#i wrote it literally just like 2 mins ago

[froggowivdagudvibes]

[candyriku]

Working on my ice skating AU, here's a lil preview (this is like the start of chapter 2). I know it's sacrilege to have Sora and Riku be estranged in any way, but in this AU they ARE, okay. I felt like writing about them being messy and emotionally damaged people so here is Riku being messy (and plenty of Sora being messy will follow) :-)

“Are you serious?” Riku demands, his voice coming across more aggressively than he means it. “Skate with him?”

Aqua looks from Riku to Sora and frowns. “Do you know him? Is there some kind of issue?”

Does he know Sora? Of course he does. They were childhood friends, then something more, then nothing at all. But he can’t tell Aqua that, nor does he want to relive the last time he saw Sora, his trembling hands in his hair, their lips brushing together before Sora made a hasty retreat and disappeared from his life entirely. 

Sora’s eyes haven’t left his shoes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…” he ventures, and somehow this makes Riku feel even worse. Sora is giving him an out, and he can't stand it. He wants to hate Sora for it, but it feels more and more like he hates himself. He should have never kissed Sora in the first place. He deserves the two years of silence he’s endured ever since.

“Look, Riku, I’ll say it one last time in case it’s not getting through that thick skull of yours. Either skate pairs, ice dance - which also requires a partner, or drop the sport entirely. If you want to do anything outside of those three options, I won’t coach you. And although it’s your decision, if you keep skating solo, I hope you know you're digging your own grave.”

“Fine,” Riku snaps, looking away from Sora. “I’ll try skating with him. But we both know he’ll only slow me down. This will end my career and yours.” He’s being unfair and he knows it, but the idea of Aqua deciding his future for him feels unbearable. Shouldn’t it be up to him? Yes, he’s injured, but injuries heal. He shouldn’t have to adjust his entire life because of one tiny stress fracture. 

“Sora won’t slow you down. He’s just as skilled as you are.” Aqua says firmly, crossing her arms.

Riku wants to argue, but he’s spent most of his life in the same rink as Sora and knows it’s true. Still, skating solo is something Riku doesn’t want taken from him. It’s his escape, his time for himself, his form of self-expression. Having another person - even if it’s Sora - encroach on that feels wrong. Figure skating is a sport about the performer and the performer alone. It’s his own personal artform. To share it is to lose his identity as a skater altogether. 

“I don’t skate with social media showboats” he spits. This, too, is unfair, and he only knows of Sora’s popularity online because he’s pathetically kept up with him after Sora moved away, forever watching videos of him skate with a mixture of longing and nausea. Sora skates expressively, beautifully, in a way Riku himself can’t quite replicate, because Sora has always been the better of the two of them when it comes to self-expression. Riku is just a miserable person pretending to be something he’s not. At least Sora is authentically himself all the time, even online. 

Everything in Riku’s brain tells him to stop making such a scene and just accept this new paradigm. But his heart aches with loss - loss of his solo career, loss of his dignity, loss of his autonomy, loss of this world he’s built for himself where he can pretend he never fell disastrously in love with his childhood best friend. He freezes when he sees the expression on Sora’s face. 

“I just post for fun,” Sora says softly, biting his lip. “I’ll stop posting while we're training, if that'll make you feel-”

“It’s fine,” Riku says. “Do what you want. It doesn’t concern me.”

[peterparkersnose]

Give In

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: suicidal thoughts, pining possibly one sided, ANGST (just a large angst piece, i wanted some joel angst so I made it), description of depression, emotional dependency on a person, arguing, fluff sprinkled in, implied age gap not specified, reference to pregnancy, mentions of substance and alcohol abuse, joel is lowkey toxic and uses reader

a/n hi loves I wrote this after the first episode aired, so if anything contradicts anything in the future in this story that is why. also, i didnt know how to end it so im sorry if the ending is a bit choppy. happy last of us sunday!

summary Y/N has feelings for Joel that she can’t control anymore

Part 2 here

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 8 min 33 seconds

The harsh chill of the autumn afternoon swept your hair off your shoulders. The ration line was as long as ever, but seemed to be moving quickly. A stray dog barked as others murmured on the street. Staring down at your boots, you bit at your chapped lips.

“You’ve been avoiding me,”

His voice sent chills up your spine. He was behind you, must have slipped in line without the other person noticing. Of course now was the time he decided to confront you. And he wasn’t wrong.

Straightening your back, you turn towards him.

“Have I?” you asked, raising your eyebrows slightly. The line moved forward and so did you.

“Tess said you weren’t feeling well.”

She was partially right. It was the blatant lie you were telling the very few who were close to you. You were physically fine.

“I’m fine, Joel.” you said promptly, turning a cold shoulder to the older man.

“If you need any meds or anything…” he began. You knew Joel had anything you needed. Quite literally.

“Next!” The FEDRA soldier called, motioning for you to get in the final line. You gave Joel a tight lipped smile before disappearing in the crowd.

Back at your sad excuse for an apartment, you poked your fork at your stale meal. You tried to think about todays’s job but the thought of Joel Miller consumed you.

How his hands felt on your skin, how soft his hair could be, how much he respected you in private. Flashbacks of previous nights where he had snuck over and stayed with you burned in your brain.

You never thought the hookup would turn in to feelings. Especially in this world. Feelings you were sure he wouldn’t reciprocate. Joel wasn’t a very emotionally available man. And he had Tess- rumors of them being together had been going on for years. Sure, they deny it. But you see the way he looks at her sometimes. His eyes burn with the lust you want from him, but there staring at her.

Tess was friendly and all, you got along quite well with her in fact. Jobs worked with Tess usually went better than others. But the knowledge that she goes home to him every night almost ate you alive. You felt used every time you would watch her turn the alleyway to their apartment.

Roommates my ass.

It had been over a month since the last time you saw Joel.

He was right, you were avoiding him. Taking the jobs you knew he wouldn’t dare go by such as childcare. Taking a different route home to avoid any run ins. Leaving your lights off and sitting in the dark to possibly deter him away from your place. All your little queues worked.

And the pain grew day by day.

You layed in your mattress with your face buried in your pillow. It stopped smelling like him weeks ago, but you liked to pretend it still did.

You couldn’t live like this anymore.

Pills weren’t numbing enough. Alcohol wasn’t as fun as it used to be. The constant state of depression in this damned district was enough to make you want to end it.

But seeing him across the alleyway talking to a group of people or in the line for rations was enough to keep that tiny spark lit inside of you.

There wasn’t much else to look forward to in this world besides others. Living the same day your whole life is miserable without your spark of joy in it.

Sleep was close, you could feel it. Your thin blankets were just cutting it for the night. As the dreams began to dance in your head, you were awoken by a quiet knock on your door.

“For fucks sake,” you groaned, flipping over in bed. You ignored the knocks. They became more persistent.

The old doorknob then dropped to the floor, startling you awake. You didn’t even have to guess who it was. The door slowly creaked open as you heard him curse to himself.

“I’ll fix it later,” he sighed, picking it off your floor and placing it on your countertop. He pushed one of your folding chairs next to your table up against the door to keep it sturdy.

“So your just breaking into apartments now?” you snapped, sitting up right in bed. “I needed to see you.” he protested.

“I never knew Joel Miller to need anything.”

He sighed and rested against your countertop. “I need to know,”

“Know what?” you asked, wrapping a blanket around your exposed shoulders. A tank top wasn’t ideal to sleep in, in these conditions.

“What’s wrong.” he said bluntly. “I said there’s nothing wrong. What the hell are you doing walking around freely at night?” you yelled, realizing the time was way past midnight. The sounds of soldiers a few floors down outside your apartment began to yell. How did he move past them?

“You sick?” he asked in a more hushed tone, walking towards you. “Respiratory? Head pain? Joints? You pregnant?” he somewhat joked, looking over you in bed.

“Shut up.” you said coldly. “Can you please just go?”

You knew Joel wasn’t a good listener. “What is it?” he said sternly, sitting down next to your body in bed. He grabbed your wrist ever so slightly. Your pulse was shaking in his grasp.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You looked at the other side of your apartment, out the window. Rain had began to slowly plague the window. Ignoring Joel’s touch, you watched as the few drops raced to the bottom of the window.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Joel sighed, not letting go of you.

“Stop, please. J-just stop talking to me.” you said, lying through your teeth. He could sense the pain hiding behind those eyes. “I’m not leaving.” he protested.

“Look at me.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were locked on yours. A genuine worried look was on his face. He looked softer, nothing like you had ever seen before.

It was almost as if someone asked you if you were okay when you were very obviously not. Silent tears rolled down your face as you tried to catch your breathe.

The man who you couldn’t love was staring in to your soul. There was no way you ever could love him. He was too mean, too stern, too old, too angry for you. The two of you were polar opposites. But as the saying goes, ‘opposites attract’.

Joel was unsure on what to do. Tess never cried. Hell, you never cried. He racked his brain for something, just something to soothe you.

He offered out a hand. Against your better judgement you took it. Connecting his other hand to your cheek, he tried to wipe away the streak of tears silently leaving your eyes. He held you tightly in your bed, stroking your hair as your head quickly made contact with the crook of his neck.

“I wish I didn’t have these feelings,” you cried into his embrace. Joel was confused on what you were getting at, but he ignored it. He tried to shush you in a soothing way.

“No, please. I wish I didn’t have these feelings… but I do.”

Joel froze. “What?” he asked, holding you in place.

You pulled back and looked at him. It felt like the first time over again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel a thing.” you hiccupped.

“I…” Joel sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and letting a breathe of air go.

“Say it.” you demanded.

The silence in the room was deafening.

“I can’t.” Joel said quickly. He looked down at his knees on your mattress.

“I think you should go.” you sighed, laying back on your side and facing the opposite wall.

He listened. Finally, Joel caught a hint. The sound of him walking away made you long for him more than ever. But it was good. The feeling of him leaving, knowing you were right. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who could love. At least not anymore.

Your sudden pride stopped when you heard his boots thud against the floor. Then the all familiar zip of his jeans followed by the hit of him placing them on your wooden chair next to your bed.

He rested a hand on your thigh as he peeled up the blanket that was stuck to your legs. Slowly, he moved down next to you in the tiny space you were leaving him.

“You don’t listen.” you huffed, still not giving him enough space on the bed.

“When do I ever?” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Fuck it. You gave in.

You allowed his arm to move closer to the underside of your breasts. Scooting over in bed, you gave him more space for his legs to entwine with you. His boxer’s material rubbed against the back of your thigh. It smelt like him; Wet grass and expired generic soap scent had never smelt better.

Sleep kindly greeted you once you felt his breathing slow. Trying to match his, you fell into the deep sleep you had been yearning for, for what seemed like weeks.

-

The absence in the morning was startling.

You struggled to move, hoping that the previous night was just a horrifying dream. A sigh escaped from your lips when you saw his boots sitting against the wall where he placed them last night.

The clanking sound of tools made you turn. On the other side of your small studio apartment, there he sat at your doorframe attempting to fix your door handle.

The overcast sky stayed, but you could tell it was early morning by the chatter outside.

“Shit!” Joel hissed, grabbing his finger in pain. “Damn fucking…”

He looked up and noticed you watching him.

“You alright?” you asked, watching him in amusement as he attempted to fix your door.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sucking the tip of his finger. “Haven’t fixed a door in a good twenty years.” he muttered, wiping off the excess blood on his already dirtied jeans.

“Go back to bed, It’s still early.” he suggested, going through the tiny tool kit he had given you as a previous gift.

“This is more entertaining than sleep,” you chuckled, placing your feet on the cold ground and getting out of bed. “You want any breakfast? I don’t know if I have anything good here but…”

“Nah. Tess’l be expecting me.”

The sheer thought of Tess waiting at their home for him was enough to ruin the whole night you had before.

Joel looked up to you after your lack of a response. He noticed the demeanor change in your face. “Everything okay?” he asked, turning back to the doorknob he was almost finished fixing.

“You seem to go sour every time I mention Tess.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered under your breathe, attempting to open a tuna can for breakfast. You tried not to dry heave as the scent of the old fish met your nose. Tuna was never a favorite meal, especially for breakfast. But, it’s all you had.

Joel pretended like he didn’t hear you, but he heard you loud and clear. “We have a run to do today. You understand that, right?”

A bitter ‘mhm’ came from your lips as you shook the prepackaged coffee in your hand before ripping off the seal.

Joel sighed and placed the screw driver down dramatically. Joel’s knees cracked as he got up from his position. “You always gotta fucking act jealous. Don’t you? Ruinin’ a nice morning.”

“Jealous?” you said, raising your voice.

“What the hell do you even want from me?” you scorned, on the brink of tears. He could see through you like glass. You hated to admit it, but he knew you like the back of his hand.

Joel wished he could shout out the answer, but his ego kept it in.

You froze with your back turned to him and set down the brittle coffee mug. “Your always leaving me to go to her…”

“Because we’re business partners, Y/N. Don’t you get it? Don’t you hate livin’ the same damn day over and over again? It’s why I come to see you.”

“Stop,” you whispered, now face to face with him. “Stop yelling. Please, it’s too fucking early to get into that shit.”

“Really? Tell me you don’t loose your mind living the same day, same drama for years!” he yelled. “Always you being jealous. Don’t you ever get sick of it?”

Anger consumed you. Proof that the two of you would never work. He’s just a bitter old man.

“You know I would give anything to leave this damn QZ! To live a normal life, not fucking be here.” you yelled, with a finger now pointed at his face. You were avoiding the original accusation. Jealousy.

“Tell me.” you said, with a quieter but angrier tone. “Am I really just your fuck toy?”

Joel stepped back for a moment, stunned at what you just said. Guilt seemed to wrack his nerves as the realization hit him.

You were in love with him.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, approaching you with a sorrowful more soft look. “What else am I supposed to think? You come here, use me, and leave and go back to her.”

The feeling of letting go of all that emotion felt healing. The sudden aftermath of realizing what you just had accused him of made you feel somewhat guilty.

“No,” he sighed, grabbing your hand. “That- no. Absolutely not Y/N.”

His other hand reached for your chin, and brought your face up to his gaze. You could feel his heat on your skin.

“Understand…” he began to say. “Understand what?” you whispered back. A sly smile came to his lips.

“Give in,” he whispered, dropping your hand and wrapping his around your waist.

You melted into his grasp as he kissed you. Joel hadn’t kissed anyone in years. The hesitation from him only brought out the dominance in you.

As the two of you mutually pulled away, you wanted nothing more as to be back where you were just seconds ago.

“Understand that it’s hard.” he said, still holding you close. “I…”

“I know.” you said, cutting off his words.

You were an anxious, sorrowful over-thinker and he was the bitter, closed off introvert.

“I’ll be back,” he said, with a slighter more chipper tone. “Tonight. We have to get this damn car battery and…”

“Stay safe,”

“I promise.” Joel said. He really did not want to leave you. The thought of the two of you spending today lazily in bed was very tempting.

“But please believe me Y/N when I say, you are and never have been just a ‘fuck toy’.”

He squeezed your hand once more and then dropped it. Silence filled the apartment after he left.

The thought of how you tasted haunted Joel Miller’s mind the whole day.

Part 2

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25

[huexuri]

okay, first of all, I'M SO SORRY FOR SPAMING YOUR INBOX😭😭 anywayyyy

best friends reader and soobin where soobin has a crush on some random girl, but he's a total loser and he knows it, so he asks reader for help... and she totally misunderstood him and thought he's way after the flirting stage and now just wants to fuck with his crush... so she invites him over and decides to teach him how to finger a girl.......on herself. soobin doesn't have an idea what he's doing, but his long as fuck fingers are enough to make reader cum!!!! it all ends up with soobin confessing that reader is his crush lmaooo (omg i got carried away and wrote DEFINITELY too much)

FINALLY DOING THIS ONE🔥🔥 ur genius bro

· show me - fem!reader x soobin ·

SMUT, MDNI!!!

warnings: fem!reader, cnc, friends to lovers, dry humping, fingering, that's probably it

*ding!*

you're in your room, slumped in your office chair, rushing and stressing about the pile of assignments in your inbox that has been assigned by your lecturer since 3 weeks ago. so you almost lose your shit when you hear a notification followed by a buzz from the phone beside you. "who the actual fuck is messaging me at 2 fucking am?" you muttered to yourself. but your gaze on the phone screen — being the only thing emitting light in your eyestrain of a room, softened when you realize it was a text message from your boy best friend — soobin.

"girl, i seriously CANNOT." - soobie boobie, 1 min ago.

you look at the notification in utter confusion — this message without context could mean a bunch of different things.

you click on the notification and reply:

"what's up w u??????"

"there's this girl yhat i like bruh,.... and then like i need to get her to confirm,,,,,,,that she likesme u knwo???SOS????????"

you almost don't understand whatever the shit he's saying because of the typos, but you do know that he's a fucking loser, and that all he wants to do is lose his virginity to some girl he likes.

"u want tips?????" you replied.

"no shit, how tf do i get her to even think of me🙏🙏" soobin replies, followed by "ur a girl u should know what makes a girl like you happy"

"okay so like..... just come over rn and ill teach u everything u need to know to pleasure tf out of yo girl" you suggest.

"COMINGGGGGG" he texts back, so you continue your work while waiting for him.

"open ur door"

he texted you again after what felt like hours, and immediately you shut your computer and put ur notes aside — immediately jumping out of bed and running to the front door.

"come on, let's go to my room." you said to him as he nodded and followed you to your room.

you sat down on your bed and patted the empty space beside you, indicating him to sit down. he follows suit, and looks at you with expectancy.

"okay, soobin, so first thing to do is that you need her wrapped around your finger right?" you sigh.

"yes, obviously." he replies — thinking you didn't literally mean it by "wrapped around your finger" and assuming you were talking about the saying, so imagine the shock that replaces the expectant look on his face when you start stripping in front of him — looking at him with confusion as if you didn't just flash him with the sight of your bare pussy.

"what?? you wanted her wrapped around your finger, so i'm gonna teach you???" you replied.

"n-no, not like th–..... nevermind." he'd soon change his mind when he decides that he does prefer this much more than regular advice.

you sit, now facing him with your legs wide open and clit wide open on display for him. of course you're pretending that you have no idea why he's so shocked — you know he wanted regular advice, but who can say that he'd deny the view in front of him? you desperately needed someone to fuck you. wasn't this basically the perfect opportunity?

soobin, lips slightly parted — still looking up and down on you in shock, tent that wasn't there a minute ago growing in his pants. you grab his wrist—

"so, your fingers, preferably this and this finger — will go in, and then curl upwards, but make sure not to scratch the inner lining of the vagina." you tried to say as seriously as possible, "i'll show you, wait." you continued.

"oh, u-uh, okay," soobin replied, holding on back to your wrist instead.

using your free hand, you insert one finger up you, then the other and thrust it further in— letting out a loud, lewd gasp at that, then curling your fingers up and straight up moaning at the feeling.

"l-like that, do that, now.. haa.. it's your t-turn,," you slowly slid your fingers out of you, licking your arousal.

"okay, uhm,," soobin's face grew hot as he broke apart the grasp on your wrist.

his slender fingers hesitantly start to play with your walls, then slowly he inserts his middle finger into you — making you stutter as his one finger feels like two of yours, noting the size and length difference of his girthy but still slender fingers compared to yours who is half the length.

he slides another finger in, and that's enough for you to let out another heavy sigh.

he looks at you with concern, but when you ask him to, "now, curl, soobin." he doesn't hesitate to curl his fingers up and suddenly you start to moan for more.

soobin starts positioning himself so he can hump the bed while fingering you.

"a-are you sure i can do this to you?" soobin softly said, repeating the same move you taught him.

"please, fuck yes, soobin. play around if you want.." you sighed.

now as if soobin had years of experience– no, a fucking degree in fingering, he'd start to finger-fuck you, making this feel better than any of the times you'd finger yourself. your fingers feel so pathetic in comparison to what his long and veiny fingers can do to you — and soon, he's rubbing your wet clit with one thumb and fingering you with three fingers with the other, all while humping the bed, his sweatpants looking as if it's about to explode because of how big he is against the thin fabric.

"oh shit, fuck y-yyhh-yes... soobin, fuck... more... please, please,,, ngh—" your hips start to jitter, your eyes start to water and your knees are trembling as it's wrapped around his back.

"like that, like that? do you like it? feels—fuck,, feels good??" soobin softly asks, his cheeks glowing red and leaving a wet spot, maybe drool or his precum on the bed.

"fuck soob—you're doing sso...good.."

"mmh, is this what g-girls like? w-what you, you–y-ff-fuck, fuck.... shit.. you're really so... sso hot like this,," soobin's voice cracking and raspy, sounding like he's close.

"soobin, i'm cumming 'm ssso.. close."

"shit, i'm also... gonna... ngh—fuck—oh god—"

"you make me feel so fucking good, fuck,,!" tears streaming down the sides of your eyes as you slowly drench his entire hand in your slick, spurts of semen also seeping thru his sweatpants material.

you both pant loudly and fall on your backs against the mattress — his 3 fingers slipping out of you with a wet pop sound.

you immediately suck one of his fingers covered in your arousal, leaving him to taste you on the other two.

"soobin?" you tiredly turn your head to his direction, chest still rising up and down.

"yeah?" he swiftly says, almost sounding like a sigh.

"who's that girl that you like?" you say, now in more envy in your voice than ever before.

"it's you." soobin simply splurts out with no hesitation.

"oh.."

"what's with that oh?" soobin asks you, now slightly worried.

"honestly, same. i just didn't expect it to be me."

soobin softly smiles at you.

"can i say that i love you now?" soobin said in between heavy breaths.

"yeah."

"i love you."

"i love you too.." you smile back at him. he shuts his eyes, and the both of you doze off.

[jakescaravel]

Secret Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 2,677

Warnings: smut, fingering, dom Jake, slight orgasm denial, dirty talk, alluding to threesomes, this is part 1 and as always 18+ MDNI!!! I literally wrote this today in like 30 mins so it’s lightly edited so sorry if it literally doesn’t make sense lmao

Jake had said it about 2 hours ago. The drunken confession of his secret fantasy had slipped out of him. Just the one word; ‘threesome’ made your heart drop in anger and betrayal. How could he even suggest that? Did he just want to be able to fuck some other girl? Were you not enough?

You had been so mad that you'd stormed off to sleep in the guest room, and he had left you alone since, knowing you needed some time. He really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings and he felt terrible, but the damage was done.

As you lay there in the unfamiliar bed, cold without the warmth of him, you don’t know whether to cry or to punch a wall. A million thoughts race through your mind, thoughts that you’ve never thought about since being with him. Thoughts of insecurity, and it felt horrible. You had always known how much he loved you, he made a point of showing you every chance he got, but now, everything feels unsure.

Soon your eyelids begin to droop and sleep threatens to take you over but you hear the door softly creak open. Even though you’re faced away from the door, you see the thin sliver of light poke through the dark room. You pretend to be asleep so he’ll leave you alone but he knows you're awake. He’s been watching you through the little hole next to the key, maybe a little creepy but he wanted to make sure you were okay, and confirm that you were awake.

He slides into the room so quietly that you can’t even be sure he's there until you feel his weight on the bed next to you. Still you pretend to be asleep, not aware that he knows you're bluffing.

The blanket isn’t covering you given that you’ve always run hot, so your legs are bare, and only one of his oversized shirts covers you.

He reaches his hand out and drags it over your exposed thigh. The touch is so soft and so simple yet it makes you instantly crave more. You curse him for having this power over you. Having the ability to pull you out of your anger and make you want him. You wish you could stay strong and tell him to go away but instead you let him snake his hand down and trace over the thin layer of cotton covering your cunt. Your legs part on their own accord and you hiss through your teeth.

“Faker.” He whispers right against your ear. His raspy voice pulls a shudder from you and you turn to face him. His lips are so close to yours that you almost lean in, just to feel how soft they are, but looking at his face brings back the emotions from earlier so you move away from his touch.

His hands press into you harder and you whine into the quiet room. You open your legs for him, you just simply can’t resist, you're not strong enough so you let him touch you, it feels too good. 

“I know you're upset with me baby.” Fuck. The pet name, the way it drifts off his tongue, laced with sex. The way his lips curl into a smile as if he’s teasing you for being upset in the first place. 

When you don’t stop him, his hands slip further down, massaging the skin on the inside of your thigh. His fingers brush against your core with every move and you buck your hips up in protest, asking for more. 

He’s already winning, already pulling you into a world he knows you can’t resist, but you must know the answer to the thought that’s been plaguing your mind.

“Am I not enough for you Jake? Is that why you want some other girl in our bed?”

His lips part and his eyes look hurt, he can’t believe you’ve gotten it so wrong. 

“No…. no.. that's not what it is at all. Is that really what you thought?” He laughs at the idea, so crazy in his mind.

“Don’t laugh at me.” Your words turn into a moan when he presses his hand against your covered clit. This time he really does laugh at you, at how easily you're falling apart at his mercy and he’s hardly touching you. It's adorable.

When your eyes narrow, full of anger, he leans forward and plants a kiss right to your lips, your face softens when he pulls away.

You search his face, desperate for some kind of answer as to why. So you ask, “so then why Jake?”

He just looks at you for a moment smiling, a genuine sweet smile. It steals your heart, just like the Jake you know always does. He curls his fingers into the waistband of your panties silently asking permission to remove them. When you give a slight nod, he pulls them down your body, left to rest around your ankles. 

Annoyed that he hasn’t given you an answer, you clench your thighs around his hand stopping his movements but instead he grabs your thighs roughly pulling them open. He traces a finger from your clit to your entrance, moving it in little circles, just to tease. You lift your hips up, desperate for him to give you what you want, to slip his finger inside, but he doesn’t move an inch.

“Come on Jake, touch me.”

“I thought you were mad at me.” He smirks when you roll your eyes at him. He knows he's won.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Finally he slips his finger into you, curling upwards. You tilt your head back at the sudden pleasure. With his free hand he pulls your chin down so that you’re facing him once more, forced to stare into his eyes. He lifts his finger out and pushes two back in, pumping slow deep strokes. He repositions himself so that he’s laying down next to you, his face inches away from yours, but his hand never falters. He curls his fingers inside you and your body jerks closer to him as a moan falls from your lips, right against his ear. 

A low groan rumbles out of him, the sound of it bringing you closer. You can’t even be mad at him anymore with the way his fingers are working you. Knowing you so well, where you like to be touched, and exactly how to do it. With every passing second, the band inside you stretches and stretches threatening to snap but Jake stays steady, moving in and out. 

He leans forward and whispers, “this feels good right?” You nod as another sound escapes you.

He moves his other hand to trace circles over your clit.

“Fuck.”

He smiles and applies more pressure to your sensitive bud. The mix of the delicate touch of his calloused finger and his digits flowing in and out of you feel like heaven. You can feel his breath on your cheek, smell his cologne right next to your nose and hear his little words of praise.

“That’s a good girl. This feels even better right? You like when I touch you in both places?”

You nod again, closing your eyes in concentration, feeling the band begin to unravel. “Look at me.” His harsh tone snaps you out of your dream-like state and you open your eyes to look back at him. 

“Say it.”

“I like it… when you touch me like this, feels so fucking good Jake.” He hums and begins to work you faster. 

“You’re so warm, baby, so wet. You’re just sucking my fingers in, coating them. I bet you taste so good, so sweet. After I make you cum I’m gonna lick my fingers clean.” 

His words, so dirty, spoken in his raspy sweet voice, pull you in even farther and your hips begin to match his rhythm. He lets you fuck yourself onto his fingers and curls them even tighter, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“Wish I could feel you with my cock. I bet you would feel so good, so fucking tight. I’m so fucking hard right now, just watching you take it, hearing you moan and whine just because of my fingers. I could make you fall apart even faster with my cock, wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Please” you whine out, now desperate to feel him fill you, stretch you out even more.

“Please what love? Need to hear you say it.”

“Please Jakey, your cock, I want it.” He thinks he's hidden it well but you hear his breath softly catch in his throat. Hearing you beg for his cock is the hottest thing he could hear, and he wants it, badly.

“No. You’re gonna cum on my fingers.”

“I’m so close, Jake. Please, make me cum.”

He leans forward and kisses you. The softness of his lips is intoxicating. He slips his tongue past your lips and you hum around him. You reach your hand up to stroke through his soft hair, slightly pulling at the root. He pulls away and stares at you, so close to your face that you can feel the warmth.

And then he stops his movements all together, pulling his hand out and setting back the tension he's been building up.

“What the fuck Jake, put them back.” Your hips search for him but are met with nothing.

“You like the way my fingers feel right?” He asks as he pushes them back into you, much too slowly.

“Yes, fuck, just keep going.”

“And you like it when I use both my hands?” 

“Yes, feels so fucking good.”

“God, you sound so needy. So desperate for me to make you cum, so impatient. You know I'll get you there, just relax.” He cups his other hand around your clit, just holding it there and you push your hips up to meet him, slowly grinding against his hand as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. 

“Wish I could see your pretty tits love. I wanna feel them. I wanna feel you everywhere, touch you everywhere, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yeah, feel them.” You say lifting up your shirt for him.

“Fuck… you’re so gorgeous, so fucking perfect. But there’s only one problem, love. I’ve only got two hands. And they are both busy. But how good would it feel for me to touch you there.”

This fucker. I know what he’s doing. But it's working.

He leans his mouth down to draw your nipple into his mouth, he rolls his tongue over it as you press your body into his mouth.

He pulls away all too soon, moving back to whisper into your ear. “That felt good right?” 

“Yes.” You huff out impatiently.

“Close your eyes for a moment. Think about me fucking you, how good it feels, how perfectly I fill you up.”

You do as you're told and close your eyes. You imagine him fucking you, snapping his hips into you harder and harder with every thrust, similar to his hands but unmatched. Your back arches off the bed and a whimper falls off your tongue.

“Good girl. Now think about when I eat your pussy. How soft my tongue is, how hard you cum every single time. I love nothing more baby, you’re my favorite thing to eat. But you can’t have both of those at the same time right?” 

You shake your head. The thought of feeling a mouth on your cunt while being fucked is so obscene but you can’t get it out of your head. You want that, you need that.

You’re so close and he’s holding you on the edge You want badly to slip away, and cum all over his fingers but he’s going just slow enough so you listen to his every word. You hate that he’s making sense, you hate that maybe he’s right but fuck it feels so good and the ideas he’s planting in your head are pulling you further along.

“You know I would give you anything, in a second. You’re the only one for me, forever, I only want you baby. But I want to give you more. Give you things I can’t really give you. But somebody else could. How would you like to feel my cock and someone else's tongue? Maybe not as good as mine but fuck wouldn’t that feel just sooo good.”

He’s practically moaning into your ear and the sound of his voice is so sweet, with the visuals being so dirty. 

“Would you like that baby? Feeling my cock fucking into you while getting your pussy sucked? Wouldn't that feel good?”

“Fuck yes! Yes!” His foul words, the forbidden desire he's planted in your head pulls you over the edge and you’re cumming hard around his fingers. Your whole body shakes as he continues to pump in and out of you. You’re soaking his hand and the sheets in the process, but it doesn’t matter because all you feel is the pure pleasure that seems never ending. You can’t help the sounds that escape you as he pulls you further under. A mix of his name and other curses fall from your lips until they turn into soft whimpers as he slows his movements bringing you back down to earth.

With his fingers still inside you, he kisses along the length of your neck before speaking into your ear. 

“I love you. Only you. Forever. Nobody else. Just you, don’t you ever think otherwise. I want you to feel good baby, that’s all I ever want. I wanna have fun with you, alright?”

You nod and stare into his eyes longingly, they're so perfect, and you love them so much. Your heart swells as his words. How could you even think he would want someone else? Love someone else the way he loves you? What you guys have is magic, and you both know it.

He slowly removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips just like he promised. His tongue laps over them, licking them clean as he closes his eyes and hums around them.

The sight is so sinful, but so perfect. 

“There would have to be rules.” His face softens at your request. He’s won you over to his side.

“So many rules.” He kisses you softly. 

“I don’t want you to fuck her, thats only for me.” He nods his head in agreement.

“Of course. I don’t want that either, I only want your pussy, she’s mine.”

You smile at his confession. Maybe this could be fun. You’re shocking yourself with the ideas running through your head, but it's hot.

He pulls you into him so that you’re pressed against this chest. He strokes his hand over your hair and kisses your forehead.

“I get to pick who it is. And I don’t want you to eat her out.” You think for a moment. “You can touch her and she can touch you but I wanna be the one to make you cum. Okay?”

He nods his head.

“What about you, what are you gonna do?” He questions.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been with a girl.. I guess I could try… I've never… I’ve never eaten pussy before but it sounds kinda…” Your voice lowers, shyness suddenly overtakes you but you manage to finish your sentence; “… hot.”

He smiles at you with so much pride and his cock hardens even further against your stomach.

“Fuck, that might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said. Now I can’t get that image out of my head. You with your pretty mouth between some girl's thighs. Me behind you fucking you while you fuck her with your tongue… fuck.” 

You giggle at his words, starting to really picture it yourself too. 

After a couple minutes of quietly laying with each other, he picks you up and carries you into your bedroom with promises of talking more tomorrow.

That night you fall asleep tangled in each other's arms, minds racing with endless possibilities. 

.

.

.

.

Secret Fantasy 2

[bugboysgf]

Hate + Love

Chapter 2

series masterlist

Previous chapter

Summary: There is a thin line between love and hate but what if it's way thinner than you thought?

“Hi, im suppose to be tutoring somebody.” you told the lady at the front desk. The last 2 weeks had been stressful but out of extreme luck you managed to get all A’s but that also meant you had to tutor the people that were not doing so well in school.

“Oh yes, you must be Y/n.”

“I am.” you confirmed.

“Min Ho.” The lady calls his name and he jumps out of his seat.

“You gotta be kidding me.” you look at Min ho and he seems just as surprised as you are. “There has to be some sort of mistake, I can't tutor him.” the lady looks at her computer for a second and looks back at you.

“Sorry but there is a specific note from the teacher saying you can't switch.”

“What? Who wrote that.” you asked.

“It was your math teacher. Take a seat and get started.”

“I can't believe this.” you said sitting down.

“Do you think I want to do this? I have no choice.” Min ho rolled his eyes.

“Whatever can we just get started.”

After two hours tutoring you were done but to you i feel like 5 hours because every 10 minutes you and Min ho were arguing about something different.

“Thank you.” Min Ho says. You look at him in shock, you were never expecting those words to come out of his mouth.

“You have manners, I see. Can I get an apology too?” you asked hopefully.

“It happened almost 3 weeks ago, get over it.”

“God you're such a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one.”

—-

“We have Alex next.” Kitty said. “Oh my god we still have to walk up the stairs.” you said, you were tired already and it was only your 2 period.

“Do you want to go to a ramen place after the 5th period?” Kitty asked.

“Im Pretty sure I don't have to tutor today, so yes.”

“How is it? By the way, you are still not getting along.”

“Nope now i have to sit with him in alex class, because he wont let me change seats.” you rolled your eyes.

“Dude you have 4 months left until winter break, at least try to stop hating each other.”

“He's the problem, not me, he won't apologize. He said thank you yesterday when i tutored him but that's it.” you explained to Kitty. You honestly don't think that you and Minho would get along every chance he gets to make fun of you. He's gonna take it and you're tired of it.

“The problem is that you are both stubborn.” Kitty grabs the handle of the door and lets you into the class, she gives you a ‘be nice look’ and takes a seat.

You walked over to your seat and to your surprise Min Ho was already sitting down, he was always late. You take a seat and don't say a word to him.

“No greeting?” he asked

“What do you want?” you say in a cold tone.

“Woah, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” he smirks.

“I just don't have time for your bullshit today.”

Lucky Alex didn't have you guys do anything with your partner work today you didnt think you could handle it anyways.

You grabbed your things and stuffed them into your backpack.

“y/n?” you stopped in your tracks and looked at the guy that called your name. Minho also stopped and looks at him.

“Yes?” you look at him confused. You've never seen this guy in your life and you had no idea why he was talking to you.

“I'm Derek, I was just trying to see if i can get your number.” you look around to see if anybody was watching and behind him were his friends waiting to see your next move. You didn't want to seem stuck up or anything, so you just smiled and typed your number into his phone.

“Great, I'll text you.”

“Cool” you watch him walk away and turn to Min ho. “And why did you stay?”

“What does he want with you?” “What do you mean?”you asked, confused.

“His dad is literally a millionaire.”

“I honestly dont give two fuck about that.” you said.

“It had to be a dare.” Min ho shook his head.

“Oh really? Just because an attractive guy asked for my number that means it has to be a dare?” you said offended. Min ho knew he messed up, he always jokes around but he knew that what he said really affected you.

“That's not-”

“Save it.” you walked away.

—

For the next few weeks you continue talking to Derek, you thought he would be a jerk but turns out he wasn't. He was really nice and listened.

“Where are you going?” Min ho asked Q. “Oh the nature club is having a hike today.” Q said, putting on his shoes.

“Great i'll come” Min ho got up from the couch. “You can't.” Q said.

“Why?” “Club members only.” “Dude i went last time.” Q stayed silent and didn't say anything. “Unless you don't want me to go for some reason?” “It's not that I don't want you to go, it's just that y/n and Derek are going to be there and I don't want you messing it up for her. She told me what you said when he asked for her number.” Q confessed.

“That's not what I meant, I tried to tell her that.”

“You should have said it in the first place, are you jealous or something?” Q asked.

“What no… no”

“Yup that sounds so convincing.”

“I don't like her, I hate her.”

“You know, you can hate and love somebody at the same time.” Q said shutting the door.

Min ho stood there thinking there's no way that he loves y/n? He hates her too much.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

A few days ago I responded to an ask, explaining that Korean K-pop stans overall are the more intense version of whatever you see on the international side, and that one way k-fans perceive international fans is that international k-pop stans are easier to manipulate and rile up.

For anyone who is aware of the subway scare and the supposed link to ARMY and BTS, pay very close attention to what’s happening right now as a case study demonstrating what I wrote, happening in real time.

As a quick overview:

1 - This happened about an hour before Yoongi’s live where he showed his tattoo

*

2 - About an hour after this happened, an ARMY coming back from Yoongi’s concert, watching his livestream on their way home, reacts to his tattoo by screaming while in the subway. They record themselves and post the video on Twitter. The tweet itself is deleted now so I can’t link it, but I’ll link the OG video in point 5.

*

3 - After that ARMY posted their reaction to Yoongi’s tattoo, this Korean k-pop stan claims a fan screamed next to them on the train and caused panic and a stampede. This account’s most recent activity is from 2022, but the first thing they tweet in 2023 is that an ARMY caused a stampede because of Yoongi. Okay.

*

4 - One of the followers of that account then retweets that account to post an edited version of the ARMY reaction video, blurring out the reaction on the train, and further linking the two events (1) an ARMY screaming about Yoongi, (2) a resulting stampede that needed police intervention. This video is then used as the basis for user posts and articles written on k-blogs which then get translated as user posts on Allkpop and Pannchoa.

*

5 - For reference, this is the OG video from that ARMY showing what actually happened on the train. Note how there’s no panic in the train.

***

Basically, two events separated by about an hour are conflated on purpose by linked anonymous accounts on the Korean side, quickly translated into English and spread on the international side through k-pop gossip blogs like Allkpop, which Korean soft media (blogs etc) then picks up and takes as further credit to the underlying claims, though those claims are false.

And voila, a scandal is born.

Now, this isn’t to say BTS, ARMY, and people affiliated with them never do anything wrong and can never have a legit scandal. For example, I think anybody screaming for no good reason in a packed subway train is an idiot and should face some kind of consequence if harm is caused. But that’s not what happened here. What that ARMY did was stupid but harm wasn’t caused and Korean antis instead used it as an opportunity to link BTS with an incident that happened an hour earlier.

Occasionally, some of you might’ve seen me write about ‘manufactured controversy’ before, usually in passing when discussing something else. I remember I’ve mentioned it a few times such as during Jimin’s missed insurance payments scandal, during Jungkook’s Itaewon scandal, and also Min Heejin re: NewJeans (after just 5 minutes of looking at the original claims in Korean. The only thing holding the majority of the claims against MHJ together is sheer willpower and vibes atp). Someone has also asked me about hate ‘slave rooms’ before (context was Twice attacked by slave room hate) and I responded that hate in Korea towards people in the k-pop industry, is incredibly organized and insidious. And the bigger the target, the bigger the fall and the bigger the payout.

Please keep that in mind when you read shit online. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. Become more media literate and learn how to think for yourself. Seriously. Because in this machine called k-pop, nearly everything about it is designed to suck you in till you have no idea which way is up. Pay attention, please.

2026 is still a long way off and we’ll have many incidents like this before then.

Good luck everyone.

[jurisffiction]

the main complaints/criticisms/stan outcries ive seen about the finale so far (lmao. handful of hours) (that aren't just 'the pacing and emotional impact suffered from how much had to fit in there') are. wait. okay im gonna put this behind a read more cut because it's so nothing + is just pure spoilers

okay. 1. changing armand's plan/role in the trial to be fully intending louis to also die is a) ooc and b) affects too much narrativewise, and 2. shifting the focus of the loumand divorce to 'who saved louis' and not 'who murdered claudia' undoes so much of the adaption's good work in showcasing how much claudia is looked over.

and now this isnt like a clarified declaration this is fully just me verbally processing in my diary. after scrolling twitter about an amc show after 4 hours' sleep.

i think 1) a) isnt really justifiable but that doesn't immediately dismiss 1) b). like there's very much a clear character line of armand wanting to destroy louis entirely, tabula rasa, at the time he realises louis never truly loves him like madeleine loves claudia. it fits him fine. also fits him to then be an opportunist in reviving louis and painting himself the hero. but 1)b) is very much tied into 2) where it's like hmmmmm yes. I havent read the books but. the way i absorbed the scenes was the reveal that armand never premeditated saving louis (but did so ad hoc) broke through to louis that he really did premediate claudia's death and wasn't a parallel prisoner the whole time at all. it was still about who got claudia dead, but the detail of who saved louis clarified who killed claudia to louis.

(of course i mean. the discussion DID shift the focus in a literal face-value way so. i feel anyone who critiqued that has some solid ground to stand on. odd to switch context of race and other implications then diminish that impact in the finale. but. idk)

Whether or not that change of intent dramatically alters the line of characters or plot in the books is another question and i guess i can understand being knocked aside by it if you're a longtime/big book + armand fan bc it really eats at and switches the heart of the character but. idk. shrug! idk. is where we're ending this. there's a lot more you could read into sympathetically (not. not really. but explanatively ?) with armand re what he'd constructed around him at the point and what he truly believed himself and for his future. but. idk. this is so long

okay i wrote this 20 min ago then got distracted with my day job. unsure if the above is full sentences. posting it anyway for my personal records and if anyone wants to come kill me over discourse / make me realise something i missed. Long live television

[maxcuntstappen]

baby baby hiii 😽

🍓, 🛼, 🥑, 🏜, 🧸 (can I be your mutual 😔✌🏻 knockknock*)

darcy baby hiiii, fancy seeing u here

ask game

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

such a good question. i think the first ever fanfic i wrote was a Harry Potter one. It was for the New Age era and i HANDWROTE the chapters. i think i still have the book lying around somewhere. Mad lad behaviour.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

i just started working on something 2 mins ago and i dont think there are accurate emojis to describe it but i'll try

😮‍💨🛩️👨🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻🍆💺

i actually think i've done a great job. do with that what u will

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

you for sure. undoubtedly. also @xiaoluclair cause they'd probably know a great spot/way to hide the body.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

i love a good, long comment which point out the dialogues and lines they preferred. makes me feel all competent and cool. i also love a screaming comment like, WHAT THE FUCKWOIWOFWEEFWN WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT!!!!! or ones that threaten physical violence. they make me crack up.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

the fastest way to become my mutual is to text me! i am chatty n i love talking to people whenever im free and even if u send me a 'hey have u seen this' with the most random picture ever, i will reply with a 'oh my god no way' and some kind of tirade. yeah.

but u already knew all of this didn't u darcy!!!!!! i was struggling to remember how u n i started talking cause it feels like it's been so long (even if it hasn't) and it was literally because u sent me a brilliant fic idea n said 'write this' and i said 'no u' and then we decided we will write it together.

what a beautiful meet cute origin story, love that for us

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Hi, probably weird question, but can you offer any tips on how to co-write, like two different authors working on the same fic? How does that work?

hello there is actually nothing i would rather do let me give you the unabridged version because I think people romanticise it and it's important to be real. I'm going to give you all of my experiences and why I did it and which ones worked and which ones didn't.

HERE IT IS :

2-Let's start with @greenvlvetcouch who was my first duo writing experience. I was heavily part of an online thing at the time and I met him there, and we somehow (I genuinely can't remember how but I think it was me) ended up DMing about something, which actually pretty quickly evolved into me throwing a concept idea into the chat, and it just took off. We ended up losing our minds over the library scene from God Eater and that was that. I had read Zar and Jude's fic where every 15 min they switched (I think??) and I'm not a "minute" writer so I suggested to Green we did 700-1200 words each and pass it back. I also have a background in theatre, and I am part of a improv group in my city so improv games was part of my curriculum and I've always LOVED IMPROV GAMES, especially in small groups. (this is relevant for later). That's how God Eater was written. it happened very organically. We wrote it all in four months, in a doc, and didn't talk about publishing it until we realized that actually it was going to be a thing we were super proud of, that we would want to post it. The writing experience itself had none of the stress of "what if it's bad". We just wrote until we were done with no expectation. There were a lot of inconsistencies we fixed when we were done and TA-DA.

Since then Green has been a writing partner for a lot of published and unpublished works. We have several projects, some which we started and never finished because we lost the interest, some that we might publish, we don't know. I think he and I are aligned on the fact that writing is meant to be this fun thing and if the joy isn't there when writing, then the project dies. We had a LOT of really cool fun projects that only lived inside our mutual DMs and I think it still makes them real and great. They just weren't tangible enough to see the light of day. Green and I's writing process isn't *super* involved. We rarely fangirl over each other's works. I think we've reached a healthy balance of we *know* we love each other's writing, so we don't need to tell each other that. We will when a line slaps particularly well but other than that we mostly just hype the story up which is our way of saying we love working together.

Which is a perfect segway into inthesquare and I's writing process (hi I still don't know if I can tag you so imma send it to you after).

2-I'm currently writing a story with her, and our start was very different. I read this fic from hers and lost my mind. I cried and was very upset, it was such a great story, so I left a comment (as one does). What would you know, a few days later I get a comment on my fic about how she freaked out because she liked *my* work. So we literally met the most organically way possible: through ao3 comments. Then the normal pipeline happened: Tumblr, then Discord, then Whatsapp.

I wrote one fic that felt very much like something she would do and asked her to participate and add bits and bobs, she said yes, I was overjoyed. And then a few months ago I popped in and was like... *you like myths, right?* and TADA we have the amaranth hymns.

The writing process with us is very different. We each write until we're done with a scene (which usually ends up capping at 1500/2000 words-ish). We are posting as we go, we have 0 plan, zero foresight, we're just hoping for the best, rocking with a Pinterest board and voice noting each other at 3am going "hey do what was this thing you wrote and what does it mean?" "oh cool" "and so does this mean that X? Cuz we need to Y then" "Yes, right". We're problem solving as we go, and I think we're both kind of unbothered and unstressed about it: the story will write itself, we're just along for the ride. We also don't really hype each other up (a little ya know, when a line slaps), but we *do* talk about the fic itself a lot, which I think is our way of showing our engagement. We talk about the fic because we like writing it (I have a point to make later on bear with me).

3- You remember how i LOVE improve games, right????? WELL. There is a game called the "yes" game. A scene starts, you have a theme and a concept and you can't backtrack. Whatever the person throws your way you have to work with it....hence the "yes". You can only move forward, never back. That's how Raise Hell was created. I asked a bunch of my friends if they wanted to create a frankenstein fic, some said yes, some said no, and Raise Hell got started. I knew all of these people beforehand, so that made it easier. We still want to finish this fic but ya know, life got away from us.

What ended up happening is that there were no "writing" rule aside from : you must write enough to propel the next person. Give the next person *something* to work with. So what accidentally ended up happening is each person ended up writing a chapter.

Now let's talk about the rest:

As stated before, I love writing with people: I have the bandwith to work on numerous fics at once (it keeps my brain fed and entertained, I like the community of it), I like it, and thus I seek it.

But I think (and THIS is my point) that people romanticise it and it can stress people out. This is what I mean:

I started writing fics with several other writers because *I like it and I seek it and it brings me joy*, but some writers didn't like feeling like they were one in a lineup.

I wrote 30k with a writer and then the story died and we never picked it back up.

I have had two people I was writing with tell me they didn't like it because I wasn't 'involved' enough (by this I think what they meant was that I wasn't showing enough hype and enthusiasm for their writing).

I had one person tell me that our writing didn't match up and it felt weird and they didn't want to continue.

I have had one person tell me I hurt their feelings because I made them feel like their writing wasn't good enough by the way I edited.

I think it's important to mention that co-writing *is* a skill and it's not something that will work for everyone.

I have a graveyard of fics and a few friendships that died because of that, too. I'm not a big hyper. I do edit a lot. I show my enthusiasm in ways that perhaps isn't obvious enough. I don't praise other people's writing that much because in my mind, the fact we're writing together is proof enough that I love their writing, but that actually isn't always enough.

And I think the difficult part of all of this is that writing is a very personal endeavour. When you expose your guts to another person and they do not react the way you want them to, it's not very easy I think to say "Hey, you hurt my feelings because you didn't tell me you loved this and that". That's another layer exposed and because talking about hurt feelings is hard and uncomfortable, sometimes it will drag on and take proportions that lead to broken friendships.

So you do have to be careful.

...But I also don't know how, in the sense that *before* you start writing with someone, you won't *know* how they will react to the duo process.

What I'm saying is it' a gamble and actually I have lost more than I have won, BUT I still don't regret trying. I personally have had good experiences every single time. I have grown and I have learned.

I know for instance that writing with Green and Inthesquare is a great experience because we approach writing in the same way and we are all very confident in our own writing. We like how we write. We like how the other person writes. We know that, we don't feel the need to say it.

But I think I tend to forget that some writers (even really good ones!!) can feel self-conscious about their own writing and need more praise than what I give.

So bearing all that in mind here is my advice:

-Talk about what you need from the experience BEFOREHAND. How much hype, can I edit, how much editing can I do, etc etc. When green and I edit our works, we fully destroy each other's parts. We will go in and add and remove a LOT, to the point where it really becomes kind of undetectable, who wrote what, because we're in each other's lines everywhere. This isn't something that will feel good for everyone. When I write with inthesquare, we *barely* edit each other's work. The separation is much more obvious, and I don't really know why this is? It just is? We just kind of never edited the other person's part. And it works really beautifully, too. My point is these are two very different approach yet there isn't one better than the other, it's just different.

Some people do not like when you tinker with their writing too much. Some people do not like when you tinker with their writing at all. Make sure you know what each person is comfy with.

-Decide on a plan: are we writing each for a set amount of time? Of words? Are we each doing a chapter? The only rule is the one you make up.

-Don't put pressure on the work. See where it goes. If it dies, let it.

-I would advise against posting as you go if this stresses you out. That way if the story doesn't finish, no stress.

-Start with someone who you feel very confident writing with. Someone you know, who knows you, where the communication canals are OPEN. You're gonna need to be able to tell each other if someone does something that wasn't appreciated.

Not all co-writing will end up with a fully fledged fic. Not all co-writing will end up being a good experience. If the person you really want to write with doesn't want to write with you, don't take it personally. It just do be like that.

But I'm the kind of person who really has come to love it, and while I'm a lot more picky now with who I write (because I'd love to like, not lose more friends), I think I will always seek it out, especially with the people with whom it's been a success before. I love, love, loveeeeee writing with my friends. I find it so rewarding and fun and great and I have nothing bad to say about it. I just really, really love it.

And if you've made it till here just know I have ONE fic I wrote with 2 other writers that we published under anon. and it's just out there. Doing its thing.

[floofyfluff]

4:18 am summary of me taking a holiday/snow day shift for extra pay. since i have officially finished with my day job as of 1 pm. is that:

cw death and just like. literally every day i desire to kill the concept of god more

i am a moron. how did i forget where i came from in 6 months. it's so cold and its december which means that everyone is dying. 🎶 its the most wonderful time of the year 🎶 the hap-happiest season of all!!!🎶

god does not exist and he does not love you and i wish you would stop giving him credit for work the rest of us are doing. while blaming us for everything else. i GET that you're devastated i DO but hm i guess actually its my fault i didn't see your grandma's atherosclerosis 3 years ago. thanks. yeah its my fault shes dead. i would really love for a medic to show up but unfortunately they're all busy with the people who might be salvageable right now. a doctor??? LMA fucking O that's not going to help. no amount of epi would help here. i'm breaking ribs as a performance rn. my partner has been here for 2 weeks i've never met her before she's visibly developing a panic disorder. she could be more helpful but also it doesn't matter so whatever. i'm just sitting here until med control can call official tod. which they should have called an appropriate crew here to do before we got here. no shockable rhythm here this is exclusively to make you feel better. which i cannot stress enough i would be very willing to do bc i have done worse things for 2 min cycles but you're telling me that it's my fault this happened while im sobbing so honestly. lay off. or die i guess. whichever comes first.

god does not exist he does not love you and if he does exist he in fact thinks its funny that you die while trying to stay warm under your bed when its -8F. he thinks its hilarious. man's got a long record of opening up the earth and swallowing well-meaning families to teach you a lesson about how much life sucks and how you should fear him just in case he can make it suck even more. it's not my fault of your fault that energy costs as much as it does and your mom thought she'd be fine with some extra blankets!!!! she wasn't fine and its not our fault but it sure feels like it doesnt it!!!

god does not exist and does not love you and you are now the third fucking family who has told me that it's my fault your grandpa is dead in 6 hours and i don't care anymore. a medic is gonna show up here in 10 min and give him an i/o and he's still gonna be dead. I am once again hoping that your prayers get him where he wants to go but don't fucking blame me if you think that they don't. take that shit up with god.

god does not exist and he doesn't love you but drunk ass extended family trying to get gma up the stairs and causing So many more problems than they are solving DOES exist. and they are doing 10x more for everyone than thoughts and prayers. i do not want this soda that i now have but thank you. this soda i do not want is also the reason im still alive

wrote this at 4:20 hahah blaze it and its now 5:03 and i have soft cats in my bed so i guess i'll live. also if god existed which for the sake of the world and all that is decent i hope he does not. i'm going to physically fight god

[alexin-wonderlust]

Day Thirteen - Tokyo (oops)

19th November 2022

Well, someone drank too much last night. (it was me)

So instead of doing things I had planned… I had to stay in bed all day and nurse a stupid hangover.

Ben wanted McDonalds so I sent him on a solo adventure to go and get it. He really just wanted the McGriddle but they didn’t even have it — poor monkey.

Anyway; I did manage to drag myself out of bed at around 4pm and the mission was to get the Italian ramen hybrid that I’ve been wanting for 4 years.

We went to Shinjuku to find Taiyou No Tomato-Men and there was a QUEUE!! We waited for like, 20 mins? Which isn’t bad. But the food looked EPIC! It was at the top of a shopping mall, alongside other restaurants; which also looked yum. There was even a Disney themed one for a dark battle game they gave here called Twisted Wonderland.

The food was epic. I wore a bib (for laughs, but also because messy?). We ordered cheesy gyoza which were the best. They were crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside. Holy shit. Ben ordered 2/10 chilli which came with a cereal bowl with almost 3/4 of a cup of chilli flakes — we joked about what 10/10 chilli would be and if they just brought you a wheelbarrow.

After the ramen, we walked to Omiyode Yokocho which is an alley of eateries. I kind of wish we had more time here now because theres so much to explore. THIS HAPPENS EVERY TIME!!

Tomorrow we are off to Disneyland!! IG Post:

"Oops. I drank too much and wrote myself off. I tried to eat McDonald’s but couldn’t. So I ended up sleeping until 4pm and then decided it was time to finally get Tomato Ramen.

I’ve literally been dying to come back to Tokyo to have this chain of ramen since 2019 and it was so good. Tomato based, Italian Ramen. The dumplings were next level. I’m going to need to go back. 🥰"

"It took me three attempts to post this so here we go again 😂

After drinking too much in Shinjuku on Friday night, I wrote myself off and stayed in bed until 4pm with probably the worst hangover I've ever had abroad. Oops! But, a day of relaxing is probably needed because we've done approximately 150kms walking since we got to Japan. Eep!

When I could function, we adventured to get Tomato Ramen which was great. Then, to the Shinjuku Disney store. Which only opened a few weeks ago. It was lovely. I cried. Of course. 🥲

Then we wandered around Shinjuku, looking around Omiyode Yokocho to get some Street food but they were busy (it was a Saturday night after all). Then back to the hotel to pack for our last stop... Tokyo Disney Resort!"

[jamesyofukashi]

This actually happened to me lol. Short story I wrote a while ago for English class

People poop sometimes

“I wonder what I’m missing in class right now?”, I think to myself as I violently shit in the toilet. In all honesty, I didn’t really want to be in this school bathroom, but the prospect of sitting in math class was that much worse in my mind. I want to enjoy my stay a little so why not get on my phone and paly some subway surfers. I play one or two rounds then finish up my business, of course very slowly, then return to class. At this point I don’t even want to remember what I did to that toilet. I assume that I attracted a bunch of skat-fiends and 2 girls one cup actors to a school by leaving that massive fucking turd in there. But whatever, life goes on, and if a few children here or there get anally raped bc my shit was so massive, it attracted weird fetishists like moths to the light, that’s not my fault. You can’t make me responsible for the crimes of my shit right?

By the time I finished this “thought” I was already in front of the classroom door. I take in a deep breath, then return to the class that stank so badly of boredom, I left for the bathroom that stank like literal feces. You know it you hate it, its math class with Mr Erigdoupos1 .

“How was your walk?”, he asked me.

“What!?”

“You heard me young man. You were gone for 35 min of my class. What else could you have done besides take a nice long stroll in the English garden? Or did you go down to the bakery to get a snack? You know that as your teacher I am responsible for you, so if you get hurt or do anything stupid while you skip classes Ill be the one everyone will blame it on. Now what do you have to say for yourself? What did you do while you were supposedly going to the bathroom?”

Wtf? This gives candy to children from a white van looking ass teacher is mad at me for takin a duke. He doesn’t even know what I did, huh. Guess I’ll just tell him straight up.

“I took a shit. People take dumps sometimes teach”

The class obviously broke out laughing, because haha poop joke, but I was dead serious. I did take a shit, and no one would ever know how massive it was. I calmly walk to my seat amids the chaos of people laughing about my own poop.

The End

[vernonwaahere]

Maybe it was breakup/ betrayal #1 when she reached out to my now ex-bff of whom resides 3,000 miles away and is a legal ward of the state. (Bless her heart) so that they could talk about my tiny penis and yellow teeth.

Maybe after breakup/ betrayal #2 when she wrote FB group chat to my immediate relatives, how everyone in her neck of the woods was so “uncomfortable” around me.

Or could it have been breakup/ betrayal #3 when she finally tried to make a friend and I met a friend to go to meetings with in my hometown and she only made up more lies that just confused said - new friend.

No no wait, it couldn’t possibly be the Fourth betrayal— pages upon pages of texts of basically the same lies(with some new ones); now more histrionically ordered. with all-new! : whacky details! :

She FABRICATED. She is a manipulator and an instigator for nothing and no one except for her amusement. That’s all!

So these pages. Pages and pages of manufactured and fabricated lies text

to my sister—- the sister who was now getting married in November— ghosted me. all. summer. Long.

The fabricator blames me for turning my family against her? She sees red for weeks after the wedding. she’s not invited to sisters wedding?!?!

The fabricator strikes again: accusations of me of talking her down to my family.

I’ve been quiet. I’ve been with you, I would tell her. 100% truth.

I wonder if it was from the perspective of her coworkers, the time she lost her job because of POCS felony charge for meth or maybe the 9 months she was hiding the drugs from her so called “ride of die”,

If it WASNT the drugs during her so-called-sobriety from alcohol, it was getting caught red handed with them,

And that would explain the WHY she lost that great job with benefits & joint custody of her kids.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was stuck but I was in real deep and couldn’t have given up on her. I could enable her and give more of myself to her so that she could piece together a new mask.

See how fine the line is when I reflect back and tell myself that I could be the example, but never set one.

So now I’ve learned all this stuff—- how to write on my secret blog, for myself to vent but then, how NOT to be her friend on social media, then just to not be on social media, she couldn’t let me do me, I was fading away.

All those good qualities that were uniquely me gone.

And now I sit before my parents at the dinner table on New Year’s Day explaining to them about how I miss cooking with my ninja foodie, how you can time things right and have a three course meal.. but even when there was food to eat and kids there to eat it, they still jwanted McDonald’s.

And she would take them.

I would go home to my mess feeling as if I had spent my money on feeling empty, and somehow not hungry.

So they could have “space” but then she is mad at me for leaving, and accusing me of cheating. When it’s all I can do get home and take care of the things I need to do in my little trailer with no septic. I have to be up for work, sneaking away to respond to her texts about how she misplaced this or that, or she is 15 mins late because the one of the kids needed construction paper for an assignment but 15 mins

Calling ME the narc; using *100%* and *literally* before and after every other sentence… blaming me for her addiction(s) that led to a lawsuit from full custody… the reason she is alone now IS MY FAULT, her post-military PTSD 16 years ago, and two failed marriages before ours ARE ALL MY FAULT, her immediate family living on the streets 1,000 miles away is *literally* *100%* MY FAULT, because I am the Narcissist.

no,

she isolated me,

she verbally assaulted,

emotionally raped

and mentally abused

me.

But I’m not one to play victim.

I’d like to thrive, not just survive.

I’d like to live to write and sing about it once day.

Manifesting my dreams into waking Melodie’s.

[queenimmadolla]

Out of Touch In Harmony

SUMMARY: in which Eddie and his arch-nemesis smoke a couple of joints and talk about how much they (don't) hate each other. then proceed to suck face. WARNINGS: A whole lot of banter and misunderstandings. some fluff with a liddlebito spice. NOTE: the random thought that turned into +4k words. i tried to leave the timeline vast enough for drabbles and other stuff in case this becomes a series or something. i was also high the entire time I wrote this, and seeing as how I just finished like 5 mins ago, there are definitely gonna be mistakes because i am still indeed trippin. i'll fix it later though. also don't steal my shit i guess.

masterlist

You could feel the tension sloshing throughout the classroom, threatening to burst through the door and flood the halls.

English class with Ms. O’Donnell wouldn’t be considered entertaining to literally anyone in the entire world and truthfully it’s neither the subject nor the teacher (she’s too fucking expired to be as much of an old crone as she is) that keeps a smug smirk plastered on your face.

It’s the dumb ass super senior two rows back, one seat over.

You weren’t like the others. No, you hadn’t judged Eddie Munson based on reputation only. To you, he had the chance to prove he wasn’t a freak or a loser. And that’s were you went wrong. Unfortunately, that stupid little crush you had on him in the fourth grade when he was the only one to compliment your (admittedly) atrocious hair cut (which you still gave your mom a hard time about to this very day) clouded your judgement. He was two grades ahead of you, and your little self had been heartbroken when he moved onto high school, while you stayed in middle school. 

You were completely fucking flabbergasted when you finally followed and saw he began to develop the sense of style he had currently, shit, you hadn’t even thought it was weird. It was hot and most certainly an awakening. You were meant for a different crowd, though. Joined Cheer as a freshman, and quietly pined for him. Then you found out he had a crush on Chrissy Cunningham sophomore year, so naturally you hated him. 

That bitch Erin hadn’t been able to shut the hell up about it in the locker room. And Chrissy, the endearing little chick, found it cute. Not cute enough to date him, thank god, but cute nonetheless. Plus, you didn’t like how he ripped on other people’s interests just because some (okay, most, but not all!) didn’t like his. It hadn’t been too big of a deal until it had been your table that was the focus of one of his Public Lunch Announcements. You’d been so embarrassed, especially after seeing the way he smirked as he soaked the sudden emotion up, proud of the fact that he’d humiliated you.

You didn’t join the of hierarchy of popularity though until senior year. Freshman year was spent pining (and then hating) in quiet after him and being plain, sophomore year was spent more or less the same except your body proportions didn’t match your face, junior year you were almost there and losing the meek-ness that anchored you down from ever reaching confidence. You’d managed to squeeze Volleyball and Softball into your schedule. You’d also easily managed to maintain straight A’s (we don’t talk about how you’ve barely made it to Algebra 2 and that math is the subject you had to actively sweat your vagina off studying to pass) which pleases the parent (ensuring a bit more freedom), and then your cheer coach Connie announced that you and Judy would be taking over as Co-Captains since Alizae and Carmen graduated. Of course, Chrissy managed to become the most popular girl in school, but you still managed to obtain a validating amount of respect, and everyone says 'hi' to you first now.

Except Eddie. No, you two hadn't acknowledged each other’s existence except in instances to cause the other as much public embarrassment as they could in a single sitting. 

You still maintained the latest victory after sticking some gum to the beginnings of a stream of toilet paper and managing to smush it against his dirty reeboks under the guise of kicking his shoe in class. He’d made it to his next class before he noticed what the looks were about. People usually had the decency to save the laughter for lunch, he should’ve caught on sooner.

He had failed senior year. Twice. Another thing you liked to use against him when you two got particularly nasty with each other.

It was a genuine hateship, one that had never managed to meet this amount of tension until this particular class. While you’d had the Senior Citizen for other classes before, the teachers mostly lectured. O’Donnell asked questions. Which gave you so many chances to embarrass him in front of the whole class by correcting his dumbass answers with as much snark as you could.

This time he couldn’t provide an example of a hyperbole and you’d offered up the solution. Sure, it was in relation to his embarrassing life and everyone laughed, but he hadn’t appreciated it.

You could feel the heat of his stare the rest of the class, but by the time lunch had ended, you’d forgotten about each other’s existence. He’d gone off to do stuff for hellfire and probably sell or whatever else it is he does, and you went to cheer. 

Practice had ended earlier than normal when coach Connie hurt her hip and started crying over losing her youth.  Sensing the oncoming breakdown, the team had encouraged her to just call it a night, which is how you found yourself on the wooden bench some ways into the woods behind the school.

With your schedule, you didn’t get as much downtime as you’d like this early in the day. Very disheartening, considering the sun was about an hour from sunset. So you’d thought you might just give yourself some time to yourself rather than go spend it with your friends. Besides, you had a nice joint to keep you company and your walkman. 

You were about halfway done with the joint and you lowered your headset to swap out the tape when you heard a branch snap behind and nearly had a heart attack, twisting around to actually find someone sitting behind you.

You gasped, a hand rushing up in attempt to calm the organ through your clothes somehow, relief flooding you when you realized it was just Eddie.

He had that stupid smirk plastered on his face, probably got a thrill from scaring you.  “Hey-,” it only widens as you settle enough to relax in a huff. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, spitfire.” There’s nothing nice about it.

It’s definitely the weed allowing you to be this cordial, because you find yourself saying, “It’s fine. Never thought I’d be happy to see your face. You, as opposed to like Jason Voorhees or some other killer.”

Eddie squints at you, slight disbelief on his face before it morphs into something resembling realization as he gives the air a good sniff, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He pushes himself dramatically back from the table, taking a few steps back all the while his expression takes on mock shock. “Spitfire…Spitfire, are you high?”

You can’t help the slow smile that you find your lips pulling up into, you give a pathetic attempt at hiding it before you give in. “Yeah. Uh, I am. Why is that surprising, you seem shocked.”

He stares at you, grin softening while he tongues his canine. You realize, thanks to your delayed sense of any self preservation, that his gaze is focused on you. Like hyper focused on you. Oh, shit. He had you when you were unable to defend yourself from an insult. 

Then he just chuckles, gaze flickering to the ground and then back to you as he flicks his wrists before crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, I just guess I never entertained the idea that you might smoke. Anything other than a cigar, anyways.”

You wince, but giggle knowing he’s referring to your projected air of sophistication compared to his. “Don’t even put that thought in my head, just the thought of a cigar tastes terrible to me.”

He laughs along with you, slowly making his way closer. “No cigars, noted."

You’re feeling relaxed, plus you know no one is around so you decided to offer a moment of truce. “Would you care for a temporary olive branch? Olive joint?” 

Eddie scoffs and mumbles, “Would I care for a…” But he trails off, gaze feeling heavier as the those stupid big beautiful eyes stare at you. You can feel yourself beginning to react, how every single one of your nerves seem to be coming slowly back to life. Why did you feel like something was happening? “Yeah. Yeah, I’d care for an olive joint.” He closes the distance between you two, keeping an arms length away (his arm).

You had no idea touching fingers could feel as good as it does when his brush yours as they take the joint. You glance up at him to find him still watching you, then he moves to sit on the bench next to you, elbows leaned back against the table as he wraps his surprisingly plump for a dude’s lips around the filter and inhales. He exhales slow, the smoke wafting around you two, and pulls it away to eye it. “You make this?”

“Yup.”

“Nice craftsmanship.” It sounds genuine, which pleases you again for that mystery reason,

“Thanks, I spent an hour on it.”

He lets out a low whistle, looking thoroughly amused from you to the joint. “If you’re trying to impress me, spitfire, consider it a job well done. You craft instead of roll, so I’m guessing you don’t get to smoke often?”

You rest your elbows on before answering. “No, I smoke pretty often.”

“So then you don’t smoke often and get to enjoy it?”

“That’s right.”

“Pity.”

You spend the next 15 minutes passing it back and forth before it’s done. Eddie tosses it and rubs it into the dirt with his shoe before producing another one from seemingly nowhere. “Guess it’s my turn to extend the olive joint.” 

It’s stupid, but you grin wide, trying to ignore the way his stare keeps flickering back over to you while he takes the first hit. 

You take that moment to really look at him. How pretty his hair was, your fingers twitched, just itching to play with the waves. You wonder how soft it would feel, twirling around your fingers,  would it be easy to run your hands through? How would it feel like, pressed up against your neck, or with thebottom half framing your face if he was on top? And those eyes, should be illegal for a man with a smile like his to also have eyes that beautiful. So intense, but so telling. That’s how you could always tell when you managed to push his buttons. Those eyes wouldn’t let him hide a thing.

Jesus. So much for being over Eddie Munson. The attraction you had nail gunned to the back of your head all those years ago came back much faster than you’d been able to learn how to ignore it.

You hoped like hell it was just the weed.

You couldn’t sit in silence anymore. “Why didn’t you try?” You ask, taking the joint as he offers it. 

Eddie sort of gets this far off look in his eyes, and you know he’s aware of what you’re talking about, trying to decide if he’s going to play dumb or answer your question. It almost surprises you, “First time, I guess I was rebelling or some shit like that. Just didn’t care all that much, wasn’t too big of a deal for me. Second time, I got a little too comfortable. Thought I knew enough shit to scrape away with the bare minimum, but Ms. O’Donnell changing her final was a move I failed to anticipate.”

“Didn’t roll high enough to survive, huh?”

You noticed how he suddenly went stiff, turning to you slowly. “What did you just say?”

Oh, god. You were trying not to break the peace by saying something nice and relative to his interests but you’d probably fucked it up. Was that not how it worked?

“Isn’t that a thing?” He just stares at you, leaving your panic to heighten slightly and you flounder. “In D&D? Dungeons and  Dragons? The game you play?”

He finally put you out of your misery, lips curling up into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. God, he’s so cute. “Yes, it’s a thing. In D&D. Dungeons and Dragons. The game I play.”

You let out a sigh of relief, ignoring his chuckles. “God, Eddie. You almost ruined my high!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to know any terminology, let alone use it accurately.” You go back to sitting side by side.

“Good, that’s what you get for judging people.” You pulled your cardigan a little tighter around you and you dropped the stub to the ground. The sun was dipping low, barely visible behind the tree line. 

“Now, wait just a minute. You’re trying to tell me not to judge anyone?” He sounded incredulous and you did not appreciate that.

“Are you implying I’m judgmental?” Your arms crossed just under your chest, and you caught the quick glance down he made. He seemed embarrassed about it.

“Implying? No. Stating? Yes.” Your mouth drops open in shock, and he continues. “C’mon, I know the score, Spitfire. I don’t exactly meet the criteria for normal or Christian around here. You took one look at me, and knew I was a bad apple.”

The Christian comment has you biting back a smile. “I did no such thing. I remember you from long before you were even a headbanger. Back when you could strike a match on that head of yours.”

He stands up at that, pacing a little in front of you before facing you with that shy look on his face and his arms crossed. “You remember me?”

Did he remember you?

“Yeah,” You don’t even bother to hold off with some teasing. “Yeah, how could I forget the first boy who ever lied to me to spare my feelings?” 

His smile is so soft now, and it’s making that feeling in your stomach long for him again. “I really did like your haircut.”

You squint, slightly suspicious but he said it so softly. “You’re lying.”

He shakes his head, brown waves framing his face. “No. I thought you looked cool.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Fourth grade you would have fainted. “Huh. Guess it’s my turn to be surprised.”

It’s quiet for a few beats. 

“Sooo, is there a reason why you decided you were gonna be a bitch to me in a high school?” He’s smiling when he says it, so you know he’s still being playful.

“You had it coming! I never thought you were a freak, or any weirder than any other teenage boy finding out who he is, anyways. I actually…” Why does it feel like you’re offering the villain in your life a huge chance to kill you? “…kind of admired you. Despite how hard everyone ragged on you, you just never conformed. And you didn’t just take their shit either, you gave it back.” Then you think about that day in the cafeteria, when you’d been on the other end of that.

“Sometimes, to people who don’t necessarily deserve it, too. Like my Sophomore year, when you told the whole school to take a good look at us because they were witnessing overachievers who would amount to nothing but a couple of retail salesmen in the making. Future Failures of America.” You avoid looking at him as you stare down at the pitiful little nub of a joint on the damp dirt.

If you were looking at him, you’d see him wince, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Senior Year number one. Rebel who doesn’t care about anything phase. Always finds a way to continuously come back and kick me in the ass.”

Yeah, it hurts but some part of you, the embarrassed part probably, found it silly that you’d hung on to that grudge for this long.

“The part that really bugs me is how I’m pretty sure you were right.” You don’t see the way his face contorts into a deep frown. “I’m an overachiever, I get the good grades, I play sports, I cheer, and I’ll be happy to do the college thing, but then what? I get an overpriced degree for what? I have no drive to do anything. I don’t want some boring job, I don’t want to be trapped in a nine to five, I don’t want to be a lawyer, or a doctor, or have any big career goals. It’s sounds nice at first, but the amount of depression that comes with realizing your life is just something you’re good at and not something you love is not for me. I just want to be happy.”  Because that’s definitely not what you’re experiencing right now. No, that’s an existential crisis for you later. Not you now.

There’s no sadness in your voice, why would there be? You’re just stating facts. 

“That doesn’t make you a failure,” He’s crowding closer to you, pulling off his jacket and denim vest to place over your lap. You hadn’t even noticed you were shivering, the thigh highs and leg warmers not enough to keep you warm. “That just makes you human. You don’t have to have your whole life planned out. Plenty of people don’t and stumble onto their thing. Like Ozzy. He dropped out, went through a ton of jobs, and found his calling. I don’t think he was necessarily searching for it, but he found it. One of the world’s greatest fucking rockstars. Wouldn’t have happened if he tried to plan his life out.”

“Or if he hadn’t been traumatized.”

“That, too. The point is, you’re doing just fine. Better than fine actually. Better than anyone else in this shitty town.” 

You finally raise you gaze to meet his and the warmth in his eyes nearly takes your breath away.

You don’t know what to say, you’re on good terms with the former bane of your school hour existence. You give him a small smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“You’re welcome. Hey—I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Where do you get your weed?”

“From you.” You squirm a little, unable to stop yourself from giving up your secrets. 

You know he thinks you’re lying because he’s doing some hardcore scrutinizing, but the small smile stays on his face, “Pretty sure I’d remember selling to you of all people, Sweetheart.” You’re pretty sure that up until your truce, he wouldn’t have sold you anything other than oregano. The glint in his eyes confirms it.

“It’s your stuff. Judy tells me when she’s gonna meet up with you to buy, I give her money, tell her what I want, and you unknowingly sell it to me. It’s not that complex of a plan.”

He groans, leaning forward to hunch over and rest his palms against the table. “You are breaking all the rules, Spitfire! All. The. Fucking. Rules.”

“I wasn’t about to go to Reefer Rick. I don’t think Rick is even his name. These rules I don’t know about suck, Eddie. Which ones did I even break?” You’re curious now, body very much so aware of how close he is. 

You can smell his shampoo, and it pleases you that it’s a surprisingly sweet scent. 

“You,” He begins, shoulders shagging like he’s giving into defeat, despite his coy smile, “were not supposed to be so damn cool. You’re not supposed to be sweet either, or even prettier up close. Pisses me off!” He’s grinning like mad at you now, and you’re beaming right back at him even though you’re not entirely sure what’s going on because you had to have imagined him calling you pretty. 

“And you’re so fucking witty, too. Fuck, like in English today. What’d you say?” He says rather than asks, and you realize he knows exactly what you said. Memorized it, probably, because he quotes you from earlier except in a nasally, high pitched voice that doesn’t sound at all like you. 

“‘You being able to graduate will suffice.’” And you don’t flood with shame, the opposite actually. You warm up inside because something about the grin on his face and the way he’s beaming makes you feel like that had somehow been the right thing to say. “That was so fucking hot. It made me mad.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, tongue peaking out to play with the left corner of your lips. “Wow. Is that all my carefully planned verbal sparring was to you? Foreplay?”

He laughs low, pushing himself up again, this time he moves to linger directly in front of where you sit, but he doesn’t make a move.

Were you missing something?

Was he? Maybe you misread his signs. 

Or maybe you didn’t make yourself clear. 

“You know, I used to kick myself in the ass in elementary school. I got held back in the third grade for not wanting to shake anyone’s hand, which meant you were two whole grades ahead of me, instead of the much more attainable one. I was gutted when I realized I wasn’t gonna be able to go out of my way to see glimpses of you anymore after your eight grade promotion. Then I got to high school and you got really hot, and I got my glimpses back, but you just had to go and like Chrissy—“

“Chrissy? I didn’t like Chrissy like that.” He interrupts you, making your heartbeat pound in your ears. It was one thing to be brave enough to vomit the truth like you were but now you were gonna have to try and make sense of the word vomit, to a guy you know is very aware that you just admitted your attraction to.

“Erin Miller said she overheard a couple of the guys on the football team giving you a hard time about making eyes at a cheerleader you were interested in. ‘Said it was Chrissy.”

“They said it was Chrissy. You were her partner during that little cheer thing you did at the homecoming pep rally. And you had on an eyepatch.” You remembered that, it was when you started trying your hand at softball. You’d gone to the batting cages the weekend before homecoming and came back home with a  black eye that stuck around for a little longer than a month. “They were a little right though, I was definitely making eyes at a cheerleader, just got the wrong one down.”

“Oh. I guess we’re both victims of vast misunderstanding.”

“Guess so.”

He leans down and you lean up to smash your lips together, mouth immediately opening to welcome his tongue when it seeks yours out.

Eddie groans, one hand moving to hold the back of your head and the other moving to rest against your side as he pulls you to the edge of the picnic bench, licking any uncertainty remaining right off your tongue. It’s messy and urgent, but so satisfying given that it’s been years in the making. 

He uses his hold on your head to angle the kiss deeper, there’s no doubt he’s in control. You nip at his bottom lip, causing him to gasp and creating a chance for you to explore his mouth instead.

He tastes mostly like weed, but there’s a hint of something underneath that must be Eddie, and you’re desperate to get a better taste.

Eddie’s moan is absolutely obscene as your tongue rolls over his, his grip on your side loosens so he can move his jacket out of the way and slide his hand down to rest on your thigh. The warmth of his hand on your skin makes you feel intoxicated (even more so) and he gives your thigh a good squeeze before tugging it just over his hip. You can feel him hard, and warm pressed up against your covered core. The bulge prodding at you is larger than you would have allowed yourself to expect from him, it’ll be a stretch for sure. Your terry ring shorts make it easy for his jeans to provide some much needed friction.

“Fuck.” He hisses, breaking the kiss when you grind your hips forward. “Fuck, I really—I want to—“

You can’t help but pout, lips swollen from the thorough job he’d done. “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming on?”

He leans forward to give you another kiss, this one is sweet but just as passionate. “But, you’re still high. If this is gonna happen, I need it to happen when you’re sober. I need to know you want to do this, You’re just so fucking beautiful and you look so hot in these shorts, and the thigh highs…” He grits out, fingers snaking under them to rest against the warm skin of your thigh, just for a moment, before his hand is retreating. “It’s like all my little fantasies, dirty and not, are coming true. I couldn’t resist. What kind of satanic witchcraft is this?”

You laugh as he presses a long kiss to your forehead, before forcing himself to give you room to hop down. “Just a little something the women in my family have been passing down since Salem. Old recipe, if you will.” 

He watches you, smirking before he pulls you into him again. “You’re making it really hard to to be platonic here. You’re not supposed to have a sense of humor, either.”

“Well, you’re not supposed to be charming. You’re failing to live up to your reputation, not even half as scary as you try to look.” You retort, not eager to leave the warmth of his embrace.

He pulls back to look down at you, intrigued with your statement. “Sweetheart, you thought I was scary?”

“As scary as you thought I was.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to terrify you like that.” It has the desired effect, you laugh and playfully slap his shoulder. 

“Shut up!” Despite the return of your affections for him, the sky is darkening significantly, and your dad is gonna have a heart attack if you’re not home by the time he leaves for his night shift. So, you reluctantly step away, his hands falling back to his sides as you shove your things into your bag.

“I gotta go.”

“I figured as much. Did you drive to school?” He knows you did, he just wants to be able to cover all possible grounds in an attempt to get a couple more minutes with you. He doesn’t care if you’re not gonna fuck.

You feel guilty, completely stupid. You should’ve just made the 45 minute walk to school instead of the 10 minute drive. Selfish. “I did.”

“Damn.”

“What were you doing here, anyways?”

“I’m supposed to meet someone around─” He glances down at his watch. “Now.”

You scoff, but you can feel your cheeks tingle. “And you were still gonna offer to drive me home?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking irresistible in that hellfire shirt. “I’ve got my priorities straight this time. ‘86, baby. I know what I want.”

And the smoldering look he’s giving you has your kneecaps rattling, you gotta go before you risk it all. “Looks like I was wrong, you’re definitely no hyperbole.”

He lets out a loud laugh as you walk backwards, stomach still warm with affection for the super senior.

“See you around, Eddie.”

“Oh, I hope so.”

You can still feel his eyes on you as you make your way out of the woods, wondering if you’re gonna need to find a new arch-enemy or not.

[hyetomi]

local florist! jungwon

pairings: gn! reader x jungwon

genre: fluff ! just fluff ! acquaintances to friends / lovers ? idk but it's hinted that their relationship will change in the future

warnings: none

word count: 960 words

notes: i got sidetracked ... so here's a jungwon as a florist au !! inspired by his vlive with cactuses and a prompt i started on twt ! im sorry for any mistakes i wrote this in like 30 mins

"So… what's wrong with my Spider Plant?" you asked, fidgeting with your sweater's sleeves as a nervous habit of yours.

"Alright so," the florist in front of you said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he fiddled with your plant. He lifted his head after examining it and continued, "I don't know." 

He looked at you, staring into your eyes. You stared at him back blankly. It was silent for several seconds as you tried to comprehend what the boy said. Only when his words fully registered in your mind did you start to freak out.

"What do you mean 'I don't know'? Aren't you a florist?" you shouted in panic.

"I'm new! And I was left in charge by the owner because he has some family matters to attend to!” he retorted. “I literally just started working on the day you came and got your plant! That was like…”

He stared into the ceiling as he tried to recall the day he saw you buy your beloved Spider Plant. You stared and frowned at the boy 一 Jungwon, as seen on his nametag 一 as he tried very hard to remember. Honestly, it seemed as if he had already forgotten about your problem. For a person who was supposed to be helping others with plants, he was terrible at it.

“2 weeks ago! Speaking of, how did you manage to kill your plant within 2 weeks?” he asked with a grin, his adorable dimples showing, only for it to falter when he saw your expression. “Did I get the time wrong?”

“Listen, Jungwon-” you started, but was cut off.

“How did you know my name?” Jungwon questioned, looking at you suspiciously.

“You’re wearing a name tag.”

“Oh.”

“Alright. Listen, Jungwon.” you tried again. “I just want my poor Hank to be healthy again. If you don’t know anything, I’d be better off searching on Google. And, by the way, you have no room to speak about my incapabilities to take care of Hank. I see you tripping over air while trying to reach your canteen table, although that's not too relevant with the topic.”

“How did you know that?” Jungwon asked you, looking at you suspiciously once again.

“We go to the same school. We’re in the same grade, you fool.” you answered him with a flat face, not amused with his words.

“Oh.” Jungwon mumbled, trying to recall whether he had seen you in school or not.

“I’ll give you time to process this information while I search for ways to revive my Hank.” you said, trying not to snicker at his expression.

Meanwhile, Jungwon was trying exceptionally hard to recall whether he had seen you in school. He blames it on his friends. Maybe if it weren’t for them being so hard to control, he would have remembered you. Especially since you were in his grade. How embarrassing of him. 

Honestly, he has never really shown any interest in anyone at school, so he has never bothered to remember the people around him. Except for his friends (he’s not so interested in them either) and his friend’s (namely Sunghoon) childhood friend. What’s their name again? They were very interesting. Actually, to think about it, they looked exactly like you! What if-

“Oh my god. You’re Sunghoon hyung’s childhood friend.” he blurted out.

You laughed. You laughed loudly. 

Jungwon was very embarrassed. How did he not remember you? He slowly sank onto his stool and hid his face between his hands, brown hair flopping onto the table. He knows his face and ears were as red as Rudolph’s nose, it could’ve brought a red rose to shame.

“You don’t have to hide, I can understand why you don’t remember me!” you reassured the poor boy in front of you and tried to stop your laugh, which you failed to do. “Earlier, I didn’t remember your name either, you know.”

“But still… it’s embarrassing!” he wailed, his words muffled by his hands. You laughed harder, making the boy shrink further into his seat.

“Well, you can make it up by helping me heal Hank. I just found out what’s wrong with it. I’ve been making it face direct sunlight.” you explained. “But apparently, Spider Plants aren’t supposed to have the sunlight directly on them.”

“Didn’t Mr. Yoon tell you exclusively to not do that?” he inquired, lifting his head to face you.

You were silent for a few seconds as the boy snorted at your guilty expression.

“Anyways, we need to soak it for a while.” you told him, pretending like you didn’t hear his previous statement.

“I’ll do it, give me Hank and I’ll soak it.” he offered as he lifted the pot off the table.

Jungwon took large strides towards the back of the shop as you watched him carry your cherished plant and tried to revive it.

“My name is Y/N, by the way!” you shouted after him. You walked over to the stool where Jungwon was previously seated and sat on it while you waited for the boy to finish.

“Well, Y/N, let’s get ice cream after this while we let Hank soak! I’m closing in around 20 minutes.” he suggested as he walked back to the front desk.

You thought about it for a while, before agreeing.

“That’s my seat, by the way.” he teased, earning an eye roll in return.

"I'll let you get your stool back. Only because you're cute." you said nonchalantly, smiling when you saw his cheeks bloom and how he tried to hide it by face-planting on the desk.

Let's just say that the flower shop did not get any new customers because a loud, high-pitched scream scared them away.

(And you had an amazing date hangout afterward.)