, because even though i didn't care for the movie, it at least looks like some cinematic effort was put into it enough to be an enjoyable watch that doesn't make you question your life choices because of how stupid it is. it's a lacking movie to me, but at least i feel like the people involved tried in a way that didn't feel like a child writing a fan fiction

'cept maybe a teenager, with kurt cobain inspired batman

i don't have to take a side to decide shit is wack as fuck

many thinks, are incredibly wack

i am a human being with a brain, i can look at things and figure out that shit looks like it's going to be total garbage, and will at best only be a good movie if you know jack shit or have no standards

just watch and talk about shit like human beings. i don't care if you like it or not, because you know what saying falsified bullshit about a guy you don't know or like, looks like? like you're a fucking maniac

like it

don't like it

but why is it so hard to people act like people? i keep avoiding anything DC related on my recommended trends on twitter, then i have a moment where i hope for the best, and every time, it's just garbage everywhere

it's not difficult to consume things in a world layered with shades of gray.

this black and white bullshit is fucking infuriating and makes it real hard to enjoy anything, when you have an echo chamber of dumbasses clamping down on it on the internet

i'm not even asking people to act like well-mannered gentlemen. that would be boring, and i feel people should be free to express their emotions as long as they aren't hurting anyone

i'm just asking them to think a little harder before they say the dumbest shit imaginable

james gunn is the guy who made one of the main points of guardians 3, that heroes don't kill people. while every appearance of the characters is them killing people, because they deserve to be killed.

like i'm not making a plea about the importance of the death penalty

but giving an obviously highly dangerous person, who has the potential to dismantle the fucking universe at least a smackrel of a chance to get out, is fucking stupid

it's stupid

superman letting lex luthor live, because he's just a man, and hasn't done anything to that extreme, may make that make sense

having batman not kill because he's worried he won't stop killing himself gives us an interest character perspective

giving the villain who still has a chance to be better, a chance to get better, allows that moral to be a thing

but letting the heroic murderers let the guy that killed conceivably BILLIONS AND BILLIONS, UPON BILLIONS OF PEOPLE DIE BECAUSE HE WAS JUST A TICKLE UNPLEASED

IS

STUPID

i'm not trusting that mother fucker to make a whole universe work. when his movies before have only worked, exclusively because they were allowed to be their own things in the corner of a universe, where they hardly have any meaning to the rest of the world, besides a relation to the big stories big bad

he is a good film maker. i like most of his movies

but fucking hell. it's not insanity to insist the guy who has shown he makes bad decisions so far, may be making bad decisions. even if in the end the decisions may not be AWFUL

it doesn't mean he's doing a good job in the slightest

i'll give the fact he isn't bringing back the whole justice league a break, because we just had a justice league and maybe time will be good

but his other decisions make him look like a moron to me

[11lights]

August 18th, 2023

0546L

Temp 87°

Saddlebunch Keys, FL

Another regular time start to writing this. I've been waking up at a normal time which means I've been going to work at a normal time which in turn means that I have to write this on my way to work when I'm driving. I don't really mind because it's only me in the car and my cousin doesn't have the potential of hearing me sound like a psychopath talking to myself. I woke up today thinking about the moon getting smaller and disappearing in the sky. Don't know why but that's what I thought of. I was also sore as shit in my neck and trap right trap area. I really have to replace the control arm on this truck, it is squeaking all over the place. I can definitely tell by my sporadic train of thought that I am still very tired. This is day three of the fast and I don't feel that superpower energy that people talk about. I just feel like a light focus in one direction, which I guess is good for me since I tend to overthink all of the time. Yesterday my lieutenant commander asked me if I could cancel my leave so I could start training on ground control. He was very upset with me and tried his best to explain the situation of the facility and my training and why would be better for me to cancel my leave and just work. I find it infuriating. Because now in his eyes I am the bad guy, I'm the sailor who isn't for the mission, I'm not willing to do what it takes. Which is bullshit! It is insane that someone who makes double what I do, has every weekend and holiday off, and can take leave whenever they desire. The one who sets the policy for our division, whose own policy states that no one can train if they have leave and will refuse to budge against that. But also put us on 6 days of work one day off a week. That guy is upset with me because I wanted to take a leave. I literally promised him in May that I would not take leave for June, July and August but I told him then that I am planning to take leave in September for my best friend's visit and my cousin's birthday. So stupid. Had me attend a meeting to try to convince me after I was relieved after work which made me late and flustered on my way to go fly.

Enough of that. Let's talk about the flying though. Earlier in the day yesterday I talked to Barbara about my uncomfortableness with my one instructor bragging about breaking or bending the rules and his blatant disregard for safety. I mean my man was literally skipping checklists that were made to keep us safe while I'm in the beginning of training. So I told her that I did not want to fly with him anymore. At least while I'm still learning the basics and she understood and I flew with kai instead. We practice some maneuvers. I told him about my situation and then we got into the pattern. I absolutely hate the fact that I can't land. It is infuriating because that's like the one thing a pilot should know. I understand that I'm brand new to flying and it's not expected, but also I wish you came naturally so I didn't feel discouraged like I do right now. It feels like I might never get it and I might not be cut out to land, which could potentially mean that I'm not cut out to be a pilot and I hate that thought. Whenever I turn final and I'm like in the last 500 feet of descending my brain just goes scattered and I can't think or speak and I just mess it up. It's funny how I can be carefree and positive about everything else in life, but the one thing that genuinely matters to me I'm just beating myself up about. And I know I shouldn't. I know I should zoom out and understand that I'm new and all of this is new and I am going there after work and in the middle of a fast and I'm still learning. I'm less than 5 hours in, but it does feel little disappointing to be so lost in the sauce on landing. All right. Well I'm just pulling into work so I got to get a little brief. He's the third day of the fast and I feel good, not feeling any major fatigue or difference. I haven't gotten the extreme hunger pangs. I know tomorrow is going to be the hardest day but so far so good. The hardest part is when there's nothing to do and I'm bored because that's when I want to eat. When I'm just sitting at home and I have no concrete plan to do anything that's when I think of how long it's been and how long it'll take to finish this. For some reason I'm not really motivated by the numbers on the scale, but more or less the mental challenge that I need to go through as if it's some sort of penance for letting myself devolve so far. Not just physically but productively and mentally and all that jazz. Okay well before I delve deeper into the negativity. I just parked at work. I have 26 minutes until muster and I have to go change since I started going into work in civilian clothes since that's with the chaplain recommended and it does feel fucking awesome for some reason. I hope I didn't forget anything.

[hyuckshaze]

zoom shenanigans - l.dh

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ boyfriend!haechan | smut | ‌1.6k+ words ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dom!sub themes, asphyxiation, edging/overstimulation, spitting, slight humiliation, degradation (use of words such as whore, slut etc.), dumbification, slight dacryphylia, salirophilia, dirty talk - basically pure and absolute filth!

AUTHOR’S NOTES ⇾ i couldn’t stop thinking about this throughout the entirety of my online classes today, so i just had to write about it to get it off my chest. i am an absolute slut when it comes to dom!hyuck, so this is just self-indulgence really. enjoy! not proofread so please message if there’s any errors, or anything missing from the warning list! - lex

You don’t quite know how Hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call. 

He’d driven you insane. You’d been sat on his cock since the start of your lesson, for which your teacher, thank God, had decided that cameras did not need to be on. The class only lasted an hour, with you sitting on his lap in his gaming chair because ‘your desk chair just isn’t comfy enough, Y/N’, according to him anyway. You thought your desk chair was perfectly comfy, but he insisted. 60 minutes doesn’t seem all that long in the grand scheme of things, but with a boyfriend as evil as Donghyuck, of course he knew just how to make that hour feel like an eternity, teasing you relentlessly throughout. His lips brushing against your ear as you tried your hardest to complete the set work, whispering unspeakable promises into your ear and sending dark shivers down your spine. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew the exact expression that was plastered on his face as his wandering hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching all the spots that he knew would have you squirming in his hold. By far, the most infuriating thing he would do, though, was to snake his hand around your body whenever you had to turn your microphone on, fingers rubbing your clit in circles that had you biting back loud and sensual moans, managing to suppress the noises down to sighs which, as a University student, were not all that uncommon to hear. 

It’s when the time hits 11:50am, exactly 10 minutes before the end of the lesson (you know because you began checking it, what seemed like, every few seconds, sensing his growing impatience), that his self-control evaporates. With a raspy grunt, his hand wraps around your neck and he thrusts up into you, hard, fast and rough. You gasp, face contorting in pleasure at the sudden movements which have you crying out and grasping at the desk in front of you in order to stay upright. You whine as his grip on your neck tightens, pulling you back towards his chest in one, swift movement. A yelp escapes your lips, now blindly grabbing at the armrests on either side of the chair in order to stop your legs from giving out. Not that you’d go anywhere, Hyuck’s rigid grip on you made sure of that. His hot breath against the back of your neck caused goosebumps to form on your exposed skin, a shudder going through your body at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His hand on your neck pushes your jaw backwards, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as he looks down at your flushed face, tears of pleasure collecting at the corners of your wide and innocent eyes, perfect pink lips parted so beautifully, not to mention the dream-worthy sounds escaping them. How could he have ended up with such a perfect little girl? His hand moves for only a split second from your neck, squeezing your cheeks together in order to open your mouth. He spits harshly into your now open mouth, pressing your cheeks shut again afterwards. You let out a sudden and uncontrollable moan at the sound of him doing such a filthy thing, feeling his spit hit your tongue forcefully. You know what he wants. You close your mouth and swallow, his hand creeping back down towards your neck as you show him your empty mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He rasps, giving a tight squeeze to your neck once more.

With your eyes squeezed so tightly shut, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be listening to your Biomedical Sciences lecturer drone on about Haematology and Transfusion. Almost.

“Right, now that’s done, everyone turn your cameras on for this last task. We’re going to be going through the homework assignment that I set for you all last week, don’t think you can get away without speaking either! I’m gonna be asking you all questions about the task.” His words barely register in your mind, your head fuzzy and body shaking at the feeling of your boyfriend rearranging your insides so delectably. After a few moments, his words seem to sink in and your eyes shoot open, urgently whispering Hyuck’s name. There was no way you could turn on your camera, you’d have to lie. I dropped my laptop; my WiFi is lagging; my room is a mess. A thousand ways to excuse yourself ran through your mind, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. You could only focus so much through the feeling of Haechan fucking into you so hard and fast. Your desperate whines of his name are interrupted as he hums into your ear, not slowing his hips or showing any sign of stopping. If anything, it becomes even harder to think at his words.

“We both know that’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you, baby.” He growls into your ear, pounding into you with even more force, rendering you barely capable of thinking, let alone talking. Your walls clench tightly around his hard cock, a string of curses escaping your boyfriend’s pink lips as he grunts loudly at the feeling.

“M-my professor s-said-” You start, barely able to string a sentence together.

“I heard what your professor said, baby. Turn on your camera. Show your entire class how much of a filthy little slut you are for me. Show them how this perfect A* student cums all over my dick, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you? Everyone seeing the perfect little teachers pet coming all over her boyfriends cock during her class? Everyone seeing how fucking dumb you get for my dick?” You bite your lip, holding back a scream. You can’t, however, stop a broken whimper from escaping you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, oh my God!” The hand that isn’t clutching your neck so tightly moves downwards, fingers brushing your clit so delicately.

“Please... Please what, slut?” He spits, tears now leaking down your face, chest shaking as you hold in overwhelmed sobs.

“Please Daddy!” You cry out, mascara beginning to smudge as you clench your eyes shut so tightly. You no longer care about your waiting professor, you no longer care about the entire class, it’s only Haechan. He is all you can feel and think.

“Y/N, we’re waiting on you to turn your camera on...” Your professor presses, but you don’t even hear him. It’s only when your boyfriend stops all of his movement, hand slipping away from your throat, reaching down and reclining his gaming chair into a laying position, that you realise what he wants.

“No, no, no. Please, Hyuckie!” You whine, head spinning at the loss of movement. He’s laying practically flat now, out of view of the camera. You try to move, rolling your hips atop his dick but his fingers dig into your hips hard, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, smirking up at your shaking figure with mirth.

“Go on, baby. Turn on your camera.” He warns, fingers digging even harder into your hips. You send him an exasperated look, to which he gives you the look. You know what that means. ‘Do as I fucking say, or you’ll regret it’. 

Your shaky hands reach over to the laptop, clicking the camera button as you let out an uneven breath. After a few seconds, your face appears on the screen. Your eyes widen. What your boyfriend had failed to inform you, was that your face was flushed and sweaty, mascara smudging your cheeks in obvious tear streaks, a drop of his spit glittering as it sat upon your chin. You wiped your face on your sleeve as soon as you catch sight of yourself, moving forward to pretend to be sorting a non-existing wire behind your screen as you try to make yourself look more presentable. As you do so, you hear his voice whisper.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you called me just then and don’t think you’re getting away with it. ‘Hyuckie’ doesn’t fuck you the way Daddy does.” His low tone causes you to clench around him, taking a deep breath at his teasing words. He scoffs at your silence, squeezing your ass, hard, so that you let out a small whimper. He hums in satisfaction as you plaster an obviously fake smile onto your face before leaning back, clicking on the unmute button for only a moment before abruptly turning it off again, barely having finished your sentence, as Haechan’s rock hard dick twitches inside your sensitive pussy.

“Sorry, Professor. I had tech issues.” 

✩  ✩   ✩

Those last 8 minutes of class felt like an eternity, and your boyfriend made sure of that. You thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it, though. Not one person gave you a funny or disgusted look as you answered the Professor’s questions and kept a small, albeit forced, smile on your face. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted form of pride at your ability to pretend as though nothing was happening as you sat atop of Hyuck’s dick, enduring his endless verbal and physical teasing throughout.

It wasn’t until after the two of you were finished, long after the class had done so, that your boyfriend checked his phone

“Y/N...” You heard him call from the bathroom. You couldn’t find the energy to move, simply humming in acknowledgement at his hesitant-sounding call. He enters the bedroom in all his naked glory, carrying a small, wet cloth in order to clean you up in one hand, his phone in the other. Your eyes trace his naked body, focusing on the smooth, tanned skin. He really was a sight for sore eyes, somebody that you could never get tired of looking at. You’re disrupted from staring at his body when he holds his phone out in front of your face. You reluctantly tear your eyes from his torso, focusing in on the brightly lit screen, squinting slightly to read the text upon it.

“ 

MESSAGES

Jaemin

fucking your gf during her zoom class, nice one bro. though, you might wanna make sure that you actually hang up next time. the whole class was still there, apart from the prof. not that they’re complaining, i saw their faces. they’re gonna be getting off to that for the entirety of lockdown, i swear! 

“

Needless to say, nobody in class called you the Teacher’s Pet anymore.

✩   ✩   ✩ 

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

what happened the first time Wes tried to crack open the Danny is Phantom conspiracy did he like, confront Danny first or was it all behind his back like, maybe hoping ground zero would be lost among the gossip and that Danny wouldn't find out who spilled the beans once everyone knew

I mean it obviously wouldn't work because nobody believed him and the gossip didn't take off very far beyond a few people talking about Wes being kinda weird

I should absolutely write a fic about this.

I am absolutely going to write a fic about this.

I AM RIGHT NOW GOING TO WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS.

----

"Hey Fenton! Fenton!!" Dash came bounding over and threw a meaty arm around his shoulder.

"Jesus Dash! What?!" Danny buckled under the weight (pretended to anyway) as Dash gave him a surprisingly lighthearted punch on the arm.

"You haven't heard?! Wes has this total batshit insane theory, it's hilarious!"

Dash was in a genuine giggle-fit, Danny didn't think he'd ever seen him this merry, he was also starting to suspect he was going to leave this conversation being the butt of the joke somehow. Wait-

"Wes? Who the heck is Wes?" Danny asked, it wasn't like he knew everyone in school, like Dash seemed to.

"He's on the basketball team, you know, tall guy, red hair, threw a sick move at least month's game! You know, WES!"

"I didn't watch that game."

"Oh," said Dash, flatly, "Oh yeah, almost forgot you're a total nerd. Anyway, like I was saying!"

Dash grabbed Danny by the shoulders and nearly lifted him off the floor.

"Wes thinks," he could barely speak through his giggling, he even snorted a few times, "Wes thinks your secretly PHANTOM."

Dash dropped Danny back down as he doubled over laughing.

"Could you imagine?! You! You're not even DEAD!" Dash honest to god slapped his knee in mirth.

Danny went through an incredibly swift array of emotions in the span of about five seconds.

The first was fear, clear and bracing, then came confusion, how did he know? Had he seen something? Then there was hope, Dash didn't believe it, and if DASH didn't believe it, maybe nobody else believed it either. Then relief, he could roll with this, he could TOTALLY roll with this! Dash was right! It was absurd, it was ridiculous, it was hilarious, him being Phantom? What utter nonsense!

Sam and Tucker had been standing by his side at a Dash-safe distance, looking absolutely horrified. Sam looked ready to jump in and lay down a swift defence, but Danny gave a quick little low wave for her to stand down. He got this.

"Oh my god SERIOUSLY?" Danny busted out a slightly hysterical laugh, okay so he wasn't completely over the initial terrified anxiety.

"How could I- I mean what- WHY does he think I'M Phantom?! I mean how does that even work I don't-"

Dash clapped him on the shoulder, this was probably the most contact he'd ever had with him without being physically assaulted.

"I know right?! Like apparently he thinks you look alike? And he's all like 'But I've seen his eyes glow green' and 'they're never in the same roo-hoo-hoom." Dash wheezed and started hacking and coughing.

Danny carefully constructed a look of offence.

"Hey I mean, it's not THAT funny. Why couldn't I be Phantom! I know how to use a Fenton Thermos! Look I even HAVE one right-" he torn open his backpack and pulled one out, making sure to fumble it in a terrific display of fuck-uppery and drop it noisily on the cafeteria floor, he dropped to his knees trying to grab it but knocked it under a table.

A few girls standing nearby who'd been listening in started tittering, one of the guys sitting at the table snorted milk through his nose and Dash was just about on the floor in hysterics.

Even Sam and Tucker covered their mouths in an attempt to look like they were holding in laughter. Tucker muttered to Sam, just loud enough for people around to hear.

"I mean, he's our friend and we love him, but god that was painful to watch. He knows he's terrible at ghost hunting! He's got like, nothing but thumbs."

Danny climbed under the table, grabbed at the thermos and lifted it up as he crawled back out.

"See! See! I have a thermos! I could TOTALLY be Phantom!"

Sam walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's okay bud, I think you'd be a great Phantom." her voice was thick with her usual sarcasm, soaked in pity though it were.

Danny's ears burned in embarrassment, he might have been humiliating himself on purpose, but it was still humiliating, watching everyone laugh at him for being so weak and incompetent. He was grateful to his friends for pushing through their discomfort and keeping up the act, it was still painful, but it came with a wash of pure unadulterated relief.

Nobody believed this Wes guy, nobody thought it could be even remotely possible. People would talk about it for a little while, have a laugh, maybe there would be a few memes and in-jokes, but eventually it would drop off. People would forget all about it and it would be just another notch on the gossip mill belt.

Even if someone DID believe it, they could never admit it for fear of vicious ridicule, for once in his life peer pressure was his friend.

And then Wes walked in.

Once Danny saw him he realised that he did recognise Wes, he'd seen him hanging around Kwan a few times, and chatting with Star, he was also in Danny's english class. That was about as familiar as he got with the guy, they'd never spoken a word to each other.

Wes had a terrifying expression of seething fury ripping across his face. He was glaring at Dash.

"It's NOT. FUNNY."

Dash was completely unable to stand, it was honestly overkill, Danny almost thought he was hamming it up on purpose, but maybe not, his face was turning an alarming shade of red after all.

"Wes don-" Dash gasped. "Don't do this to me man, I can't brea-" Dash was gasping for air, trying desperately to hold down the giggles.

Danny could almost see steam rising as Wes seethed. Then suddenly that furious stare was shooting daggers straight at him. Danny shrank into himself, looking as small and helpless as he possibly could.

"Uh hey Wes, um, I've heard the news." he joked tacking on a nervous laugh for emphasis. "Uh, soooo," he tossed the thermos from hand to hand, nearly dropping it again. "Is this like, just a joke or do you really-?"

Dash continued to wheeze, Kwan was holding him up by the arm, muttering about getting some water to cool off.

Wes strode over until he and Danny were face to face, he was taller by a good couple inches, even more so with Danny making a conscious effort to appear small.

Wes jabbed a sharp finger into his collarbone.

"Don't think I'm fooled by this pathetic act you've got going on, I am ONTO you, Phantom." he spat.

Danny glanced sidelong at the table beside him, silently begging for assistance, they only watched in silence, strained faces trying not to laugh. A glance the other way to his friends, they simply shrugged.

"Um, okaaay," Danny started backing away slowly. "Uh look Wes I am honestly really flattered but, do we really look that alike?" Danny ran a hand through his hair and then pointed up at Wes. "I mean we BOTH kinda have Phantom's haircut."

Sam deadpanned from the sidelines, "Maybe they're BOTH Phantom."

"We should start marketing that haircut." Tucker muttered to himself, tapping something on his tablet. "We could make a fortune, are you any good at hairdressing?"

Sam shot him a look of disgust and did not dignify the question with a response.

"Don't play dumb you two," said Wes, flipping his focus, "You're definitely in on this!"

The entire cafeteria was awash with giggles by this point. Just about everyone had heard about Wes' theory, but were mostly convinced it was some kinda joke. Now? Now they knew Wes was straight up fucking delusional.

He glanced around as people laughed, at him. At HIM.

"It's not funny!" he yelled over the crowed, the tittering increased in volume. Someone across the room yelled-

"Hey if I get the haircut, can I be Phantom too?"

One of the goths stood up on her seat.

"I've GOT the haircut! Mom says it's MY TURN to be the Phantom!"

There was a fresh round of mirthful laughter, some kids wheezing as hard as Dash had been. Another few kids piped up above the cacophony, throwing jokes of their own.

"I've got a soup thermos so I'm Phantom now, sorry sweaty I don't make the rules."

"If I wear a Phantom shirt does that make me Phantom ALL the time or am I only Phantom when I'm wearing it?"

"I have an ass, Phantom has an ass. Conclusion: I am Phantom's ass."

"Tag yourself I'm the thermos."

"DO THE BUTTS MATCH?"

Wes had been trying to scream over the din, infuriated, desperate to find SOMEONE who would listen.

Danny gave him a pat on the back.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, The Guys in White once hunted some guy down because he had white hair, if a government agency can fuck that up then-"

Wes slugged him.

It wasn't a particularly solid punch like Dash's hits, it was quick and precise, Was wasn't a brawny guy, but he was lean and fast and had good aim.

Danny whuffed out a heavy breath as Wes' fist collided with his sternum and he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone in the cafeteria lost their shit, a few people screamed and one table of football jocks all stood up chanting, "FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT. FIGHT."

Tucker ran over to him as Sam stepped up and without hesitation slammed a fist straight into Wes' nose.

The footballers lost their minds, one of the goths stood up on their table screaming "REPRESEEENT!!"

Wes backed up immediately, crying out from the sharp pain blossoming across his face, he'd never been hit before and couldn't pull his thoughts together quick enough to throw a punch back at her, so he was taken by surprise once again as Sam placed a solid roundhouse kick to his stomach.

He had certainly not been expecting that kind of brute strength from her, she had incapacitated him swiftly and effectively, barely having broken a sweat.

One of his teammates hollered over the crowd and came barrelling down on the goth, she dodged without batting an eye and darted nimbly out of the way, giving the guy a quick kick in the pants to throw him off balance as she rocketed for the cafeteria door.

As Wes took a deep breath through his mouth, his nose dripping blood, he realised that Danny and Tucker were gone. The fight had lasted only seconds but Sam had run distraction well enough for the boys to take off without anyone noticing, a glance around showed Tucker supporting Danny about to exit through the cafeteria doors.

The doors opened to an out of breath Mr Lancer on the other side.

"'The Light Fantastic!' WHAT is going on here?!"

Oh they were all so fucked.

[elysianslove]

hehe hello again !!! if you get to it, maybe 45 from hand holding + mattsun? m so in love with how you write him it seriously holds a special place in my heart, thank u loads loads in advance ! <33

hi hi hi!!! still not over what you wrote for me for samu it was so :(( i loved it so much so like thank you genuinely. much needed <3 and yes ofc i’d love to!! hope you like it mwah <3

more soft issei for the dash yay !

45. comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together with matsukawa issei <3

full prompt list!

the most defeated issei has ever felt is not with every loss he’s faced with his team, but neither was it a bad grade stamped on a paper, nor a bad day worsening with every hour. it’s the very moment he had sighed and painfully accepted the fact that he has a crush on you.

it’s infuriating, really, to put a label on it. at first he thought it was basic attraction— he liked your smile and he liked the way the school uniform hugged your figure and the way you twisted your hair between your fingers as your palm cupped your chin in class. it seemed to be just that, physical attraction, because he liked the feel of your body whenever you hugged him and he liked staring at the pictures you posted for a little too long. naturally, his body would react whenever you touched him, whenever you wore something a little special, whenever you made sure your lips were as red as cherries. he could live with that.

however, he could not live with the fact that he now craved to hear your laugh and that you were the one person he looked forward to seeing in the day. he could not live with knowing your smile was the last thing he thought of before bed and your notification was the first he searches for in the morning. his ears perk up at the mention of your name, his heart rate spikes at the sound of your voice. your touch alone is no longer the only thing that reddens his face and twists his tummy. it’s quite literally everything that you do, and it’s exasperating, genuinely.

he knows he’s in deep shit when someone points out a flaw that he could see as nothing else but a virtue of yours. how the hell could he see absolutely nothing wrong with you? nothing!

acceptance was delayed only because he knew there would be no turning back once he had admitted it to himself. it had been a long night of contemplation, of deciding whether he really liked you or he just found you attractive or he happened to enjoy your company or liked the attention you gave him— until he had asked himself a simple question.

would he want to kiss you?

and when he dreamt of your pretty lips on his, he woke up and buried his face in his pillow, screaming in frustration.

having a crush on you meant a lot of things, but most significantly, it meant not being able to sit by your side without feeling every inch of your presence by him. even if his eyes are on the textbook before him, he can still hear every noise you make, from the quietest sighs to the loudest groans of frustration. he can still make out every tiny movement you make, from the shake of your leg and the crack of your knuckles to the bite of your lip. he’s so hyperaware of you it drives him fucking insane.

tapping the pen against his book, he tries to focus on the questions before him, attempting to make proper use of the free period he had instead of leaving all his work to the last minute, as per usual. it’s unfortunate that it just so happened you share that same free period with him. or fortunate. he can’t decide.

“issei,” you gasp out lowly halfway through the class, and he struggles to not lose himself in the way his name sits so perfect on your tongue. instead, he hums, twisting his head to acknowledge you. once you have his attention, you continue and say, “your hands are so big.”

issei’s brows furrow, and he takes a moment to process (while trying not to think about the fact that you had been looking at his hands. why were you looking at his hands? were they not appealing? were they appealing?) before glancing down at his hand, and then at yours. “think yours are just small, doll,” he retorts, and you scoff.

“no, can’t be,” you disagree. the pen in your hand drops as you sigh, fidgeting in your seat till your body’s twisted to face him, one leg lifted and crossed on the chair. “look,” you add, and lift up your hand.

a question mark blooms in his brain. what did— you want him to do, exactly?

at the obvious confusion written across his features, you sigh, fixing him with a faux unimpressed stare, before reaching over to grab at his wrist. his skin burns where your hand touches him, and as you position his hand to lift it up straight, as if he were about to high five you, every single part of it goes numb. even as you let go, the feeling of you is imprinted and issei’s praying to anything holy that will listen that his face isn’t reddening as deep as he thinks it is.

after his hand is up the way you want it, your own reaches out again, and you press your palm against his. your hands are noticeably smaller, fingertips significantly lower than his, meeting just above where the lower lines locating the knuckles on his fingers were. your palm is also generally much smaller, and he thinks about how easily his hand could just make yours disappear so easy if he curled it into a fist.

so fucking cute, holy shit.

he’s going to die. this is how he goes. heart rate spiking to the point of death because his ridiculously cute crush thought comparing hand sizes would be a good idea.

“see?” you say, and issei’s blown away with how unaffected you seem to be. he really doesn’t think he can formulate a proper sentence at the moment. “your hands are big.”

“nah,” he finally manages, and does the unthinkable — before he can think it through properly, his fingers bend, curling in on the gaps between yours, before interlocking your hand with his. he was right: your hand is nearly swallowed by his. “yours are just tiny.”

he wants to say that you’re gawking, but you recover so quick he can barely believe it himself. “your hands are— warm, too,” you point out, fingers still locked with his as they lower and fall to between you. “are they always warm?”

his breathing is uneven as he attempts a nonchalant shrug, replying, “i’m not sure.”

you don’t speak anymore, neither do you look at him, eyes fixated below on where your hands are locked with his. with sudden movement, you twist on your chair, turning to face your book once more. it’s a little awkward, the position, and his wrist slightly aches, but he doesn’t want to be the first one to let go, not when you haven’t yet.

for a few moments, you stay like that, arm angled as weird as his, but eventually, inevitably, you unlink your fingers, shaking his grasp off. his heart sinks disappointingly for a second, until, without sparing him a glance, your hand reaches for his again, and you intertwine your hands once more, this time a lot more comfortably.

when his heart dances in his throat the way it always does around you, he accepts it with a lot more ease.

[literaila]

in which loki eats candy. begrudgingly.

*

convincing loki to try a gummy worm was turning out to be a surprisingly difficult task.

if the glare he was sending your way, and the frown that— always —seemed to be glued to his face, meant anything. he refused to meet your eyes, instead only looking your way when he thought you weren’t looking back.

you might have been playing it up a bit much. delighting in the small, wonderful pieces of sugar that tore between your teeth. the sounds of ecstasy every time you took a bite. the purposeful chewing sounds— mostly just to annoy him, you’ll admit. you wouldn’t deny that it was all a bit much.

but still, he was a bitter, sour-faced god, and he needed to try some candy.

you were certain it didn’t look bad. it was colorful, soft, perfectly sweet and not intimidating in the slightest.

…in hindsight, that probably should’ve been the first indicator that loki would hate it.

“c’mon,” you teased when you’d first noticed loki looking your way, peering eyes staring at the candy on the desk in front of you, confusion written between his brows. “i’ll give you one if you want”

he looked away quickly, disturbed at the thought of sharing maybe, or maybe the colorful look of the plastic bag you’d now opened. “that looks dreadful,” he drawled, turning away.

you laughed, never finding him serious, even when he was very. “you don’t like gummy worms?”

he scoffed. “i don’t need to try gummy worms to know that they’re miserable creatures, unworthy of my attention”

you’d tried your very hardest not to laugh, chortle, at that very clear statement, but, to be honest, it wasn’t an easy task. though, you did almost regret it after you noticed the scowl on loki’s face.

“they’re not actual worms, junior, it’s candy”

the glare only intensifies, loki has heard that word before, many times actually, but until now he’s never actually been in the proximity of the so-called-treat.

it’s really a shame.

“why would it be named after a living creature?”

you snort, pulling one out and holding it as close to him as you can as he’s sitting across the room from you, slightly leaned back in his overly dramatic swindle chair, watching you flaunt the small food in front of him. he looks far too comfortable for a god.

“it’s-“ you sigh and spin around in your chair— far smaller, definitely less comfortable than his, of course —“normally, people don’t take it quite so literally” you say, teasing him again, despite the ‘terrifying’ looks he’s giving you.

he doesn’t answer then, looking back to the papers in front of you, effectively ignoring you.

it would almost be infuriating, but you’re eating candy, so not much can change the pleasant mood you’re currently wearing.

“you can still have one, glorious god of the office, if you’d like,” you smile at him again, sweetly. “i’m not too opposed to sharing.”

loki stays silent for a moment before looking back at you, irritation— wonderful —the clearest emotion on his pale face.

and then

“i would never eat something so…” he pauses, smile as sweet as yours making its way onto its face (you might’ve appreciated it if it wasn’t accompanied by the glint in his eyes). “..vulgar”

and you know, you are absolutely aware that he’s trying to irritate you now, it’s the most obvious thing in the world and still, he’s undeniably good at getting under your skin.

you huff, shove a handful of gummy worms in your mouth, sending a nod his way and returning to your work.

loki would never win this game that you’d started. you wouldn’t allow it.

it’s minutes later when you have the idea, possibly the best one you’ve had all day.

and that is how you end up here, chewing loudly, trying to irritate the only god in the room with your insistent delight, hoping to break him before it’s time to go home.

and really, he could seriously use a bit of candy.

he’s been looking your way, you can feel it despite the papers you’re filling out, his terrible gaze on your face, the furrowed brows you know are awaiting your eyes for when you look up. he’s terribly inconspicuous.

you moan once more before he’s leaning back in his chair once again.

“would you quit it?” he hisses.

but, of course, you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“what?” innocently, pulling another worm out of the bag and stuffing your face with it before you laugh.

“your-“ he groans. “those noises! they’re very distracting, not to mention annoying and loud.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

there’s another smile, another groan. and you’re almost sure that loki is about to storm out of the office, crowded with only the two of you now, and leave for the night.

but wait, you haven’t gotten him to try one yet.

“would you maybe.. be jealous of my candy, loki?” the way you say it makes it seem like the most scandalous thing in the world, and the roll of loki’s eyes doesn’t escape your notice.

“of course not,” he answers, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you openly now, shooting glares to the bag of candy every few seconds.

“hmm” is all you say, disbelief clear in your voice.

loki scowls again, watching your calm face. and you can see the composure slip from him as he finally, with the tension of several men, puts a hand out in front of you.

you almost cackle, terribly excited to watch him try his first bit of candy.

as soon as the gummy worm is in his hand, he’s picking it up with only two fingers as if it holds some disease, inspecting it.

“i swear, i didn’t poison it.”

loki doesn’t find that very funny, you suppose, but even with the frown on his face, he places the candy in his mouth. the calm expression remains for only seconds longer.

as soon as you see him swallow he’s coughing, gagging across from you, never failing to be as overdramatic as possible.

“that is terrible!” he says, acting as if you had poisoned him.

“you’re mad. gummy worms are delightful,” you say, still excited after having tricked him into trying it in the first place. you take another worm, placing it on your tongue and giggling at the way he flinches while he watches. “would you like another?” you ponder, finger to your chin.

“absolutely not.” he shutters. “mortals are sick creatures, insane with the poison they put into their bodies”

“and you,” you say, moving back to the papers in front of you, satisfied with this small interaction. “are very dramatic.”

*

it’s only a couple of days later when you try again.

loki hasn’t yet forgot the torture you enforced upon his tastebuds, which means he also refuses to let you forget.

mostly, it’s entertaining. incredibly amusing how insistent loki is that you’ve poisoned him, cursed him with “mortal things” and ruined him for everything else that he could possibly encounter.

so of course, you’re trying again.

late last night, after a long day of loki whining about work (and you), it was decided that candy was exactly what the prince needed. something to brighten those terribly blue eyes of his.

and really, you had no other option since he didn’t enjoy the gummy worms that you had so kindly shared with him.

a quick trip to the closest candy store was easy, brief, and you’d obtained exactly what you needed in within ten seconds of entering the shop.

now it was just time to wait.

you smiled at loki when he walked in, called a quick ‘good morning’ surprising him with how early you were, as usually he came in before you even thought of opening your eyes.

you placed the packets of candy on the corner of your desk, setting the trap and waiting for him to notice.

it didn’t take long.

“another treat?” he inquired, saying ‘treat’ as if it was anything but.

you really didn’t know why he found the gummy worms so bad.

“of course,” you answered, not bothering to look up or hide your smile. “none for you this time, unfortunately”

loki laughed, scribbling something down on the paper in front of him (what god needs eyes to watch what he’s doing?) as he stared at the bags on your desk, not uttering a word.

also unfortunately, you knew how high loki’s curiosity level always was, and you knew that eventually, he would want to know more. even if he really despised candy as he said he did.

you continued working, sneaking glances at his desk, watching him do the same thing as you were, eyes on you. you wondered for a moment if he would try and figure out what was on your desk himself. you didn’t quite doubt that he would’ve been able to turn himself invisible, if he wanted.

still though, you said nothing. he didn’t.

“what is it?” he asked, not bothering to indicate what he was talking about. he knew that you knew.

“just a thing i picked up. terribly mortal. definitely poisonous.”

he didn’t appreciate the teasing any more than he’d appreciated the gummy worms. after several, too many, seconds of him glaring at you, you complied.

“they’re called pop rocks,”

loki’s eyes widened, only slightly, before his expression relaxed again. “why are all these things named such unappealing names?”

you laughed, continuing to pretend to write. you were almost sure that the plan was working. “especially unappealing to a god, such as yourself, right?”

“right.”

…and then he sighed. you weren’t sure if it was because he was frustrated, or if he’d finally realized what you were trying to get him to do, but either way, you heard the wheels of his obnoxious chair push back.

and then he mumbled something.

“what, your highness? i didn’t catch that,” you looked up at him, enjoying his scowl this time.

“canihaveone?” he asked again, too quick to catch unless you already knew what he was asking.

“oh?” you mock exclaimed. “one of my mortal treats? the very mockery to your being?”

“they have peaked my interest,” he admitted, now staring at the black packages still on the corner of your desk. “and i’m very masochistic. i enjoy a bit of poison with my work,”

you finally laughed, his truth tied in with the lie breaking the game you were playing. it was simple enough to win, anyway.

“here, loki” you said. still chuckling as you tossed him a packet. you took one yourself, demonstrating how to eat the candy you were more sure he would enjoy.

possibly, your enjoyment in the gummy worms had been the downfall of his. you were a quick learner, luckily enough.

with the popping rocks in his mouth, head thrown back as he tried not to spill them off of his tongue—following your influence —the truth was revealed to both of you as you shared your laughs.

loki, god of mischief, office devil, absolutely adored the pop rocks.

despite the shouts of “these are torturous!” and the declaration that you were the most devious mortal he’d ever met, a far worse villain than he’d ever be, you still knew the truth.

his smile couldn’t just be erased, and the joy you’d felt radiating off of him from across the room was as true as the color of his eyes.

…and if a couple of days later, you noticed a stash-full of his own pop-rocks in one of the drawers of his desk, well. that was just a trick of the eye.

[dream-a-little-bigger-darling000]

You'll Fit So Nicely You'll Keep Me Intact

Author's Note: Hello Hello! Not my GIF, please don't think it is, but it is my fic! I asked a few days ago if I should do Bane or touch-starved Tommy, and it was pretty clear I should do my sweet summer child Tommy boy. I just really think this big tough fighter needs to take a break and be held every once in awhile. And you can't tell me this man wouldn't have the sweetest moans. Fight me on it you can't. Please Please PLEASE reblog, like, or comment on this if you liked it. I live my day to day life craving validation.

If you absolutely hated it, also let me know! I admit I'm not the best at writing, and I'm willing to learn so I can feed my Tommy Conlon addiction. Ok, that's all, be fed!

2400+ words?! C'mon, that's gotta be enough to make you proud.

The whole fiasco was genuinely an accident.

The two of you, in his small cramped apartment, helping each other make dinner, because you couldn't remember whose turn it was, walking around each other like you had been doing it for years, because you had been.

You had been by Tommy for as long as you can remember, through those years where puberty slammed in the door and decked you directly in the throat (and other places), through the time where his family had slowly fallen apart, and into the years where he had joined the US Marine Corps.

Those years had been hell. At least when he moved away you were still able to text him annoying day-to-day updates and talk in the quiet nights when no one was awake to hear you admit how much you missed each other. But when he joined the Marines, you heard even less from your Tommy, and the ache you felt for him only grew.

When he came back, he had came back for good, immediately seeking you out with the promise of your old relationship back. And things went back to normal, slotted into place perfectly.

Except the insane amount of pining that you went through every waking hour you saw his stupidly attractive face.

But you weren't going to think about that. There was spaghetti to be made.

"Those are done." Tommy nodded his head to the noodles as he made the salad. You sneered to yourself, still pissed that he got the easy part.

"No, they're not, look, that one's still hard-"

"That's what she said."

"It's still undercooked you jerk. Can you please let me cook in peace? You're over there, doing the bare minimum, you ass."

"Hey, if this isn't tossed right, the whole thing is ruined. And those noodles are definitely done. We can get them in the sauce before the garlic bread is done so it'll cool down a bit. Look." All the sudden Tommy was crowded up behind you. Your breath did something funny. Probably the steam from the boiling water. Because, you know, it's so hard to breathe around.

Tommy took the spoon you were using to stir and managed to scoop up a single noodle. He then carefully picked it up and threw it on the cabinet. It stuck, but looked like it would fall via a strong sneeze.

"See? Done." You looked behind you to stare up at the infuriating man. He smiled and tilted his head. You had the sudden urge to hit him. With your mouth. Damn it.

He turned around, not giving you a chance to argue with him. That was his first mistake. As a MMA fighter, the idiot should know never to turn your back on the enemy.

You scooped up another noodle with your spoon. You waited until he was truly busy with cutting the tomatoes up for the salad.

You aimed for his head. It wrapped around the back of his neck with a soft splat. He startled for a moment, and then set the knife down and stared forward, still not turning around to look at you.

"You know what, now it's done. Now it's stickin'." You were struggling to hold it together, desperately trying not to laugh as you turned off the stovetop and set the pan aside.

You felt strong arms envelop you from behind, and you let out a loud laugh as you felt your feet leave the floor. Tommy, spinning you around before setting you on the counter. You've really put yourself it a bad position.

Well, if you're being honest, probably the best damn position you've ever been in.

Except that the bastard started tickling you. More laughter spilled out of you, uncontrollable at this point.

"Tommy!" You were out of breath from the constant attack. What happened to never turn your back on the enemy? "Tommy, what are we in-" More laughter as his joined yours. You two were so close you could feel his shoulder dip every time he rumbled a laugh. "what are we in 6th grade now- Tommy!"

You could feel his laughter huff by your ear, and you knew you had to resort to dirty tactics. If he wanted to play by middle school standards, then you had no choice but to stoop down to his level.

Tommy was very distracted trying to murder you by laughter alone, and he looked like he was having the time of his life. He never even realized your hands were so close to his head. He was in the middle of another fit of giggles when he felt your nimble hands glide through his hair. He had half a second to understand what you were planning, and he was just about to pull away, to get as far from you as possible before-

You gave a solid pull to his hair. You felt satisfaction shoot through your body as his laugh choked off, his body going rigid underneath your fingers. His breath stuttered and his hands instantly fell from your sides to grasp the edge of the counter.

You didn't quite understand what was going on at first, the only thing on your mind being that you'd won the battle. You couldn't help the smug smile from sliding across your expression, or the snarky little giggle that bubbled it's way out.

"What's wrong, Tommy? Did someone school you at your own game, hmm? Maybe next time you'll think before you-"

"Could you please let go?" Tommy sound winded, like he'd just fought a few rounds with someone much bigger than him. It made you pause, and then frown.

Your fingers loosened from his hair, but you didn't lower your arm just yet. You couldn't fathom why Tommy was acting this way, when he instigated the rough-housing. And you knew for damn sure you hadn't hurt him. You had seen the idiot stub his toe on his coffee table before, and the only reaction out of the fighter was a pause, a look up to the ceiling, and one long, drawn out sigh.

So even though he sounded like he was trying to fight for his life, you know it absolutely wasn't because you had hurt him in anyway. Tommy could break you five times over.

You looked down at his hands. Not only was he grasping the edge of the counter top, but his knuckles were white, like he was anchoring himself. You glanced to his face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips pressed tightly together, and his eyebrows were furrowed in deep concentration. Was he- was that a blush? His body was still pulled tight.

Experimentally, you lightly scraped your nails along his scalp.

If Tommy were to ever hear you call the sound that came from him a whimper, he'd probably swiftly and effectively dispose of your body. But it was a fucking whimper.

His eyes snapped open wide and met yours. You saw his utter mortification. You would say you felt guilty, but having your long time crush whimper while slotted between your thighs as you sat a top a kitchen counter really did things for you.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for letting your mind fall into the gutter as your friend so obviously had a small break down.

Before you could get a word out, to try talk him down from whatever thoughts were swirling in that pretty head of his, Tommy was out of kitchen. Ah, so he's chosen drama today? Coming from a man who would rather fight his own brother than talk, you can't really find it in yourself to be surprised.

"Tom." You dropped down from the counter, heading toward the living room, which was the only way he could've gone. As you rounded the corner, you saw him pacing the length of the room, his hands interlaced behind his head, elbows out, eyes wild.

"Tommy." You smoothed out your voice, pictured yourself trying to calm down a particularly flighty horse. You know, if the horse were the love of your life and you were desperately trying to make things less weird between you two before the already delicate friendship collapsed.

At your gentle prod he stopped. He let his hands fall down to his sides. He huffed once. Crossed his arms, made a face, and then dropped them. His fists curled up into balls and he closed his eyes. He opened one and looked toward you.

"You didn't hear that."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your own arms to your chest.

He pointed to the kitchen. "That didn't happen."

Because you love your best friend very much, you didn't roll your eyes.

"Tommy. Calm down. Take a deep breath." He did not take a deep breath. You did for him. Then another one for you. You moved toward the couch, and the way he suddenly looked like he was about to sprint out the door didn't escape you. You held your hands up placatingly. Easy, boy.

You sat down, leaving enough room for him to sit beside you. He looked at you wearily. You gave him a pointed look, one that said this is something to be discussed, and there's no way you're getting out of it, and gently patted the space for him.

He looked like he'd rather do anything else. He eventually made his way to the spot and plunked down, but as close to the arm of the couch as possible.

You gave him a sweet smile. He looked away, but not before you caught the blush. You decided to let him speak first.

It was quiet for awhile. Your thoughts went to the noodles still sitting on the counter, probably cooling in the water making a film. He cleared his throat.

"I don't. Not a ton of people touch me." He stared dutifully in front of him. You stayed silent, afraid of scaring him into silence again. He shifted uncomfortably, letting out a growl of frustration. "I mean people touch me. I just meant. It's not. It's," He looked like each word was slowly strangling him, "Never that intimate. I guess. And never anyone like you."

You're eyebrows shot up. His head jerked toward you.

"Not like that, I mean like someone so pretty." You choked a little. He visibly flinched. "Ok. I think that's enough for tonight. I think I've made plenty an ass of myself for one God forsaken night." He made to move, but your hand covered his before you really thought about it. He immediately stopped, staring at your hand on top of his.

"Tommy, it's ok." He gave you a dubious look. "No, really. Lots of people don't know how to deal with touch when it's not normal for them-"

"I'm fine, I touch people all the time, it doesn't matter it's ridiculous-"

"Tommy." He stopped. You lifted both hands to slowly cradle his face. His eyes were panicky. He looked like he was fighting every instinct inside him. "Listen to me, love." His eyes widened. "You don't have to explain anything. I need you to know it's ok to freak out a little. It's ok for this to be new." You bit your lip. "It's ok if it feels good."

A small sound came from the fighter. His eyes slipped closed. It suddenly hit you. You sucked in a sharp breath, and you started to gently stroking his face to his neck.

"Oh Tommy. You spend all that time fighting in the ring, so much time dominating. You barely let anyone touch you before you knock them away." His dad was probably never there to offer him any type of physical love, and his mom was too distanced from anyone to truly give what Tommy craved. By that time, he had pushed his brother away, and you had never really noticed him to be very active in the dating area.

You could feel his control slipping, could feel him slowly letting you hold his head up while he explored the sensation of someone just feeling him. When he spoke, his speech was slightly slurred.

"Was always jus' scared."

"I know Tommy."

"Didn' want you t' leave."

"And why would I do something stupid like that."

There was a second of silence, but Tommy was too far in to go back now.

"Cuz' I only wanted you to touch. Only ever you." Your heart stopped. His eyes slowly opened, meeting yours. His gaze snapped to your lips, back up to your eyes. All it took was for your eyes to snap to his lush mouth, and he was surging to meet you.

You felt like you were melting, melding into him. His lips were sliding against yours, his hands suddenly huge, thumbs cupping your face while his hands rested on the sides of your neck. He kissed like you see him fight. The urgency and the power and the emotion. You ached all over.

You could hardly remember your name when you finally separated, heaving lungfuls of air. Maybe all that oxygen deprivation had really done something to your brain, because you might be having a stroke. It almost smelled like something was burning. Tommy's face did something funny and he sniffed the air.

Oh. OH. The garlic bread.

Both of you made a mad dash for the kitchen, Tommy arriving first and throwing the oven door open, grabbing whatever cloth he could find to take out the charred bread as you used a dishrag to flap away any smoke that spilled out.

Once he made sure his apartment wasn't going to burn down or that the ambulance wan't going to be making a surprise visit, he slumped against the counter, breathing heavily. You put your hands on your hips.

A few second went by, both of you trying to catch your breath. Tommy looked up at you. You met his eye.

You both melted into peeling laughter, trying to stay upright. It seemed like every time you two would get your shit together, you'd fall right back into cackles.

He finally reigned in the worst of the laughter, and slowly made his way to where you were standing. Your own laughs died down.

"Are we good?" you ask him gently. He nods his head, with his sweet smile.

"We're good" he replies gently. He gets this determined look on his face, and steps real close to you. He doesn't do anything else for awhile, instead looking to you, asking with questioning eyes.

You give him an encouraging smile. He smiles right back at you, and for the second time tonight, strong arms envelop you.

[merakiui]

Ok concept Time

(If you think this is too much don’t post this I understand!)

Cw drugging, implied non con, loss of virginity, SCARAMOCHE BEING A JERK

You are one of the Liyue Qixing who oversees all the banks in Liyue. Now that Rex Lapis had stopped minting the coins a new pile of responsibility had fallsed on to your shoulders. What’s frustrating is that the rest of the Qixing doesn’t want to help and you think that is because Ningguang told them not to. You and her butthead enough on passing of laws. (You want a free market while she wants more governmental regulation)

After recieving another “proposal” from Ningguang you are infuriated. To think she has the audacity to order you around? Absurd. When you seek to take a break from work in a little tea shop you found an adorable young man trying to stike up a conversation.

You know he is a Fatui from the emblem on his clothing, but you do not make it that big of a deal. The northland bank abides the rules of Liyue and brings gold to the market. Of course you agree with Ningguang that they should be treated with caution, but you never viewed them as enemies.

Well, you had to admit that it’s good to let your pent up anger out. Everyone in Liyue seems to worship Ningguang as if she is their archon now, hard to find someone who would criticize her these days.

You are careful to not spill too much, just minor things, but then your mind begins to spin and blur, you did not brought your attendants with you.

That look of horror on your face in the morning was worth countless mora to Scaramouche. Carassing your cheeks gently, he whispered his conditions of keeping this under wraps.

Marry him, so the people of Liyue would not know one of their respectable Qixing had lost her virginity to a Fatui Harbinger.

He doesn’t need to tell you what he did. You’re smart enough to figure that out.

To have one who has so much authority over others now to him makes his ego implode in geometric ratio.

(I love Ningguang I just need an opening hhhhhh)

-wonderful anon

WONDERFUL ANON, I DEMAND A COLLABORATION OTL jk jk ...unless? 👀

But whoaaa that is such a great concept! 10/10! The absolute power trip the Harbingers would get out of taking your virginity. Like,, waaahhh! Scaramouche is definitely at the top of the list for ‘jerk who lives for the virginity-claiming power trip.’ And the forced marriage too?! AAAHH WOWOWOW SCARA WOULD SO DO THAT! Please do not hesitate to bless us with more of your galaxy ideas!!!! 

Okay, ahem. Let me add my thoughts onto this amazing concept.

cw: nsfw, implied non-con, mentions of forced marriage, yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied drug usage

You can’t believe you fell for his false charm. More importantly, you can’t believe you didn’t bring your attendants with you. How could you act so foolishly? Even though you had taken care to divulge only minor details about yourself, such as your name and your preferred flavor of tea, it didn’t mean anything to him. He was content to listen and watch while you talked and sipped at your tea, quietly plotting all sorts of maddening things.

It’s very odd when you wake up in a plush bed with him at your side. All sorts of emotions and feelings crash into your just-barely awake self. You’re confused and worried, fearing for your own safety because you just can’t remember what happened the night prior. Your memory only goes back to the tea shop and Scaramouche with his opulent attire and charming grin. And yet now all forms of clothing have been shed and you’re so exposed. It’s more frightening than it is embarrassing, and when he smirks at your horrified expression it all crashes down on you at once.

The reason you’re so groggy and sore: drugs and sex. Of course. That has to be the only explanation for why you feel so miserable, both inside and out. And you’re absolutely speechless as he lays out the conditions, all confidence and pride, as if he didn’t just take something precious from you. Something that you were hoping to give to an actual lover and not some meddling Fatui scumbag.

“Marry you?” You repeat it without meaning to, but it still stuns you all the same. “You can’t be serious.”

“You heard me once, did you not?” His face is incredibly close to yours and you feel the uncanny need to hide under the covers. You surmise that even the most devout of prayers to Rex Lapis won’t be heard over the terrifying pound of your heart. “You shall be engaged to me and we’ll see to it that this little...secret of ours is kept under wraps. Surely that’s fair?”

“Hardly! You...” Your hands come up to cover your face and you’re caught between the urge to suffocate him in the linens or to cry rivers of tears. “You drugged me! And you... My—“

“Was it that special?” 

It was, you want to say, but you refuse to admit it. If you broke down in front of him, it would negate the strength you’re so desperately trying to uphold.

“No... But you can’t just drug someone and then have your way with them! And you can’t force them into marriage either. That’s the definition of insane.”

You feel sick and violated, pinned to a cork board like a deceased butterfly under his serious stare. And then he laughs. His lips turn upward in a sick smile and this man laughs. You’re not amused when you lower your hands to fix him with a glower, hoping he can read through your narrowed eyes and take the hint.

“Well, I did just that,” he finally says after he’s regained his composure, thin fingers grasping your chin. Your skin prickles at his deceitfully soft touch. “I suppose that, by your standards, I would be insane. Is that true?”

You’re too scared to agree and you have no idea what to do now. 

------

WOW OKAY SO!!! This is such a good concept. I just had to write a small snippet to contribute! I also had an idea concerning Ningguang! Even though the two of you disagree and don’t often get along because of your beliefs, she doesn’t think you’re a bad person. So she’s somewhat concerned when she learns that you don’t return to work after your break, and she becomes alarmed when all of your attendants claim to have no idea as to where you could’ve gone. She might not be your best friend, but you’re still one of the Liyue Qixing. Ningguang can’t just ignore it when someone with such an important role suddenly disappears.

Unfortunately, she has no idea where to start looking and the case of your disappearance is most likely handed off to someone who doesn’t exactly care that much. Either way, you’re still stuck with Scaramouche, who will make sure to limit your freedom, and as time ticks away so does your hope of escaping him. You can already hear the nightmarish chime of a forced wedding ceremony.

As for a beginning to this lovely scenario, perhaps the reader is frustrated because of all of the extra work being piled onto their schedule, and so it begins with them angrily heading out for some much-needed air, as you mentioned in the start of your concept. They decide to relax at a tea shop and that’s where they meet Scarymoose Scaramouche. >:) Perhaps he had some of his underlings stalk them and report back to him with the information, which is how he seems to know of your movements and where to find you. 

[lyallblacklupin]

If you are taking suggestions, then can you please write Remus being a little shit and just driving sirius crazyyyyy like Remus smirks and Sirius just dies. Ps love your writing!!

Wolfstar AU: Enemies to Lovers. 

Sirius is breathing raggedly. His heart isn’t beating at a normal pace. Not because he is at a dinner party at the Black household but because he is at the dinner party of the Black household. And with none other than Remus Lupin.

“Will you relax?” Remus whispers in his ear.

“How can I relax when I’m in the middle of people who don’t just despise their son’s ‘house mate’—“

Remus bits the inside of his cheek to keep himself from sniggering.

“—but the son as well! Look, there are Lestranges, Averys, Malfoys and fuck here is Lupin? How?

“Because you invited me?” Remus suggests with a smirk which pushes Sirius on the edges.

“I cannot believe my parents approved of letting me bring a friend to this party.”

“Sirius, it’s your birthday.” The birthday party is just a platform made by Walburga and Orion to eradicate all of the doubts and misjudgments of the high pureblood families towards Sirius who was on the front page of the Daily Prophet last year to be almost beaten to death by his family and ended up in the St. Mungos. The news was accelerated faster, in Great Britain, than the Black Family’s anticipations, so to keep up with their reputation, they have thrown Sirius a formal birthday party. The guests seem relaxed to see the Black heir suited up on the staging area with his parents on either of his sides. So, technically the birthday party is not for Sirius in any way. “And what did you just call me your friend?”

Sirius rolls his eyes at him. Remus Lupin is one of the roommates he shares his dorm with at Hogwarts. They have survived four years together without ripping each other in halves. But one day, the enemies became allies when James Potter interfered with his utter generosity by asking him and Peter to become Animagis to accompany Remus on the full moon after they openly confessed that they knew about his condition. Peter has been humble like James—but dense, of course—but Sirius has been unable to. However, Remus has softened up comparatively to him. Again, Sirius finds it difficult to reconcile. Fortunately, now he knows why.

Remus takes the champagne from a grim-looking waitress before Sirius bats his hand away and puts the drink back on the tray.

“Don’t you dare drink or eat anything from here. They must be trying to poison you.” Remus slams his palm on his face in exasperation but then he smirks.

“So you do care about me, don’t you, Black?” Remus winks at him, and Sirius swallows hard. The blood feels to be reaching up to his neck and cheek. He feels very hot all of a sudden because Remus Lupin is stupidly grinning in an abnormally tight suit. The blue shirt underneath his black mackintosh is unbuttoned from the collar, and his tie is loosely hanging around his neck. Sirius tries to avert his eyes from him.

The fact that he has a filthy half-blood werewolf in the middle of the dark pureblood families, and how he has to cope-up with an extreme sweet behavior—not to mention, fake—of his parents, are not the only reasons for him to look like he has ants in his pants. He is troubled by his very own fact that Remus Lupin looks utterly, insanely, and hopelessly breathtaking. He doesn’t want to accept that he is head over heels in love with him, and no one is ever going to find out.

“Sirius, that was the same drink Bellatrix picked up,” Remus whispers when Sirius doesn’t answer, eyeing the Lestranges cackling loudly as if they are competing against each other on who cackles the loudest.

“Oh, her blood is already venomous. I highly doubt a poison could kill her.” Sirius whispers back harshly. He feels like he is stuck to stand too close to Remus—not that he doesn’t enjoy it because he relishes it a little too much—and it does no good to him in breathing normally. His nostrils are filling the scent of Remus’ cologne, which is infuriating. He stops himself from picturing Remus laying shirtless on his bed.

Remus lets out a sweet chortle which brings Sirius out of the haze that sings ‘Remus’ like a mantra, but then Remus is staring at him intensely. His amber eyes remind him of honey and autumn. Sirius looks away again.

“What’s going on?” His voice is so gentle that Sirius feels his insides squirm.

“Shut up.” He mutters.

“Okay.” And Sirius is extremely indignant at him for not arguing. He loves to argue with Remus because it makes him love him fiercely. It is nonsensical, but it is what it is.

Push him on the wall so hard that his head bleeds, and then I kiss him firmly on the lips. What!? Yes, disturbing. An absolute disturbed heir, everyone!

“What do you mean ‘okay’?” Sirius protests.

“You command me to shut up, so I shut up.” Command? Command, Lupin? Are you trying to kill me? Remus looks thoroughly oblivious while Sirius thinks he must be looking like a raging psychotic because he believes he is one.

“Fuck you.” He says under his breath, and fucking Lupin smirks!? Sirius grabs the first glass of the pack of champagnes the waitress comes with and drinks a long sip of it.

But then Remus begins to wander here and there. Sirius feels like his anxiety is back taking a toll because a dark-skinned girl is smiling at him. Before he knows it, they are hitting off with each other. Sirius clenches his teeth at the sight, and the grip on his glass is tight enough to break it as he feels his magic raging up inside him.

Thankfully, the party goes on, people have come to wish him birthday greetings with hopes that he might offer them to take a picture with them, but his feet remain grounded on the spot he was standing at, with Remus. His eyes fixedly are following him everywhere he goes with that girl. At the same time, Sirius is surprised about how the girl hasn’t figured out that he is a half-blood who also hasn’t suited up like an aristocrat. He smiles deviously to himself with the satisfaction that soon the girl is going to figure out and eventually she wouldn’t date him, and then…

“Mine,” Sirius growls.

A few minutes later, Sirius finds Remus reachable—fortunately, without that girl—trying to make a conversation with other people. Sirius immediately smells something bad when he realizes that Remus is going to talk to some Averys. Without thinking, he lunges towards Remus and grabs the first thing his hands could reach. He hasn’t completely registered that his fingers have caught the loops of his belt, which takes Remus off guard. And he slams his steel chest against Sirius’ and the champagne pours on his expensive suit. Remus gapes at him, looking angry and apologetic.

“Oh, Merlin! Sirius, I am so sorry but what the hell!?”

“Wow, the audacity!” He spits with venom in his voice, “My suit is spoiled, not yours!”

“Wha—? You pulled me!” That’s it, my boy, keep arguing! You drive me crazy, Lupin.

“You were clumsy enough to ram into me!”

“I—“ His anger is like a feather. It flies away, “I’m sorry…come here, let me fix it for you—“ He is taking out his wand but Sirius doesn’t like it because he doesn’t approve of the simplicity in the situation. He needs fire and set himself on it. But for that, he needs Remus Lupin.

“No. You have driven me crazy tonight, Remus Lupin. I am going to make you pay for it.” Sirius grunts, and then they are out of people’s sight as he drags Remus to his room. He looks genuinely surprised. His parted lips, his rosy cheeks, his silver scars glowing on his face make him look ethereal. Sirius walks towards the dumbfounded prey of the night.

But then Sirius is rammed into the wall as Remus crashes his lips against his. He instantly kisses him back. Hard, like he has been wanting. For years.

“I drive you crazy, huh?” Remus says against his lips, before slamming his mouth back to Sirius’.

Sirius pulls him closer by those fucking belt loops that have gotten them here in the first place. He deepens the kiss but Remus pulls away to take a breath.

“I will drive you crazy for the rest of your life,” Remus whispers in his ear maliciously, which causes Sirius to shudder beneath him. He has no time to process how it is all happening, but for now, he knows that this is the best birthday of all of his years.

“Yeah, you better.” He manages to say between his breathlessness but then Remus takes him again by the back of his neck and doesn’t stop kissing him.

[ddaengyoonmin]

Pairing: Single dad / childhood best friend!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: !!ANGST!!, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

Warnings:(issa dark oneee)  Mentions of abuse, abusive parent, underage drinking and drug use, Jungkook is an ass, lots of descriptions of smoke and cigarettes in an unhealthy way. Mentions of vomiting.  Toxic behaviors in general; Rough play; handjob; edging; Sub!Jungkook; Dom!Reader; choking; biting; overstimulation; slight mentions of blood; just all around physical and emotional pain definitely not #goals.

a/n: definitely cried a bit writing this.  This story ended up becoming super important to me and something I think I’ve been holding in for a while.  A lot of this story is based on my own life and personal experiences, which is why the first part is a highschool backstory.  Absolutely nothing sexual happens until they are both adults, the first part of the story was just a necessary cathartic therapy moment for me to get out :_)

(Also I tried to make this a gender neutral insert, but this is my first time doing that so kindly let me know if there's anything I can do to improve on that!)

Song inspiration: Kathleen- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Rango- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Anything-Catfish and the Bottlemen

--------

He was completely insane. It never made you like him any less though.

When you’d first heard Jungkook was back in town you had so many different emotions running through you, you thought you’d faint at the feeling.

------

When you were still in highschool, he had been your closest friend.  You spent practically every day after school with Jungkook, smoking in your car, driving around through cemeteries laughing about something funny one of your teachers had said, or the security guard who’d tried to chase you down the halls for skipping 2nd hour earlier in the day.  There never seemed to be a dull moment when he was around.

 When you’d first met him, insane and reckless were never words that would’ve come into your mind.

He was a grade younger than you and had seemed to fly mostly under your radar through all your highschool years.  It wasn’t until the second half of your Junior year that you'd even noticed he existed.

You’d shown up to the first day of track practice the way you always had, scanning over the new freshman on the team.  You’d mistaken him for a freshman and greeted him as such.  He nervously and shyly corrected you that he was actually a Sophomore just searching around for something new to try out.  

About half way through the practice you noticed a group of your teammates had swarmed around Jungkook and he looked to be almost in tears as he cowered under their words and faces, looking up at them all.

He was a small child, not very muscular and extremely geeky looking.  You found it endearing though, and found the classmates picking on him infuriating.

You stormed across the track over to where they stood demanding to know their problem, they all were also a grade younger than you and seemed to be intimidated by you.  How could they not be with the star of the track team chewing them out like they were being condemned to hell.

After they left, two big saucer eyes stared up at you, tears still slightly pooled up in his lower lid, he wiped them off with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He sniffled. He explained that everyone in his grade always picked on him like that.  He didn’t really have any friends, and everyone seemed to think of him as the weird kid.

After that day the two of you were inseparable.  

You went to the city fair together on the last day of school that year, and that was the first time it happened.

You were supposed to be at a school sanctioned celebration, you’d told your mom that's where you’d be.

But here you were sitting in your car with Jungkook before going to the fair, the two of you giggling as he messily tried to roll a joint, swearing that his older brother had taught him how.

You felt yourself bleeding guilt for lying to your parents.  But, how could anything that sweet Jungkook convinced you to do be bad?

Stoned out of your mind the two of you ran hand in hand around the fair, giggling and riding your favorite rides too many times.  That was the first time you realized, he was truly your best friend.

That summer had you pulling a 180 on everything you’d ever thought you were capable of.

Before you knew it, you were sneaking out of your house multiple times a week to drive around with Jungkook and smoke, listening to music and feeling free.

———

It was now the middle of summer.  You were sitting in your car while Jungkook was filling up gas for you.  

Two girls and a man approached Jungkook and started chatting.  You found that odd, but then again, Jungkook had a habit of getting into conversations with strangers everywhere you went.

You never really noticed it til then, but at some point, he had really changed from the boy you met.  He was more outgoing, he was dressing better…

A tap on your window surprised you.

“Hey y/n! These guys are throwing a party at their place, let's just park your car here and go! They said just hop in!”

You felt your jaw drop a bit as you opened your mouth to protest.  But he was staring back at you so excited, so hopeful that you’ll join him.  You agreed, against all better judgement and that sick feeling in your stomach that you shouldn’t be getting into a car with strangers.

Jungkook whispered in your ear as the two of you walked to your car. “I told them we were 22” He chuckled.  Your heart dropped a bit, more sick feelings coming on.  

“Okay.” You managed to nod and agree somehow.  Jungkook excitedly opened the door to their backseat, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.

You were both lucky, the strangers were not murderers, though there was no party, just them and some beer and a hookah in a messy apartment living room.

None of it felt right, it didn’t really feel like a fun time.  Jungkook though seemed to think he was at the party of the century.  He chugged the beer they gave him in no time and was up messing with their stereo trying to get on some “PARTY MUSIC” he screamed out.

In no time at all that firecracker of a boy was wasted and trying to dance up on their table.

It wasn’t long before the apartment owners realized their mistake, this child was completely off the rails drunk.  One of them tried to bring him down from the table and he somehow managed to kick their glass hookah entirely across the room.

There was a still silence as you all looked at the shattered glass on the ground.  You had your hand clasped over your mouth looking from the glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide at you, the smile that grew on his face seemed ill fitting for the moment, as the apartment owners were obviously furious.

“Run!” Jungkook screamed out in a laugh, rushing over to you and grabbing you tightly by your wrist and pulling you out the front door.

Then the two of you ran, you just kept running down the street till your lungs gave out and you collapsed on the ground on a grassy patch in front of a gas station.

Jungkook’s chest was heaving but he still managed a loud laugh, his eyes crinkling as he held his stomach, rolling over onto his side.

“Jungkook.  That was insane…” You gasped out.

“That was fun.” he chuckled, seeming to be unphased by it all with a casual smile, rolling back onto his back and staring up at the sky.

And that was the moment you realized how crazy he was.

After that, things like this were common with Jungkook.  You were his protector at school and his partner in mischief and crime.

The two of you ended up both quitting track together, against your parent’s scolding and the coaches yelling about losing one of their star runners.  

You knew you wouldn’t be a star that year though, with all the smoking you’d been doing and you’d skipped out completely on practicing throughout the summer.  It just seemed pointless.  And you wanted more time with Jungkook before you had to leave…

———

You found yourself getting in increasingly more dangerous situations.  He’d have you take him to parties at nearby university dorms, he refused to learn to drive, part of you felt like it was just because he liked you driving him around.  

He always lied about his age, that never sat right with you.

Sometimes you found yourself gripping both hands on a beer bottle so tightly you thought your fingers might snap while he was getting talked to by every person that walked by. People loved him at first glance every time you went out together. But they didn’t know him.  

They didn’t get to see his real chaos, they never learned the lies he told them, they’d never be able to understand him.  Not like you thought you knew him.

You knew things weren’t good at home for Jungkook.  He had an older brother he was close with named Jin, and a young sister named Jill, both very lovely, but his dad was a real piece of work.  In the whole time you’d been friends with Jungkook you’d only been to his house twice, he avoided ever taking you there if he could.

You found out why when one of the times Jungkook had thought it’d be safe to bring you over for a moment, his dad got home from work early.

“What’s this shit.” His dad had grumbled at Jungkook, pointing to the light eyeliner he had around his eyes.  Jungkook had recently started to wear makeup, he did a good job of making it look natural, but today he’d gone a little heavy on the eyeliner.

“Nothing.” Jungkook muttered, turning his back to his dad.

Apparently that was the wrong move, and all you could do was stand there, frozen.

Jungkook and you have never talked about that day.  But it was traumatic for you both.  You held him close that night as he cried in your arms, sitting in the parking lot of your favorite park to smoke in.

His eye now even more black than it had been with just the eyeliner, which was now smudged across his face due to his tears.

You vowed to never let anyone hurt him ever again.  No matter what.

---------

Months later Jungkook was taking pictures of you, for your senior pictures.  Talking about how you’d be gone next year but you’d still stay in touch.  Graduation was hanging over you like a dark cloud.  You didn’t want things to change between you and Jungkook.

As much trouble as you’d gotten in, as much as your grades had dropped this year, as much as your parents gave him judgemental looks any time he was around, you loved him so much.

---------

It was the last month of school.

He was gone.

Somehow his father had managed to get your phone number and you were hearing an entire vocabulary of cuss words.

“I know you’re hiding him from me.  Where the fuck is he?’ the man growled on the other end of the phone.

You wish you knew.

But he just didn’t show up to school that day.

He didn’t text you like he always did to say that he was ready to be picked up.

No voicemail.

Not a word.

And now even his dad was calling you.  The worry that you felt had you not paying attention to one word of your classes all day.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the rest of the week.

Until next monday.  He was just...there.

“What the fuck Jungkook!” You punched him in the shoulder.  He looked like a mess, his hair hadn’t been cut or washed in a while, and he looked like he was wearing the remnants of makeup from a few days ago.

He chuckled “I decided to just hop a train out of town for a while” He shrugged “fuck it.”

“And you couldn’t tell your best friend where you went? Do you realize I thought you were dead?” You snapped at him.

He shrugged again. “It's fine.  It was fun!” He smiled a giant toothy grin.

Your blood was boiling.  How could he not even say sorry? How could he act like this didn’t affect you at all.  It was infuriating.

You didn’t talk to him for a week.

------

You made up with Jungkook, but things never went back to normal.  You were always waiting for him to just up and leave again.  To just abandon you and act like nothing is even the matter…

You’d graduated and it was summer, you thought like last summer you’d be hanging out together most every day.

But, he stopped asking.

When you did hang out with him, he’d continuously mention this new group of friends he’d found in the town he ended up in on his little adventure.  You’d think they were celebrities the way he gushed about them.

There was a girl of course, she was ‘the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen’.  You found yourself holding back a sob at those words, because you knew exactly what he meant.  Because it was the same as what you saw when you looked at him.

He was increasingly spending more time with his new friends than you, and school would be starting for you soon...maybe it was a good thing.  He was still in highschool and you were becoming an adult, he needed friends in his grade.

That didn’t make it hurt less though.

Only about a month into summer, with a simple text Jungkook invited himself over, asking you to order some pizza and said he’d be staying the night.

In your new apartment you’d gotten to yourself after graduation, Jungkook now smoking with you on your couch, the two of you chuckling about the show you were watching.  Nothing seemed wrong at that moment, it all seemed finally back to normal between you two.

And that was the last time you had seen Jungkook for 4 years.

------------

You’d checked your phone what seemed like every minute for the first month he was gone.

Even texting his brother Jin many times and getting no reply.

You waited for him to come back with some wild and crazy story of new trouble he’d gotten himself into.  You figured he had to come back, he still had school, and with Jin in college he’d never leave his little sister alone with that monster right?

But as months continued to pass, it was clear he wasn’t coming back.  All of his social media platforms had been deleted or you’d been blocked.

There weren’t enough tears in your body for how hard you cried yourself to sleep each night when you realized he really was gone.  You felt your body heaving against your mattress with each loud sob.  Your head was beginning to throb from the tears and from the stress of knowing you really had lost him.

Not that he was ever yours.

That was something you should’ve realized sooner.

Jungkook would never belong to anyone or any place.

 You chuckled at a memory of skipping class, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, his wild eyed smiling expression when he’d pass you back your cigarette completely smoked to the end.

“How!?” You’d smack his shoulder with a laugh. “It was only half smoked and I handed it to you for a hit!!! How is it gone!”

He’d wink, laugh and lean back in his seat.  “Just trying to die quicker.”

------------

You’d graduated from your university this year.  Life had pretty much gone according to plan for you that way, you had to retake one class which really wasn’t bad considering how much you’d fallen off at the end of highschool.

You were finishing up your shift at the chain restaurant you’d been working at the past year.  As you were clearing off dishes sighing over another table stiffing you on a tip, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Quickly you took the dishes into the kitchen to the dishwasher and went to the bathroom to check your phone.

It was a text from a former classmate you’d hung out with a few times.  You and Jungkook would smoke with him occasionally, though Jungkook seemed closer to him than you.  It didn’t surprise you, Jungkook made friends so easily when they weren’t in his own grade.  

Jungkook…

What was surprising was that it’d actually been a bit since you’d thought about Jungkook in a way that made your heart ache this way.  It’d been years, he was nothing more than a story you’d tell to new friends.  That wild child that you hung around with in highschool, the one who got you into so much trouble.  People’s eyes would widen at some of the stories you’d told (If only they knew the ones you didn’t dare repeat)

“You could’ve died!” They’d say.  

Or “He seems like he was just a toxic friend.”

Some even would ask you if you think maybe he could’ve been a sociopath.

You'd laugh and say it was probably true.  As much as you had hung out with Jungkook, you never quite felt like that love you held for him as your friend was ever returned.

The older you got and the more you looked back on it, Jungkook never did anything but use you.  

You drove him everywhere, you bought him dinners, you bought the cigarettes and weed, you defended him from his classmates( even though you’d seen him stab a man with a pen at a party once, over simply interrupting him.)

And what did Jungkook give to you?

Chaos.  Trouble.  Pain.  Hurt…

You closed your eyes and gulped.  You want him out of your head.  But when you open your eyes and stare back down to the text on your phone, that wish is impossible.

‘Jungkook is back’ It read.

A chill spread across your entire body and your phone clattered to the floor.  You didn’t even think about the cracked screen you’d likely caused.  Your mind was stuck on one word, one name.

Jungkook.

Jungkook…

You actually felt sick, luckily you were already in the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls you emptied your stomach, tears forming in your eyes you collapsed with your back to the cold painted cement of the bathroom wall.

He's back.

What does that even mean?

While Jungkook had been a geeky little kid in his classmates eyes for most of his life, his reputation had started to get around.  When he went missing he was the talk of the town.  Everyone seemed to have their own theory.

“I heard he ran off with a meth dealer.” … “No, I heard he’s in florida fighting alligators.” …. “That's bullshit he's obviously finally gotten himself in juvi!” they’d all speculated.

The worst part of hearing all of that, was that you could only speculate too.

He’s back…

A second text came in.  You gulped and looked down to see a link to an instagram page kookymonster69.  Of course it was that, you chuckled.

You clicked the link and it sent you over to his page.  There were only three pictures posted, he really had just come back...you’d thought maybe he’d just blocked you so somehow this was a relief.

The first photo was a selfie, and WOW.  He did not look like the small lanky boy that you had been friends with.

He was wearing a loose fitting tank top that showed off his massive biceps and the tattoos that covered his arms and hands.  His hair was still jet black but he seemed to have learned how to perfectly style it, and his eyeliner was more on point than it's ever been.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. Your heart beat fast right before it sank at the second picture.

It was him with a child that looked to be around 3 years old, the caption reading ‘My lil mini me’.

Oh…

Your mind flashed back to the girl he’d always talked about, the time he’d been spending with his new friends instead of you.

Of course.

Of course that's where he went.

But why couldn’t he tell you?  Why would he think you wouldn’t want to be involved in his kids life?

You cursed again under your breath and without thinking you pressed the follow button.

“I-” You gasped.  You really hadn’t meant to do that.  But, maybe it's good he knows that you know he's back…

--------

Two days later you got a notification.  Kookymonster69 is following you on instagram.

Within minutes a dm was popping up on your screen.

“Long time no talk huh?” it read.

You wanted to throw your phone against the wall.  Though that would be the second act of unwarranted phone violence because of this little shit. So you held back.  Theres only so much in your life he’s allowed to fuck up.

How could he think that was what you wanted to hear after all this time.  No different than when he’d hopped a train out of town and came back like nothing was out of the ordinary.

No apology.  No “You must’ve been so worried”

You started to type out a message telling him off.  Asking him what the fuck was wrong with him, just dissapearing and coming back into your life like this.

You maxed out the word count on your text and re read it back over.  Sighing, you deleted every word and sent a simple.  

“Yeah...it really has been a while.  How are you?”

Damnit.  You groaned and tossed yourself onto your side on your couch.  

He replied almost instantly.  

“Better lately...I have a son.”

“I saw, he looks a lot like you.  I always knew if you had a kid they’d look just like you lol called it” you felt a smile grow on your face, despite every bone in your body reminding you of who he was, and what he’s done...here you were letting your cheeks catch fire once again at his words.

“He does. lol he’s so much smarter than me though already.”

“I don’t doubt that ;) “

It was about ten minutes and he hadn’t replied.  You knew ten minutes wasn’t a long time, nothing compared to four years.  Yet somehow those ten minutes were the longest moments you’d ever experienced.

“I wanna see you again.” the words read on your phone.  You felt your stomach tie itself up into a tight knot.  

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  You should have never even replied.

Why were you digging up the past?

You quickly turned your phone over and groaned.

Letting him back in would likely only bring you more pain.  Why the hell were you actually considering it.

This time it was your turn to wait a while before replying.  You were weighing pro’s and con’s lists in your brain and though the con’s list kept growing, the Pro list’s first and only item seemed to top it all.  ‘Its Jungkook.’

---------

So here you were.  Waiting in your car outside of the address he’d texted you to pick him up at.  You were parked outside of a cheap looking apartment building only about five minutes from where you lived.  You wondered how long he’d been here...this close to you without you knowing.  

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him walk out the front door.   He was wearing an oversized grey baggy t-shirt and tight black skinny jeans ripped at the knee where you could see the start of a tattoo peeking out.  He had on silver chains and his hands were covered in rings, he looked like some kind of goth model.

You rolled the window down and called over to him.

“Not sure if you remember my car.” You spoke lightheartedly trying to offset the nervous feeling, and another feeling you were still trying to sort out.

He belly laughed and smoothly opened your passenger door and hopped in.

“How could I forget!” his dark eyes were wide and excited as always, his charming smile you’d once been so used to now making your brain practically glitch out. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

You shyly shook your head.  “Broke college student” You chuckled. “So what are we doing? You said you just wanted to chill…”

Jungkook smiled and relaxed back into your seat, like he’d done a million times, so naturally.  Though he didn’t look like the same small boy you once knew.

“Yeah, like old times.” He winked and pulled out a small baggie of weed.

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“C’mon don’t tell me you quit.” He teased.

“Of course I didn’t.” You chuckled.

“Good y/n.” He smiled cutely, booping your nose with one finger, and you felt your heart stop.

Your face must’ve fallen or had some sort of expression to let him know he’d affected you, because he immediately punched your shoulder as if to snap you out of your thought.

“Give me a cigarette then and let's go.” He demanded joyfully, banging on the dash of your car and giving you an “onward” motion with his arm for you to start driving.

You drove around for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and passing a joint back and forth.

He didn’t talk much about himself or what he’d been up to and he also didn’t ask much about you either.  When you’d bring up questions you got short replies that didn’t seem very satisfying.

“So are you still with your kids mom?” You asked him as he was passing you an almost fully smoked joint.

“Hell no!” he coughed out smoke with his words.  “Evil.” he muttered and shook his head.

“Evil?”

“Yup.” he nodded, grabbing another cigarette from your pack without asking.  Just as he always used to.  What's yours was always his back then, but right now his casual way of falling back into old routines was hurting, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You pulled into the parking lot of you and Jungkook’s favorite park you’d hangout at.  You pressed the brakes suddenly and aggressively bringing the car to a half.

“Woaah.” Jungkook giggled as he let out a tiny puff of smoke.

“You left.” You felt yourself about to explode.  Trying to hold it in was becoming impossible.

“You just LEFT.” You yelled the last word, startling him and making him cower back against the window.

“Y/n…” His eyes widened as he gave you his best puppy dog face, this was the first time you’d probably ever really yelled at him.  He’d been scolded plenty of times, but you were always soft on your Jungkook.  He didn’t deserve that though, you might not have been dating, but he’d broken your heart and you deserved an explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?  How could you just leave me without a word?” You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

It was silent in your car for a while.

Jungkook brought the last hit of his cigarette to his mouth shakily.

“No.” He shook his head, doing something that always gave you the chills. The way he could turn his cutesy eyes into stone cold daggers in an instant used to make your heart drop into your stomach.  Though right now you were a bit too worked up to feel anything but anger at him.

“No?”

“Yeah.  No.  I don’t need to tell you shit.” He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Right.” You huffed, sinking into your seat.  “Why would you.  Why would you tell your best friend what's going on in your life right?” you snapped and realized the words building inside had reached your tongue faster than your brain could tell you to stop.

“Though I guess maybe we never really were best friends? Maybe I just thought that because you hung around me so much.  But you never actually gave a shit about me did you?”

Jungkook’s eyes were widening and he was cowering further away from you.

“I would’ve done anything for you Jungkook, you know that? Died for you, killed for you.  Do you realize how many times I took the fall and got in trouble for things you did? And you just…let me.  You always just let me get hurt for you, let me ruin myself for you. And you never cared. And then you just...left.”

Your last words came out as a choked up whisper.

Jungkook was staring at the cigarette in his hand that had gone out, twirling it between his tattoo’d fingers and pursing his lips together tightly.

“Why’d you keep hanging around me then if you hated it so much.” He grumbled, seeming genuinely hurt by your words.

You sighed.  Hating that now you felt the need to comfort *him*. You shook your head.  No. He doesnt get to get away with that.

“I guess I don’t know.” You muttered glaring at him.

His eyes met yours for a moment but on seeing your anger they quickly flitted away.

“You seemed helpless.” You answered after a moment. “That's why.  I thought you needed me.  I thought I was helping you by being there for you.  I didn’t realize you were destroying me.”

At that Jungkook’s gaze was serious and direct at you.

“Destroying you?”

“Nevermind.  This was just a mistake.” You murmured starting to put your car into reverse to leave.  A large tattoo’d hand pressed onto yours stopping you.

“Hey.” He spoke seriously.

You stopped and looked over at him, already visibly exhausted from this conversation.

“Just…” He grabbed another cigarette from your pack and lit it, sucking in a large hit.  “I missed you, trust me.” he grumbled.

“Oh wow, well at least you missed me the four years you chose to not talk to me.” You hissed out slightly getting in his face, making him flinch back.

“I’m not gonna say sorry.” He whispered, his doe eyes staring at you intensely, his eyes flicking back and forth between your eyes and what seemed to be your lips.

Of course he’s not.  Of course he does know that's what you want.  You had an urge to grab his face in your hands and just shake some sense into him and scream ‘Why can’t you just have some normal human emotions you complete sociopath.’

Instead your body’s next choice of action was one that neither of you were expecting.

As if your lips were magnets, yours fell onto his quickly and perfectly, snapping the two of you in place together.  

You pulled back with a gasp, holding your lower lip between your thumb and index finger, feeling mortified at yourself.

Jungkook on the other hand had a smirk slowly growing on his face, his eyes mischievous, likely knowing this was his “in” back to your good side.  

The fact that you knew that's probably what he was thinking should’ve been enough to have you stop right there.  But the way his eyes were now scanning you up and down in admiration was too intoxicating, too addicting, you’d missed him too much.

“Do your seats still fold all the way down.” He pointed to your backseat with a chuckle.

You smacked his shoulder. “And why would that matter to you.” You teased, almost completely forgetting how angry you’d just been with him.  Damnit, how did he do that.

He shrugged with a knowing laugh, his eyes crinkling up cutely, bringing his still lit cigarette to his lips.  

“You wanna get even?” He glanced at the back seat again.

“Get even?”

“Yeah.” He winked “You seem like you’ve got a lot of pent up steam at me there.  I'm just suggesting some sanctioned punishment-” the corners of his lips curled up mischievously at the word. ”-so maybe you’ll feel a bit less upset at me.”

Bad idea.  Bad idea.  Those words were playing on a loop in your brain.

Trying to remind you of every bit of hurt and pain he’d caused you, and how if you slept with him, you knew that pain would only hurt worse the next time.

Jungkook was already getting out of the car and putting the seats of your station wagon down flat into a makeshift bed.

You had your fingers clenched tightly around your steering wheel, knuckles turning white.  This is Jungkook, not just a one night stand, not a new fling.  This is *Jungkook*.  You knew there was a higher chance than not that you’d be filled with regret after this.

But there he was now laying out in the back seat of your car, staring at you with a cute and enticing look.  “y/n.” He spoke sweetly.  “You can come punish me now” He winked.

You couldn’t deny to yourself how much you wanted him.

You took one more deep breath in and without taking another thought to it you rushed into the back seat with him.

He was laying on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“Took you long enough.” he teased.

Before he could say anything else you were on top of him, pushing him onto his back and pressing him to the seat with one hand and putting another one over his mouth.

“You’re definitely going to have to shut up.” You growled.  

His eyes lit up at the fire you’d shown him.  He’d never seen you like this before, his sweet y/n that always looked after him, looked out for him, picked him up every time he needed it.

He knew he fucked up.  But life itself was fucked up, nothing in life is fair and no one gets what they truly deserve.  Jungkook especially.  So why would he owe anyone an apology?

This was the best he could give to you.

He nodded, agreeing to be quiet for you.

You slowly let your hand fall from his mouth and replaced it with your lips, melting into him, you were kissing him like you’d been starved for it.  Your fingers started to tangle in his hair, messing it up and tugging slightly.  

Jungkook's hand reached around your waist, pulling you against him, moving down to your hips and trying to get you to grind against him.

You quickly reached down and grabbed his wrist, pinning it above his head and shaking your head slightly as you gave him a few more pecks.

“Don’t get greedy.  You can’t be patient after all this time?” You scolded.

He stuck out his lower lip in a pout, taking in the sight of you straddling him, looking down at him with a mix of emotions still flowing through you.  

You went back to kissing him, pinning his other hand above his head and after a bit, rewarding him by pressing your core down onto his and giving him the friction he’d wanted.

He let out a soft and needy whimper as you did.

You felt butterflies filling your stomach at his noise.  It was so gentle and sweet, and to know that you were the one making Jungkook feel this way was a sense of pride you’d never felt before.

You stacked his wrists one on top of the other and held them in one hand, your other hand now slipping between where your bodies met and palming him over his jeans.

He hissed out a sharp breath and a small “fuck” fell from his lips involuntarily.

“Does that feel good baby?” You teased him pulling back from your kisses and studying his face, knowing the answer was obvious.

He bit down on his lower lip and his eyes were clenched tightly as he nodded.

Your fingers fumbled slightly but didn’t take you too long to undo his jeans and slip your hand inside, now running your hand slowly along his length over his boxers.  His hips lifted slightly off of the seat, pressing up against your hand desperately wanting more.

At that you gave him a slight squeeze, causing him to yelp out.  His eyes were wide staring up at you.

“I said don’t get greedy.  Remember, this is supposed to be for me.” You chuckled at his disappointed face. “You’ve always been so fucking selfish and greedy.” You gently kissed his lips, before roughly taking his lower one between your teeth and biting harshly.

“Fuck.” he hissed, a small drop of blood now forming where you’d nipped at him, but he only seemed more hungry for you now.

You tugged on the hem of his pants and boxers. “Off now.” You demanded.

He wasted no time after you released his wrists, he tugged down his clothes, pulling up his shirt slightly and letting his length fall against his toned lower abs.

He was so beautiful, smiling up at you with a playful look.  It was an absolute joke for you to think you were actually in charge here.  You were wrapped around his finger and you always had been.

He looked absolutely mouthwatering.  But you didn’t want to let it get to his head.  This was supposed to be payback.

You went back to kissing him, that way you didn’t have to look at him, that way you didn’t risk saying the words that you shouldn’t...

With a free hand you took his length into your hand, letting the weight of him sit in your palm for a moment before slowly tickling your fingers up and down.  He twitched under your touch and his kisses faltered as he let out a small gasp.

“y/n no more teasing.” He moaned out.

“I thought I said shut up.” Your hand was back over his mouth, but you decided to indulge him for a moment, pumping your hand up and down his length a few times.  You could feel his moans vibrate against the palm of your hand still clamped down on his lips.

You let him go and slowly moved yourself down so that his cock was positioned right in front of your face.  Letting your tongue lay flat against the base with pressure you licked a long stripe up his cock.  When you got to the tip you flicked your tongue a few times right under his head.  His hips reflexively moved up at that, begging you to take him fully in your mouth.

Instead you “tsk’d” at him a few times, loosely holding his cock in your hand and not moving.

“It's no fun just sitting there waiting is it?” You asked. “How do you think I felt waiting for you for years.” You lightly slapped the tip of his cock with your hand not holding it.

“AH!” He yelled out “Hey!” he strained his neck to be able to give you a shocked expression.

“Too far?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying back down.  “No.  No it's not that I don’t like it.” He chuckled. “Just...it's you.  I never thought you’d be like this in bed.”

You were suddenly moving up to face him, your hand grabbing the sides of his neck tightly. “You don’t know me anymore.” You growled.  “You made sure of that by cutting me out of your life for four fucking years.” your grip on his neck tightened slightly before you released him.  

He gasped in a deep breath when you pulled away, looking up at you in awe.  

You moved your hand back between his legs now pumping quickly, twisting over his head when you’d get to it.  You ate up every moan that you pulled from his lips, they were yours, you’d caused every single one and they were yours to keep forever.

Right before it looked like he was going to cum, you pulled your hand away, leaving his cock untouched and throbbing.

“No..” He whimpered, “Please please.” His needy whines were so cute.

“But why should you get to cum?” You teased him.

He pouted dramatically. “Y/n…” He spoke sweetly “Cuz you love me. Make me cum because you love me.” He smiled a wide and precious smile.

Fuck.

Your mouth hung open at his words.  Of course he knew you loved him.

All the easier to use you.

Because that made it all the harder for you to say no to him.

Letting your forehead rest against his, you brought your hand back to his length, letting your fingers drag against his soft skin as you gripped him.  

You could see a small smirk on his face, as his breathing became even more unsteady, his moans catching in his throat as he panted heavily.

“Oh my god that feels so fucking good.” He groaned out. “Fuck.” His hands were gripping the back of the front seat that his head was pressed up against, his muscles flexing as he tightened his grip unable to contain how good you were making him feel.  

His abs were clenched and his hips were lifting off of the seat for you as he desperately fucked himself into your hand.

“I-I’m cumming.” He gasped out, his eyes met yours as he came, his mouth falling completely open and noises resembling your name were being muttered as his hips jerked and his cock twitched in your hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

You didn’t stop moving your hand around him, waiting for him to get so sensitive that he had to pull your arm away, both of you laughing.

You rolled over next to him, turning your head to face his.  

He was facing the top of the car, eyes closed and he had a big smile on his face, seeming very satisfied with himself.

“Even?” He finally opened his eyes, turning to you with a bright grin.

You chuckled.

It probably would be asking too much to expect Jungkook to see the flaw in his logic here.  Once again, he’d gotten you to give him everything, for nothing in return, and he wanted to call that his apology.

You shook your head at him.

“No.  But I do feel a little better.”

He nodded, seeming to somehow take that as a positive.

“You’re good at that.” He sat up, taking his shirt off and using it to wipe off his stomach.

“Thanks…” You muttered.  Here it was, the regret setting in.  The feelings of ‘what the fuck did I just do’.  Even worse was the feeling of knowing now that you had, all he had to do was say the word, and you’d be right back there again.

You exited the backseat of the car quickly, rushing to grab a cigarette from your glove compartment, your fingers shaky as you brought the lighter up to the tip.  Flicking it many times but not getting a flame.

“Fuck!” You yelled, chucking the lighter as far as you could, managing to make it over a fence and into the park.  

Jungkook had just gotten out of the back seat in time to witness your little display.  He didn’t say anything, simply grabbing another lighter from the front seat along with a cigarette for himself and walking it over to you.

You let him light your cigarette and the two of you stood for a minute in silence.

“Does this mean you’re actually back…” You whispered softly, almost not wanting to even ask, not wanting to know if it wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

Maybe Jungkook knew that.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything at all.

He never told you he loved you, he didn’t even try and make you feel loved.

Maybe it was good that way, it might make it a bit easier when he leaves again.

Maybe it was better that way, it was kinder than being lied to.

[diablo-that-first-spark]

I'm trying to figure out what kind of angel is Eli and he might be a Bravery and because Eli has two big swords and also all the demons and all of the prime evils are afraid and scared of Eli because he is the most powerful and strongest angel and he is not afraid to kill the prime evils and until Eli was exiled from The high heavens to a another universe and he was stuck on Ethan and he meets my OCS and after Eli was exiled His friend Tyrael was upset and sad to see his friend Eli to be exiled from the high heavens

Also here is a picture of Eli with his swords

(also going to make a post Soon when I get out of school and how Eli got his swords)

If it is advice you seek on how to create characters, I am happy to help! :)

However, I can only give advice on how I personally tackle the task, I cannot get inside your head. I can see our styles differ greatly, but it might still be useful to you in some way.

The allure to create all-powerful OCs who are the best at everything is always a strong one, and we have all done it before. However, with experience (ideally) comes a realization that perfect characters are boring at best, and downright infuriating at worst. Unfortunately it is a trap many people fall into, even professional writers, if the crap that is on tv and in comics lately are any indication, dear lord...

The thing is that people relate most strongly to character traits, struggles and learning. Not power levels. You bet I have no physical similarities at all with Tyrael (hell I don’t even know how to hold a sword properly), yet I relate greatly to his journey of leaving everything he knew behind and taking a plunge into an unknown new life, so that he may be able to do what he feels is right. This is a rule I always do my best to hold myself to, and I really do believe it should be a universal rule, even when one creates a character just for fun. I have plenty of “OCs” that will never see the light of day, whom I only created for fun but I did not forget to give them failings and opportunities to learn. You can still have fun while making them more human.

I take it by "Bravery" you meant "Valor", which means Eli is/was an underling of Imperius, right? Making Eli the strongest angel, when it is canonically Imperius who is the mightiest warrior, and making the Prime Evils fear Eli, even though the Evils fear absolutely no one because they are blinded by their bloodthirst and power hunger - these are a thin ice to tread on, in my opinion. If you have seen the animated short “Wrath”, you know that Archangels aren’t actually afraid of executing the Evils, but they understand (except Imperius) that killing them isn’t always the best course of action in a war.

Imagining weapons and powers is hella fun, I will never deny it. But it is even more fun to imagine how those powers would actually hinder the character, create conflicts and obstacles he has to overcome (Quiet). Or another route - make the character weak, his skills limited and then make him solve a problem creatively with only the available tools, no insane powerups (Lyndon and his limited Nephalem powers). There are two reasons why I chose to make Quiet a child in my story:

To give Inarius a proper new chance and clean slate.

To make sure he is relatable. Had he been an adult from the start, with all of the Worldstone’s power at his disposal, he would have  been incredibly difficult to make relatable or even interesting. His journey to adulthood is (hopefully) a much more human trait anyone can understand, even if the end result inevitably will be a “god among men”.

Everybody loves a hero who earned his powers. Sadly, modern day writers often do not understand this. But it is never too late to learn it. :)

Now I understand it is all advanced stuff in character writing. I get it. We all want to have fun and to try out crazy insane ideas with no restrictions or “rules”. Thankfully with more experience one can learn to combine insane fun ideas with relatability. It doesn’t hurt to strife for that from as early as you can. I’m sure you will learn, and I hope I could give some pointers. ^^

In the end, have fun, go crazy, and I wish you the best of luck with character creating! :D

2022.04.22.