#the way people use them is so lazy and sloppy and it irritates me!

[rulesforthedance]

VALUVABLE ADVERNT□OMING

(ON MUILETMIDUDIA SOCIAL PLOFYORMS)

#impressed with ai's ability to make dumb spammy ads even dumber which I didn't think was possible #also. the pettiest reason to have a problem with the recent ubiquitous proliferation of ai-generated images but: #the way people use them is so lazy and sloppy and it irritates me! #so many articles written by human people even that are illustrated with some ai picture featuring #fucked up pseudo-text or unintended surrealism that distracts from the content with its weirdness #like. you have the thing make you a picture and then just slap it on your article or post with zero regard for whether it is Freaky #can you try? a little bit? to produce Content that looks like it was created by an adult professional? #not that I expect that from tumblr ads but this shit is everywhere rn lol

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: after you step in to defend Jackie against one of her boyfriend's sleazy friends, you realise helping the popular girl and starting beef with a jock has its consequences.

warnings: mentions of sexual assault, minor violence and underage drinking.

author's note: i keep getting people asking about posting more jackie stuff so i’m happy to share yet another fic! it’s three parts and it’s the last thing for now that i’ve written for her, so i hope you all like it 🥰

I collapsed on the grass outside, breathing out with relief once the fresh night air cooled me down and the music from inside wasn't so loud anymore. How I'd let Van convince me to attend a house party was beyond me, but as my best friend, she usually got her way.

Tonight though, I may have gotten a little carried away and drank more than usual, feeling somewhat lightheaded and lazy. Drunk me wasn't so fun, so I'd come outside to cool off and catch myself, away from the compact house of some jock I didn't know.

As I relaxed, trying to tune out the few teens that were milling around the front lawn, I heard a commotion by the front door. Some couple were arguing, their voices familiar as they left the house and grew louder.

"–can't just check out other girls right in front of me!"

"I wasn't! God, you're overreacting, Jackie, you always do this!"

I sat upright, pushing my hair from my eyes as I glanced in the direction of Van's soccer teammate and the most popular girl in our grade, Jackie Taylor, arguing with her boyfriend, Jeff Sadecki.

The last thing I cared about was their relationship troubles, but they were so damn loud and I was suddenly entertained by their back and forth. From what I could gather in my drunken state, Jeff had been distracted by some girls, flirting with one of them, but didn't deem it flirting like Jackie did.

"–just forget it, we're over!" Jackie shouted at him, throwing her cup on the grass with frustration.

Jeff scoffed. "Whatever. I don't need this."

He returned to the house as Jackie clenched her jaw, still angry. She fumbled for a cigarette and lighter from her purse with irritation, her clumsy hands betraying how much she'd drank tonight too. Thoughtlessly watching, I saw one of Jeff's friends, Leroy something-or-the-other, trail out the house and approach her.

Not shouting like Jeff and Jackie had been a moment ago, the two of them were talking and I couldn't hear their conversation. Or rather Leroy was chatting up Jackie and she was visibly uncomfortable, attempting to step back. He began to get touchy though, his hands grabbing her arm, and whether it was a sense of female camaraderie or my absolutely stupid alcohol-soaked brain, I felt the need to intervene.

Dragging myself up off the grass, I stumbled over to them and fixed Leroy with a glare.

"She clearly doesn't want you here," I said in what I hoped wasn't a babble of English.

"Back off, bitch," Leroy sneered at me, before stepping closer to Jackie and letting his hand slip to her butt.

Jackie jumped at his unwanted touch, hazel eyes widened with panic, and without thinking, I made a swing at Leroy's face, fist connecting with his nose in a sickening crack.

A groan escaped my lips as I grasped my hand – what the fuck was his face made of?! – and then I realised what I did as he stumbled back, clutching his face. I saw a glimpse of blood, and then Jackie's widened eyes looked between us, and I knew I was fucked.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, before making a sloppy swing at my head, to which I thankfully still had the instinct to duck away from.

Not ready to finish this fight I definitely didn't mean to start, I shoved him back to buy time then grabbed Jackie's hand, telling her quickly, "Time to go!"

Thankfully she got the hint and I yanked her away, the two of us running as fast as we could. Leroy chased after us and I risked glancing over my shoulder, watching him trip over his own feet and buying us enough time to leg it down the street.

"Here," I said breathlessly, pulling Jackie down behind a car.

The two of us practically held our breath as we kneeled down, frozen in place. I didn't doubt that Leroy would kill me, and her by association, and I began to wonder how I'd even ended up in this situation.

Jackie risked glancing around the back of the car before sighing with relief. "He's not following us."

Mirroring her sigh, I turned around and sank to the ground fully, back against the car. She joined my side, both of us reeling from what happened. I glanced down at my hand, aware that it should be hurting but not quite registering the pain. It was distant, the alcohol fogging my mind.

"What the hell was that?" Jackie asked, reminding me she was there.

Dazed, I tilted my head and stared at the road. "That wasn't your boyfriend, was it? I can't remember."

She let out a breath before giggling. "No. That was my ex-boyfriend's idiot friend."

Making sense of it all again, I nodded. "Right. Yeah. What a dick."

"Yeah," she agreed.

Feeling hot and a little dizzy, I tried to focus on the present and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her curled blonde hair bouncing as she did. "Yeah. Thanks to you." Hazel eyes flickered to mine in gratitude, and I could only shrug in response.

A silence fell upon us for a moment, and I suddenly became aware of how this was probably the most I'd ever spoken to Jackie Taylor in my life. We'd been in the same class since we were kids, and despite her being on the same soccer team as Van, there had never been need for us to converse. Until now, I guess.

"I feel sick," she suddenly said, and I noticed her face was a little pale.

"Then throw up," I said tiredly.

She scrunched her face with disgust, shaking her head. I shrugged, not caring, and then she leaned to the left and threw up a little. I pulled a face as she straightened up lazily, wiping her mouth.

"I've gotta go home," she said.

I checked my watch, but it did nothing to help because the hands were moving in all sorts of directions. "Same. I think."

She began to snicker, glancing sideways at me. "Leroy just might kill you."

A little delusional and finding her amusement contagious, I began to laugh. Leroy probably would, but right now, I couldn't care less.

She lifted a finger in the air with realisation. "Shauna," she exclaimed. "She'll drive."

"I can't leave Van," I remembered, as she stood up and yanked me up with her.

"I'll go get her," she promised, already tugging me back to the house, where Shauna's car was parked out front. "Don't move."

I saluted clumsily, waiting by Shauna's car and almost falling asleep against the door as Jackie seemed to take years to return. Finally, her, Van and Shauna all came back, Van shooting me an amused glance as she helped me off the door.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked with a stifled laugh. "Jackie said you punched Leroy?"

I waved a dismissive hand. "Barely."

She definitely wanted to know more but thankfully kept quiet as she helped me into the backseat, sliding in beside me.

"You two are gonna regret this in the morning," Shauna was saying from the driver's seat, but it went in one ear and out the other.

I vaguely remembered Shauna dropping me off home and Van helping me into my bedroom later that evening before passing out.

The next morning, my hangover hit me hard, but not harder than the pain from my broken knuckle. After waking up with a purple right hand, terrible memories from the night before reminded me of what I'd done, and after accepting that Leroy was going to kill me at some point, I went to the hospital with my mum who didn't seem to believe I'd punched a wall whilst drunk. Still, leaving with a splint and cast on my hand was worth it if it meant stopping some jerk from getting handsy.

School on the following Monday was definitely something to dread, mainly because I wasn't sure what would happen. Of course, after getting some stares off other students – word had undoubtedly spread about the incident – I stopped by my locker and was mildly surprised to see the word 'BITCH' scribbled in permanent marker pen across it.

"Lovely," I said sarcastically, before ignoring it, not wanting to give bystanders a show.

I opened it as usual and put my skateboard inside, mindful of my hand, when I felt someone bump into me from behind on purpose. I clenched my jaw when I turned and saw it was Leroy walking past, a bandage across his nose.

"Bitch," he muttered with bitterness.

"Yours truly." I returned his glare, before looking back to my locker.

If he was going to hate on me for stepping in as he sexually assaulted a girl, then let him. I'd never liked him anyway, the worst of Jeff's idiot friends. But hey, at least I'd broken his nose.

I'd like to say it ended there, but not even a moment later, his girlfriend whom I'd forgotten existed until she appeared by my side with a threatening glare, decided to defend his stupid arse.

"You better back off," she attempted to warn me. "I know it was you who broke his nose."

I quirked a brow with disbelief. "Do you know why?"

She scoffed. "Because you're a bitch."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if she was choosing to be this dense. "Tiffany, your arsehole boyfriend groped another girl."

She rolled her eyes. "Like I'd believe you."

I snorted with amusement. "Fine. Don't. I really don't care."

She stepped closer to me with narrowed eyes. "Stay the fuck away from us, bitch."

I rolled my eyes as she left, wondering how I'd managed to make so many enemies in the space of one night. Unfazed though, I continued to grab some books from my locker and ignored the looks I was getting from students with nothing better to do. This would all blow over in a few days, I just knew it.

When I closed my locker, I jumped, startled, when I saw Jackie stood behind it.

"Jesus," I said, clutching my chest. "A warning would be nice."

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, before her eyes fell to the cast on my hand and widened slightly. "Fuck."

"Hi to you too," I replied sarcastically.

She shook her head apologetically before meeting my gaze. "Friday night. That was... a lot."

I nodded, just as uncomfortable as she sounded. "Uh huh."

She pursed her lips, glancing at my graffiti'd locker. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. But I'm thankful for your help. You really showed him."

Not wanting her to feel bad, I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, his brick head kind of broke my knuckle, but it was totally worth it."

She cracked a small smile, eyes flickering to my hand again. "Sorry."

I shrugged her apology off easily. "Seriously, Jackie, you don't need to say anything. Honestly, we were both drunk and I probably could have handled the situation better, but what's done is done. We're good."

She relaxed a little, nodding in agreement, though I couldn't tell if she was satisfied by my response. When she didn't say anything, I held my books to my chest awkwardly.

"So... see you in class," I said.

"Right," she agreed, and then we both turned to walk to class, only to fall into step with one another. "Same class," she mumbled when she noticed, and I tried not to laugh.

"Same class," I agreed, and a silence fell between us as we reached the classroom.

After exchanging a final glance, we split off to our seats, her joining Shauna's side as I found my usual spot next to Van. When she spotted me, she was already laughing at the sight of my bandaged hand.

"I can't believe you punched him," she said instantly, making me roll my eyes.

"Glad this is funny to you," I said playfully, giving her a disapproving look.

She continued to tease me. "I leave you alone for five minutes, Y/N! God, I wish I could've seen it. Everybody's talking about it. Apparently you broke Leroy's nose."

"Something like that," I mumbled as she laughed with amazement.

She continued to ramble about what people had been saying, enjoying how awkward I was at the attention, and I let my eyes wander around the classroom as I tried to tune her out. They subconsciously drifted to Jackie, who was listening to something Shauna was saying to her, and then she glanced at me and I quickly looked away, embarrassed I'd been caught.

—

I was relieved to see that the graffiti on my locker had been scrubbed off (terribly, but I wasn't complaining) by the cleaners last night, as when I showed up to school the next morning, it was gone. My headphones were on as I replaced my books for the morning, mindlessly getting ready for homeroom.

There was nothing out of the ordinary as I did, my eyes glancing around casually, and then I saw Jackie a little ways down the hall, leaning against the lockers with her apparently-not-so-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. I couldn't care less, but she must have felt my eyes as she awkwardly made eye contact, smile fading slightly, and I looked away. Whether she was back with Jeff or not wasn't my business – she was barely a friend, let alone someone whose relationship I cared for – but it felt strange knowing she would choose to go back to him after everything that had happened.

Once I'd grabbed my books, I pulled my headphones off and stuffed them and my walkman into my backpack. I was forced to walk past a flirtatious Jackie and Jeff, eyes trained ahead, and tried not to think much more on it as I went to homeroom.

I settled at my desk, flicking through my English book when I saw Van wasn't here yet, and began to look over my homework a final time before next period. In my own world, I was startled when someone appeared at my desk, looking up to see Jackie stood there.

"Er... hi?" I greeted with a quirked brow.

She swallowed awkwardly, looking uncomfortable. "What you saw just then, with Jeff and I..."

When she didn't continue, I pressed, "What?"

"It's not like it seems," she finished, cheeks tinged pink.

I wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain herself to me of all people, but I answered, "What, that you're back together?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding slightly.

Tilting my head and playing along, I asked, "Well, are you?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, yeah, but–"

"Cool," I cut her off, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "It's none of my business."

She scoffed slightly. "Yeah, but you're gonna think I'm being stupid after everything that happened–"

Growing tired of this conversation, I said, "Being stupid? You think I think it's stupid that your boyfriend was flirting with other girls and then his friend sexually assaulted you and you're still going back to him?" I tutted sarcastically. "Nah, not stupid at all."

She tensed her jaw slightly, clutching her books to her chest. "It's not like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Then why are you telling me? You've never cared what I thought before."

She let out a low groan, having no reply, and simply walked away to her seat. Okay, so maybe I was being a little harsh, but it was just odd that she suddenly cared what I thought. And yes, I was judging her terrible life choices, but it wasn't my business.

It didn't matter anyway. I wasn't expecting this to be much of a problem now that she'd (terribly) explained herself to me.

—

Maybe I underestimated how long jocks could hold grudges for, or maybe I was just stupid for not knowing Leroy would never let things go. All I knew was that my one punch was never letting me live it down, nor letting me go back to being just acquaintances with Jackie Taylor.

About a week after Jackie felt the need to explain her getting back together with Jeff, I was skateboarding home from school like I always did. The crossing on the road was clear, so I started to ride across, headphones on my head as I did. I saw a car in my peripheral vision, but it was further down the road and they could obviously see me, so I thought nothing of it.

That was until it suddenly beeped and stopped right next to me, scaring the shit out of me and making my foot catch the ground, my skateboard slipping out from under me. Heart racing in my chest, I pulled my headphones from my head and sat up, just in time to hear a voice I definitely didn't want to.

"Watch out, loser!"

I looked to my left to see Jeff and Leroy laughing in Jeff's car, impressed with themselves and their ability to startle me. But the real frustration kicked in when I saw Jackie sat in the passenger's seat, flushed red with embarrassment and guilt as she glanced at me. Why was I not surprised?

Clenching my jaw, I stood up and ignored their laughter, instead grabbing my skateboard and finishing crossing the road. They beeped again as they drove off, but I didn't bother sparing them a glance.

My opinion on Jackie Taylor up until this point was practically nonexistent. In my eyes, she was just some popular girl in school who was nice enough to everyone, kind to my best friend who happened to be on the same soccer team as her, and that was it. We rarely crossed paths or spoke, and I'd never thought about her other than if she was right in front of me.

Now, however, she seemed to be in my life a lot more because of one stupid night, and I found my opinion of her worsening as I judged her poor choice of boyfriend and those she surrounded herself with.

The next day at school, almost to my amusement if I wasn't so irritated by everything that had happened, Jackie found me in homeroom at my desk again. I had a strong sense of deja vu as she hovered before me, uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," she spoke first.

I blinked, expressionless, definitely not in the mood for this. "Hi."

It took her a moment to find her words, in which I was growing a little more annoyed by her apparent innocence.

"Yesterday...," she started, "I didn't mean for–"

"What?" I interrupted. "Your jackass boyfriend and his jackass friend to act like jackasses?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

Was she always this irritating? I couldn't remember anymore.

"It's cool, Jackie," I decided to end the conversation, afraid I'd say something I'd regret. "I didn't expect anything less from tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber."

I looked back down to my notebook, hoping she'd leave and we could be done with our lives, but she felt the need to keep going.

"He's not always like that," she said gently. "I swear, he–"

"Did you come here just to defend him?" I asked with surprise. "Because I don't wanna hear it."

She frowned, irritable. "No, I just– I wanted you to know that."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Great apology. Thanks."

Clenching her jaw slightly, she said, "If you gave me a chance to speak, I'd say it."

"Whatever," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and returning my attention to my book.

She huffed with disapproval, making me glance at her with a slight glare. Her playing innocent game was getting old.

"FYI, if you're dating a jackass, that kinda makes you one too," I reminded her when she didn't leave.

She returned my glare before turning on her heel and leaving for her desk. Van soon showed up, taking her seat beside me but noticing the blonde leaving.

"Jackie still on you about your hand?" she asked with amusement. "I keep telling her to get over it, that you're okay. But she feels bad."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of her. "Can't feel that bad if she's still hanging around with douche one and douche two."

Taken aback, Van gave me a look. "Woah, who shit in your cereal this morning?"

I shook my head dismissively, releasing a breath. "Sorry. Nothing. Just tired, I guess."

She clearly didn't believe me, and when I looked up at her, I saw her glancing over to where Jackie was sat, but I refused to look that way. Van smiled in that direction though, greeting her teammate, before giving me a confused look.

"Did you guys fight or something? She looks like you kicked her dog."

"No," I said with mild irritation, before facing forward. "Can we drop this?"

Van chuckled quietly. "Sure, weirdo."

—

Later that day, I was staring out the window in Chemistry class whilst I waited for other students to make their way in and for class to start. When I felt a presence beside me, I assumed it was my lab partner, Dennis, and straightened up to greet him with a smile, but then I saw it was Jackie placing her bag on the desk and pulling out the stool.

"The hell are you doing?" I asked with furrowed brows, watching as she got comfortable. "Dennis sits there."

"Not today he doesn't," she said knowingly, before waving a hand to Dennis who waved some cash in the air with gratitude.

I dropped my jaw with disbelief. "You paid him?"

She turned to face me, her honey-coloured eyes meeting mine guiltily. "I want to say sorry for real. The only reason you're getting all this aggression from Leroy is because you stuck up for me."

I gave her a sarky look. "Kind of, yeah."

She sighed, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't even want Leroy there yesterday, but he needed a ride home and Jeff said yeah. It's no excuse though."

I pressed my lips together, eyes studying her straight face curiously. There was a hint of sincerity somewhere there, and maybe finally putting this to bed would bring things back to normal. But then a smile grew on her lips and any chance of forgiving her went out the window.

"This doesn't make me a jackass now, does it?"

I lifted my brows with disbelief, her pride frustrating me. "Wow. Is that what this is about?"

She shook her head. "No. Of course not. But you should know that I'm not like that."

"Is the only reason you're apologising to change the way I view you?"

Again, she shook her head nonchalantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe she was nice on the surface, but Jackie Taylor didn't seem genuine in the slightest.

"You know what? Fuck this," I told her, beginning to pack my books away. "I don't need to forgive you and I don't need your fake apologies or games. Just leave me alone. Things were a lot easier before I decided to be nice to you."

She watched me gather my things with bewilderment. "That's not fair."

I stood up and shot her an impatient look. "Whatever. You stick to your delusional princess land with your dick boyfriend and his friends and I'll stick to being a loser. Sound good?"

Her mouth opened with surprise, both offended and taken aback. "Y/N, just– where are you going?"

"To find my actual lab partner," I snapped, before moving past her to find Dennis.

I was beginning to think breaking my knuckle wasn't worth it. Getting involved with Jackie only seemed to bring me misfortune.

—

A few days passed with Jackie finally seeming to leave me alone. Don't get me wrong, I would occasionally catch her eyes in the hallway or in class, or sometimes she'd need to chat to Van about something and I'd awkwardly wait for her to finish before she'd leave, but she seemed to give up on bothering me with her half arsed apologies.

As for Leroy and his girlfriend, they clearly still held some sort of grudge for me, shooting me glares whenever they saw me. It got to a point where they seriously needed to get over themselves, though I guess that was hard when Leroy's broken nose was a constant reminder that he got decked in the face by a girl.

I was walking down the hallway when I resisted the urge to roll my eyes upon seeing Leroy and Tiffany walking in the opposite direction. I purposely avoided their gaze, not wanting to get into a confrontation with them, but Leroy purposely bumped into my shoulder with force, making me drop my books, and that was my last straw.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I exclaimed, before picking up my books.

"What did you just say?" Leroy stopped, turning around to fix me with a glare.

I clenched my jaw as I returned it twice as hostile. "You really need to grow up. Your big rock of a head is still in tact, so what's your problem? You think you'd get over this by now."

He looked like he wanted to punch me, but Tiffany stepped forward instead.

"Watch your mouth, bitch," she hissed, making me groan loudly with disbelief.

"He literally harassed another girl, and probably others too!" I reminded her. "Are you insane?!"

"Don't listen to her," Leroy said to her coolly. "She's just jealous."

"I know, baby, I know."

I laughed bitterly, looking between them like they were the world's strangest exhibit. Bystanders were starting to look at the three of us now, probably expecting a fight, but I seriously didn't care.

"You need to get a life and stay out of ours, loser," Leroy threatened me, fist clenching by his side.

"How fucking ironic," I said, shaking my head. "You're the one who won't get over yourself."

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you a broken nose," Tiffany attempted to threaten me, stepping forward, but she wasn't intimidating in the slightest. "You deserve it after hurting him."

I snorted with amusement. "I would love to see you try." When she squeezed her fists by her side, I glanced at her stupid boyfriend. "What? Can't fight your own battles, big man?"

Steam was practically leaving their ears as they glowered at me, and then the next events happened too quickly for me to make sense of.

Jackie came out of nowhere and stepped between Tiffany and I, saying, "Okay, how about we just–"

But Tiffany punched forward, aiming for me but Jackie got in the way at the same time and Tiffany's fist landed on her face. My eyes widened as Jackie stumbled back into me, clutching her nose, and both Tiffany and Leroy watched on with wide eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shouted, before holding Jackie upright as I went to look over her face. When I moved her hand away slightly, there was blood streaming from her nose and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my god!"

"What the hell, Jackie!" Tiffany cried out, holding her hand with pain.

"Are you kidding right now?!" Jackie retorted before wincing and holding her nose again, head tilted up to stop the bleeding.

"Okay, everyone move aside!" a teacher pushed through the crowd of entertained students surrounding us. When she spotted Jackie's bleeding nose, she said, "Miss Taylor, you need to go to the nurse's office–"

"I'll take her," I said quickly, before fixing Tiffany with a glare.

"You," the teacher continued, looking to Tiffany, "with me, now."

I didn't wait any longer to watch the death stares from Leroy and Tiffany, instead guiding Jackie to the nurse's office. I still couldn't believe she'd stepped in like that, and also that Tiffany had it in her to punch me. I didn't think she'd actually do it.

"Oh my god, it's running down my throat," Jackie whined with disgust, looking forward again. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Ssshhh, we're almost there," I cut her complaining off, though a large part of me felt extremely guilty.

When we reached the nurse's office, I immediately guided her to the bed to sit upright, whilst the nurse seemed to catch on and immediately jumped into action. I stood back and watched as the nurse gave her some gauze to hold to her nose.

"Is it broken?" Jackie asked with wet eyes, a little dramatically.

"No, dear, it's just a bloody nose," the nurse assured her, before glancing at me. "There's not much else I can do. Just keep changing the gauze and have her drink some water."

I nodded. "Will do. Thanks."

She offered a smile before heading to the other side of the room to finish helping out another student. I watched her leave before joining Jackie's bedside and looking to her with disbelief.

"What the fuck was that?!" I asked.

She moved the gauze so it wasn't blocking her mouth and motioned to her face. "I was trying to stop this from happening."

"A little fucking late," I said sarcastically.

"I figured," she snapped, before her face scrunched up with pain and she closed her eyes momentarily.

My jaw slowly relaxed as I really took the state of her in. The guilt pressed down on my chest – this wasn't her fight and she was certainly not the type of girl to get into one in the first place. Seeing her bloody nose and stained shirt was like seeing a puppy get kicked, and my irritation definitely wasn't helping.

"You shouldn't have got involved," I said with a sigh, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She opened her eyes, bright hazel ones swimming with guilt. "I just wanted to make things right. Show you that I really am sorry. It's not about how you view me and it's not a game. I'm just sorry."

Unlike the last time, she seemed genuine with her apology, and paired with her puppy dog eyes and bloody nose, it was hard for me not to give in.

"Fuck, fine, I forgive you," I breathed out.

She began to smile with relief before leaning back slightly. I frowned, eyes flickering over her guiltily, before I grabbed the spare gauze at her bedside and gently replaced the one in her hand.

"It looks like it's stopping," I said, disposing of the bloody gauze. "God, you're insane."

"It fucking hurts," she cursed, grimacing.

I tried not to smile as I wet a cloth in the bowl beside her bed. "It was barely a real punch. Tiffany's hand took most of the damage."

She narrowed her eyes at me as I began to wipe the dried-up blood from her nose and mouth with the wet cloth. "Tell that to my face."

A small smile of amusement broke out on my lips. "This was stupid, Jackie."

She sighed, removing the gauze so I could clean around her nostrils. "Probably."

The bridge of her nose was a little swollen and bright red, but at least the bleeding had stopped. God, as if Jackie Taylor got punched in the face for me. I literally never could have predicted that.

Once I cleaned her up, the nurse returned to give her some painkillers and an ice pack before making arrangements for her to be picked up from school.

"I'm sorry, I'd drive you home myself, but I don't have a car," I said with an apologetic smile.

She shook her head. "It's okay. You already stayed with me longer than you needed to. I'm just glad things are good between us again."

I exhaled softly, surprised that she cared this much. We were indifferent to one another, that was our thing. Whether it was because she felt she owed me after I broke my knuckle, or she was just trying to prove that she wasn't a bad person, I was left wondering why she was going through all this effort for a friendship that barely existed.

After she went home, it was easy to say that word of the fiasco spread around school like wildfire. Tiffany had been given a month of detention apparently, and I didn't see Leroy for the rest of the day, thankfully. Van found me after school, the two of us planning to walk home together, and that was where I debriefed her about everything that happened.

"Holy shit, what I would pay to see Jackie get decked in the face!" she exclaimed with a grin.

I quirked a brow. "Aren't you literally teammates?"

"Not in a mean way," she added quickly. "Like, it would still be funny though. Funnier if it was you, of course."

I shoved her in the arm with my good hand as she chuckled.

"I feel bad enough as it is, so no jokes," I warned her.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she assured me with a knowing look, before pausing and adding, "Though if someone says they're gonna punch you in the face, you probably shouldn't tell them you'd love to see them try."

I tried not to laugh as I shot her a look. "How was I supposed to know she'd actually do it?"

Van began to laugh again. "God, I wish I was there."

"You've only said a million times," I said with a disapproving stare, though a smile tugged at my lips.

Despite the jokes Van wouldn't stop making on the walk home, I still felt extremely guilty and couldn't stop thinking about poor Jackie. How our lives had become so intertwined in the space of two weeks was beyond me, but I suddenly felt responsible for her.

The next day at school, I saw her by her locker with Shauna before homeroom. Even from a distance, I could make out the slight swelling on her nose and it only deepened the guilt I felt. We'd technically resolved everything between us yesterday, but I felt the need to go over there and check on her to see how she was doing.

After dropping some stuff off at my locker, I went over to her and Shauna with a small smile. They noticed me and their conversation ceased, the two of them returning my smile with their own.

"Hey," Shauna greeted first.

I nodded her way before my eyes settled on Jackie, and Shauna seemed to get the hint as she politely dismissed herself, leaving us alone.

"Hey," Jackie greeted warmly.

"Hi," I said, eyes scanning her face. "How's the–?" I gestured to my own nose as I asked.

"Hurts," she admitted with a small smile, "but I covered the bruising. It's still a little swollen, but it'll be fine."

I frowned guiltily when I noticed the extra makeup she'd used to cover the red-purple bruise that had formed on the bridge of her nose. She'd done a good job, but it was still peeking through a little bit.

"It's okay," she said when she noticed my expression, before lightheartedly nodding to my bandaged hand. "Consider us even."

That didn't make me feel better at all, and I shook my head. "It shouldn't have happened. As Van kindly pointed out to me, I egged Tiffany on and she was supposed to punch me. It's not the same thing as me stepping in to defend you."

Jackie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's okay, Y/N, really. Besides, maybe her and Leroy will finally back off now."

I hummed, partially agreeing, though I knew this was still my fault.

"By the way," she added, "I broke up with Jeff."

At this, I raised my eyebrows with surprise. "What?"

Her lips pressed together into a faint smile as she looked down. "Yeah, you were right about what you said. He and his friends are jackasses. And I can do a lot better."

I wasn't sure what to say at first, not expecting her to have actually listened to what I said. But then I nodded slightly, acknowledging her words.

"You can," I found myself saying. "Do a lot better, I mean."

She breathed out with amusement. "Thanks... anyway, I should get my things, but see you in class."

"Yeah, see you," I said, still a little shocked, but nodding nonetheless.

#jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor imagine #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor #yellowjackets imagine #yellowjackets #ella purnell

[muffindaddystyles]

LOVE ME, WRESTLE ME.

Boyfriendrry blurb of some smutty and fluffy thought.

Taking online classes, resting, doing assignments, then spending some time with Harry and watching a movie at night that always ends up in a good fuck isn't boring but it's insipid.

The cooe of rain outside's soothing and tranquil enough to fill in already comfortable silence between you people, your lips murmuring around the instinctive words from the scrabby page of the Oscar Wilde's; The selfish giant. Your knees are hiked up sitting in the love seat opposite to where Harry's sitting on the messy-ly made bed since you both were feeling a tad lazy and in mood to procrastinate house chores.

You're constantly loosing your focus, because you're terribly horny at the moment and Harry in a baggy yellow pawy sweater spread on his tummy over the bed doing nothing but staring at you like he'd swallow you whole isn't helping at all with the ache between your thighs.

So, you do what was needed to be done.

His eyes follows your commotion as you leave your spot kneeing up on the edge of bed, your crotch against his face and you look down at him with a witty smirk.

"Wrestle me." Your voice challenging. You arch your brow with profound irritation when he intentionally dismisses you off by rumbling his lips to blow away the curls falling over his dooey eyes.

"Pardon?" He creates a noise, within a click of his tongue or his hand against your bare thigh (fondling the soft skin he's obsessed with) that dries your throat with hunger. He heard it right. There was no wavering in what you invited him for.

You guys have this game where he has to make you cum within two minutes and you've to wrestle him off, if you loose and cum you've to keep him warm and sloppy in your mouth until it turns into a nice blowie so it's a win win either way.

You fail every time. Most of it is very obvious.

But, right now he's trying to rile your nerves up by acting like an utterly supine cow.

"Hmm?" The questioning hum turns into a giggly squeal when he grabs your ankle and throws you onto the mattress like a rag doll, "S' fuckin' insatiable all the time ..." He growls towering above you, pushing your thighs apart with a tight grip to your soft fleshy insides that makes you hiss. A laugh pits up in your belly from the thrill of shutting them back and fighting him off to piss him further.

Ofcourse him being stronger than you fails you to do so and a loud moan bubbles around you when he licks his palm till the tips of his fingers and smacks your already soaking centre harshly.

"Fuck." You mewl softly sinking into sheets when he yanks your shorts down leaving you in nothing but his large hoodie, your pussy lips flutter from the heated sensation of your stickiness coming in contact with the sting of his chilly rings.

He pins your wrist atop your head and fits himself between your wide opened legs grinding his hard (trouser clad) prick against your heating centre in vigorous rubs, leaving a burn with every stroke and making you loose your stance with the growing desire to have his fingers inside you.

"C'mon fight me now." He grits. Glowering down at you sternly and your tummy coils against his's pelvis with each nasty roll of his hips, you gasp around a sob when he nips at the soft skin of your jaw. He wants you to surrender yourself to him but your ego's more than that so with a trick of pulling at his hair you flip him on his back and crawl up to straddle his torso jerking his shoulder down.

"Aha!" You grin in a victory. His brows pinches down furiously and before you know his calloused hand came spanking your butt-cheek making your face smash into the crook of his neck with an unexpected vulgar series of moans, "Bratty little fuck doll." He grunts landing another spank right where the first one left crimson imprints, again and again till you're a squirming crying mess.

He slides his two fingers down your puckering rim to where you're dripping with wetness and teases your entrance by never dipping them in till the end but rather stroking the spongy wall of your soppy cunt.

You squeal when he flips you on your tummy and leans all his weight over your back to glide his hand between the compact space of their bottoms, he patches breathy kisses to the side of your neck leaving love marks, sliding in his fingers deep inside that when you feel a certain crack resonating to your ears and shooting pain till your toes making them jelly.

You're fucked.

It all happened from your arm placed at the weird angle while he had your hips in air.

"Harry, I think. I might've broken my wrist." You stammer in a calm voice though, barely able to speak when the pang in your joint's inflaming like a wildfire along with the pleasure that's subsiding into an akward spasmy feeling as you pulsates around his fingers.

"Sucha bullshit excuse to mice outta yer defeat." He rasps to you smugly. Your face scrunches up in pain and your head falls into the throw pillow.

"No . ." You shake your head quickly gulping down the thick tears down your throat and when his head clears out from the fog of lust, noticing the weakness in your words he immediately pulls his digits out, "Holy ... Fuck." You try to stay placid knowing his insides are ticking in panic and is about to explode in one, two and —

"Baby -– how — how are y'so calm? Is it hurting? Show me." The shift in his demeanor is adorable as minutes ago he was about to rail you to unconsciousness and now he's the softest cutest caring boyfriend.

Tears prickles at your waterline when he presses his thumb into your wrist bone ever so diligently and it jolts severe pain up your arm.

"I think it's, 'm so so sorry baby. We should go to hospital. Stay here, yeah?" He tells you cupping your cheeks worriedly and rushes to fetch a wet rag when you nod through a sniff and wobbly lips.

He cleans you off, shushing you with tender kisses to your ankles when the throb got overwhelming. Helps you wearing your jeans and shoes being careful not to hurt your wrist any further in doing so.

"It's okay, you're okay lovie —- if the pain's too much —--- dunno we should probably run to hospital." He's out of breath snatching the keys and his coat taking glances of you after every second to make sure you're okay, more like assuring himself, "Bub it wasn't your fault. It was an accident, I can endure a lil bit pain." Through the whole call ride he was jittery and twitchy waiting for to reach the clinic speedily.

He has you embraced by his side with a careful support of his palm under your wrist so it wouldn't dangle that much as he walks you inside.

The doctor sitting infront of you two stares at the way you both are flushed, rosy cheeks, ruffled hair and sheened skin radiating 'we were in the middle of having great sex.' But, she chooses not to speak as you shrink to Harry's side timidly from the embarrassment and shyness.

Harry just passes you a nervous smile squeezing your shoulder to cheer you up and nudges you when the doctor asks the ever awaiting question.

"So . . . How did it happen?"

"Cupboard —-" You speak.

"She fell of —-" And he speaks at the same time.

You look at eachother with wide shocked eyes but then he clear his throat allowing you to speak, "I was putting some dishes up in the cupboard when I lost my footing and knocked my wrist against it." The doctor surely didn't give into your guys shit. Nodding along to your made up story.

You guys feel exposed when the doctor spoke inspecting Y/N wrist, "The injury caused from the pressure of weight, splinting the bone away and tearing the muscle too ... nothing that wouldn't heal in two weeks. You'll be good with an arm cast and these pain killers."

When you step out into the waiting corridor it feels like your secret has been revealed to every single person sitting there and you pull the strings of your hoodie to cover your face and Harry chuckles kissing your head at your silliness.

Once in the privacy of car he speaks looking at your cast properly, "One thing fo' sure that game isn't made fo' us -- you're too delicate to play it just fo' fun and thrill. Next, time just ask me to fuck you baby and I'll surely do it happily." He sighs a puff of breath kissing your cast and patting it lightly jerking back in horror when you yelp.

"Ouch!" He takes your jaw to kiss your lips upon seeing you grinning at your own misheviousness.

"Ye' batty little creature, stop messin' with your poor boyfriend!" He grumps cheekily at your playfullness.

"'M sorry, daddy will you take care of me?" You blink sickly coy through your lashes. Pouting up at him innocently and he shakes his head bopping your nose.

"You just wait and watch." He kisses the side of your head while reversing the car.

"How about we start from drawing dicks on ye' cast, hmm? How bout that?" He smirks and you gasp surprised at his antics.

"Harry!" The car fills up with laughter and giggles until he takes a rough turn.

"You better drive safe else 'm walking home!"

#harry styles imagines #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #harry styles #cute harry #fluff #IDK IF YOULL LIKE IT BUT THIS IDEA WAS SWIMMING IN MY DIRTY HEAD FOR SO LONG UNTIL IT ENDED UP BEING A FLUFF

[mostlymaudlin]

@carryon-countdown day 25: sleepover

rated T, 2k. part of stoner au. :D

tags: penny & baz are besties, sometimes u just have to remind ur friends u love them, friends for a reason friends for a season friends for life type beat, this is about friendship simon has like 2 lines, girls night, absolutely no toenail painting

PENELOPE

Sometimes it really does feel like I need to make new friends. It’s hard, though. I don’t like introducing new people into my life — I don’t like people.

Agatha used to just be my friend. We didn’t have many similar interests, but we lived in the dorms together freshman year and it just sort of worked. We’d sit in our room, me reading, Agatha painting her nails. Every so often, one of us would tell the other a bit of gossip, or describe something weird we saw someone do that day. It was chill. It was fun.

We stopped hanging out as much when she started dating Simon. That was okay, too, because I had started dating Shepard. What wasn’t fine was how Agatha ghosted me when she dumped Simon. It was all kind of harsh. She was graduating early, and then she fucked off to a graduate program in the States. Doesn’t even answer my texts.

So until recently, it’s just been Simon, Shepard and I. But the balance is off. Simon’s a Shepard hog, to be honest. And Shepard’s a Simon hog. And I’m obviously ecstatic that my best friend and my boyfriend get along so well. But sometimes I feel like I’m third-wheeling them.

Sometimes it becomes really apparent that, even though they both love me, they just get along better with each other. I don’t like sitting around and watching stupid shit and rolling joints. They don’t want to read my book recommendations, and they don’t understand when I get stressed out about exams.

And that’s all fine. We all have roles to play in each other’s lives, and I love the roles they play in mine. I just wish I had someone in my life who not only understood and accepted me, but also was a little bit more like me.

I used to think that maybe Baz could be my outside-of-the-friend-group friend. We got on well in classes. Sometimes, we’d teeter on the edge of hanging out beyond the library. But now that he’s dating Simon, he’s been sucked into his vortex.

It’s fine fine fine. I try not to be jealous. I try to remember that I’m luckier than most — that I couldn’t be lonely if I tried, not with the way the three of them hang off me. But there are moments like this where I can’t help but turn sour.

“Baaaaaaaabe!” Simon calls across the library, ignoring all the irritated glances he gets from all the people in our vicinity. Baz is such a stickler about being respectful in the library, but he’s preening at Simon’s attention. When Simon gets close enough, Baz reaches up to pull him into a sloppy, lazy kiss. I try to focus on the study guide Baz and I have been building, but they’ve decided they’re competing for the Guinness Record for loudest, grossest kiss in the world.

Simon releases Baz’s lips with a wet pop, then turns his beam toward me.

“Pen!” he says, setting a large, sweet-smelling Starbucks cup down in front of Baz. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he blushes a bit, lowering his voice when he speaks again. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’d have gotten you a tea!”

“That’s my bad,” Baz says, eyes apologetic. “I forgot we were meeting up when I sent him my caffeine plea earlier.”

“Whatever,” I say, shrugging. I’m used to it.

Simon litters Baz’s face with kisses before he takes off again — apparently there’s some damsel in distress. (The distress is that there is peanut butter clogging her phone’s charging port.)

When Baz finishes staring dreamily at Simon’s disappearing figure, he turns back to me and nudges his Starbucks cup toward me.

“We can share, if you want?” he says. I wrinkle my nose.

“What is it?” I ask, knowing the answer will be disgusting.

“A creme brulee latte,” he says, and I stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. His lip quirks up on one side. “With a shot of vanilla. And whipped cream. Topped with caramel drizzle and cinnamon.”

“They’re going to poison you one day,” I say, sliding the cup back toward him. He laughs before taking a sip.

“I had Simon leave a $20 tip,” he says. “I try to make up for my coffee sins.”

I laugh a little, despite my tetchy mood.

“Sorry I didn’t think to have him get you something,” Baz says again. I’m being too transparent, I think. He keeps shooting me these worried glances, even as he starts setting his pens and highlighters back up to start working again. (He has a system. For everything. It’s mad. But he’s brilliant, so there must be something to it.) I shrug, tapping my pencil against the table as I wait for him to set his writing utensils in a straight line.

“I’m used to it,” I mutter. Baz’s hands pause, and he looks up at me with an eyebrow raised.

“Used to not getting tea?” he prods. I look away, a bit embarrassed. Baz is definitely clocking the heat I can feel in my cheeks.

“Never mind,” I say, sliding a textbook toward me. “Let’s get back to work.”

Baz’s hand lands on my wrist, tugging a bit. I meet his eyes, and they’re concerned.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. His voice is low (respectful of the library) and gentle (respectful of my feelings).

And everything is fine. I’m fine! To even imply that it’s not — that’s why my chin is wobbling a bit. His ridiculous question has tears welling in my eyes. Because it’s ridiculous.

Baz drops his pen on the table. It rolls into his other supplies, disrupting them like a row of dominos. A pencil drops to the floor as he comes around the table to sit in the chair next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to pull me against his chest.

It is mortifying to cry in the library. But I woke up early this morning for work, and I’m a little stressed about this exam we’re studying for even though it’s not for a week. And my mother sent me a passive aggressive text that I haven’t gotten a chance to tell Shepard about yet. And my little sister told me she didn’t want my help finding a dress for a school dance. And Simon didn’t bring me tea, because Baz forgot about me, and I’m just not having a great day! I’m not my best! I’m crying in the bloody library, my face stuffed in Baz’s expensive shirt collar, tears soaking into his skin alongside his fruity, woodsy cologne.

Baz is rubbing my back, making comforting noises. Nobody is giving us any trouble. Baz and I have discussed this before — crying in the library is the exception to the noise etiquette. When I’ve calmed myself to snuffles, Baz pulls back a bit to look at my face.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he says. It’s a demand, not a question, which for some reason makes me less apt to go into waterfall mode again. I hide my face against his chest again. He lets me.

“I feel left out sometimes,” I admit. Baz squeezes me tightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s letting me say my piece. It all comes tumbling out. “I don’t smoke or drink, and I know I can be a buzzkill when I’m always wound up about work or school. And I know you get wound up with those things, but you’re also so wound up in Simon. It just makes me feel like an outlier.”

Baz rubs my back for a moment, waiting to see if I’m done.

“I’m sorry we’ve made you feel that way,” he murmurs. “But Penelope, you have to know that you’re the glue of this group. I’m so thankful to have you in my life — and all our friends by extension.”

I sigh, pulling away.

“Don’t feel bad,” I say. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m thankful for you too, but it’s not like we were friends before you started dating Simon.”

Baz frowns, then flicks my arm. I glare at him.

“I thought we were friends,” he says, brow furrowed. “In class. Not as close as we are now, obviously, but I’ve always enjoyed your company.”

“We’re close now?”

Baz laughs, but it’s strained — color blooms in his tan cheeks, and he runs a hand back through his hair.

“Christ, Penelope, now I might cry in the library,” Baz says. “It’s embarrassing to say this now, but I consider you to be one of my closest friends. I know I’ll never surpass Simon in your friendship ranks, but I was hoping I was a bit higher on the list.”

I smack his arm, and he puts his hand over the spot as if I’ve mortally wounded him, giving me wide eyes.

“Basil! Simon’s different — he’s like my brother. But you’re definitely higher on the list. Right at the top.”

Baz’s face cracks into a smile. Mine mirrors it. It’s ridiculous, is what it is.

“I feel like we just DTR-ed,” Baz whispers, making me laugh at a volume inappropriate for the library. “Bestie status achieved.”

“Bestie status achieved,” I agree.

Baz takes his phone out of his pocket, and I watch as he pulls up our group chat with Simon and Shepard. (Simon's contact is “Light of My Life<333” in his phone. Shepard’s is “Love<333.” With satisfaction, I notice I’m labelled “Girl Genius<333.”)

“What are you doing?” I ask. My phone vibrates as with the text he sends, and our friends’ rapid responses, but I read over his shoulder instead.

Baz: Simon, you’re staying at Shepard’s tonight. Penny and I are having a girl's night.

Love<333: I want to have girl’s night!

Light of My Life<333: Can I come back late for snuggles?

Love<333: Are my snuggles not good enough for you?

Simon and Shepard devolve from there, reassuring each other of their love for one another. Baz rolls his eyes, pocketing his phone and grinning at me.

“I’m not doing face masks and painting your nails,” I tell Baz. He’s up now, neatly putting his school supplies away. I suppose our study guide can wait. This exam is a week away.

Baz scoffs at me, waving his perfectly manicured black-painted fingernails in my face.

“I only let professionals touch my nails,” he says, oozing every bit of his trust fund baby status. I laugh.

“You let Simon paint your nails just the other day!” I complain.

“Those were my toenails, and he begged with puppy dog eyes!” Baz defends. “Do you have Simon puppy dog eyes? Do I need to let you touch my feet to solidify our friendship?”

“No,” I laugh. We’ve gathered our stuff now, and are headed out of the library. “I already said I didn’t want to paint your nails. Especially if your stinky feet are involved.”

Baz sniffs, but doesn’t argue.

“Well, if we’re not having a spa night, what should we do for this epic sleepover?” I ask. We’re in the elevator now. Baz hits the button for the ground floor, then scratches his chin.

“We could check out that bookstore pub that just opened? I think they rent out board games too.”

“That sounds lovely,” I agree. We’re out on the street now. I burrow my hands into my jacket pockets against the chill, bumping my shoulder against Baz’s. (Well, against his elbow, practically. The bastard is ten feet tall.)

“Then, we could go home and drink wine. And judge people on reality television?”

“Best girl’s night ever,” I say, and Baz beams down at me. I give him a serious look before I speak again. “Thank you, Baz. Really. You’re a great friend.”

Baz shrugs, but his eyes soften.

“Anything for you, bestie.”

#my writing #coc 2021 #carry on countdown

[ashesandhalefire]

progress report: i am missing you to death

alex, michael, and a lot of unsaid things.

-

inspired by an entirely out of context teaser shot of alex and a desperate need for interaction that has yet to be satisfied by season 3 canon.

-

Deep Sky provides the coordinates and the time, so Alex shows up and waits.

While he stands in the cool night air, he scans the flat terrain that stretches out to one side and the gully where the highway sits. Other than the whizzing traffic, oblivious to his insignificance, everything is quiet.

After about twenty minutes of the vibrating stillness, Michael slinks out of the shadows with his hat tucked low over his face and leans against the back of the car beside Alex’s SUV.

Blood rushing in his ears, Alex does a second quick sweep of the lot’s perimeter. Nothing obvious has changed in the shadows since he crept through the bushes to check potential sight lines, but Alex isn’t stupid. He was in over his head when Project Shepherd turned out to be just his father’s backroom hobby. Deep Sky outclasses his expertise in a way he isn’t ready to reckon with. They could be anywhere—somewhere in the lot, somewhere down the road, somewhere miles away—and Michael has sauntered directly into their crosshairs.

He left about five feet between them when he stopped to hook one ankle over the other and stare out at the traffic, and the distance is enough for deniability. Alex tightens his hands into anxious fists and forces a long, deep breath through his nose.

“Hey,” Michael says with a casual nod of his head. They stand listening to the roar of tires chewing their ways along the desert highway, and Alex waits for a sign. He checks Michael’s chest for the red point of a laser sight just in case. Nothing happens. They stand a little longer, and then Michael leans over and asks, “You got a light?”

“No. You got a cigarette?”

The corner of Michael’s mouth twitches. It stirs up a fondness that Alex has carefully and surgically distanced himself from for the last few months, and he glances around the parking lot again. Being in love with Michael is too easy. He falls into it without needing to think about it or to try, and the laziness of trusting things to fate is probably why they’ve never gotten it right. He should probably consider himself lucky. Sinking back into those feelings now, fruitlessly, after so much time has passed, will make him sloppy in a way he can’t afford.

“You shouldn’t be here. They could see you.”

Michael tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugs, easy and unbothered. Or, almost unbothered. The muscles in his jaw are tight and tense. “You don’t even know what they do or if they’re looking for me. I haven’t exactly been hiding for the last year.”

“That doesn’t mean you should paint a bullseye on your chest.”

“But you should?”

Michael spits barbs like an old man working his way through seeded melon, careless and precise in equal measure. He always finds soft flesh.

“This isn’t a game,” Alex grits out, face growing hot with frustration. He watches a tractor trailer speed by on the road below and shoot a piece of trash out from beneath its tires.

“So tell me what it is, then,” Michael says, mouth turning down and voice suddenly going sharp as a knife’s edge, “because I didn’t really wait around to hear the rest of the story after Valenti said you were joining a cult.”

Alex looks over, and Michael’s brow is pinched to match the irritated wrinkle of his nose. Anger and tension leak off him like heat shimmers off the pavement at midday. He holds his casual posture, ankles crossed and hands tucked, but his eyes are furious.

“It’s complicated.”

Michael scoffs. “You know what, I shouldn’t bother. I should just drag your ass home, no questions.”

And now Alex’s temper flares: “Try it.”

“You think I wouldn’t? To save you?” He laughs meanly. “I’d have you over my shoulder so fucking fast—”

“I don’t need to be saved.”

“Obviously, you do.” Michael pushes off the car. The brim of his hat catches the light from the lamppost and casts half his face in shadows. “We have enough problems on our hands right now. We don’t need to poke the bear.”

“This bear poked first,” Alex says, equally furious. He checks behind Michael before hissing through his teeth, “They kidnapped Mimi. They drugged Jenna Cameron. Turnabout is fair play.”

“This isn’t turnabout! This isn’t even revenge. You’re joining their club. You are flinging yourself into a pit, Alex. A big, dark, deep pit, and when you get far enough in, none of us are going to be able to get you out. We’re gonna lose you. For good. And for no fucking reason.”

“Not for no reason,” Alex says. A tingle of shame trickles up the back of his neck. He knows he’s unprepared, going in without an exit strategy. But he can’t sit on his hands and do nothing. It makes him nervous and paranoid to be idle. “They know things.”

“Who gives a shit? Who gives one fucking iota of a shit about what they know?”

Alex frowns. “You have always wanted to know more—”

“Not like this! Not at the risk of—” Michael puts a fist to his forehead. Then he pulls off his hat and takes another step closer. His voice is softer when he speaks. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this, huh? This isn’t just your dad anymore. This is bigger than that.”

“I know.”

“They are gonna swallow you whole, and what’s the point if you’re just gone?”

Alex draws another long inhale through his nose. The weight of the thick, ugly ring on his finger feels like an anchor dragging him down. The memories of Caulfield crumbling to pieces in a cloud of fire are heavier. “If there’s even a chance that they know something, what choice do I have? I’m not getting caught off guard again. I owe you that much.”

“Bullshit,” Michael says with a jerk of his chin. “Doing it is one thing, but don’t pretend you’re doing it for me.” A pair of low-riding sports cars scream down the highway behind him, bobbing and weaving through the minimal traffic with their engines blaring. One falters behind a gas tanker and then chases its companion off towards the horizon with an roar. “If you had any interest in doing something for me, you would stay.”

Cold uncertainty creeps into Alex’s chest, and no number of layers can keep it out. He wants to ask: would I be welcome? Because he hasn’t felt like he would be in a long time. He had showed up, again and again. Sometimes, he had been wanted, and sometimes, he hadn’t been. The haze of open mic night had cleared for an instant, and the future had been visible, tangible, workable, and then, just as quickly, had vanished into the air. He had been left with Isobel’s obvious, humiliating pity, her mouth turned down as she stood to listen through the last note. That door had been closed. And yet, he wants to ask: would I be welcome? Dignity be damned.

“Are— are you asking me to stay?”

There must be something in his voice when he says it, no matter how hard he tries to control the pathetic wavering and the sunken surprise on his face, that means something to Michael. His whole body eases forward as if carried by an invisible current before he catches himself and says, “I’m done asking people for more than they’re willing to give me.”

“But you would ask? If you thought—?” Alex pushes. “You would want to ask?”

The corners of Michael’s mouth turn down and his gaze narrows almost imperceptibly, but Alex is watching for it. The more Michael closes off, the more Alex feels himself splitting open. Something bright and electric stirs in his chest.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t,” he says, waiting for the moment when Michael’s eyes widen, just slightly, just enough to understand. It comes, exactly as expected, and Michael sways closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d ask. I’m not about to beg, but I’d ask.”

He’s gotten Michael to beg before, but never for something as serious as love. On his back or on his knees or in the bed of his truck, Alex has heard him plead and bargain for things he wants in the neediest, most desperate whispers, but that had been all carnal, base pleasure, and he had known Alex wouldn’t tell him no. Here, he’s talking about a different type of submission, the kind that humiliates someone like Michael, someone who has never been given enough. Michael won’t beg, and Alex needs to be asked, and a lot of time has been wasted between them thinking that one is the same as the other.

He can’t say he’ll stay. He’s too far in to back out. And, even if he could do it, staying doesn’t mean riding off into the sunset. It means more of the same: the secrets, the conspiracies, the mysteries, the agonies, the scraping open of old wounds in last-ditch efforts to heal them. But it also means Michael, so everything else is white noise.

Michael sees it all play out on his face. He sets his hat on the roof of Alex’s car and then turns to lean against the hatchback. He sighs, and Alex can tell that more weight than usual is resting on his shoulders. It’s not just Max dragging him under. His whole body sags with it, and the sharp focus that’s been in his eyes begins to recede as he drifts away towards the call of whatever nightmare is lurking at the back of his mind.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex says because he lacks for anything else to say, and Michael  stares at his boots with a sad smile. His throat bobs as he swallows down whatever it is that’s too hard to talk about with so little time left to say it, and then he turns to look at Alex.

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” he says, like this is some sort of revelation, “and you’re you.”

The words, said like an accusation, should probably turn his stomach, but they’re also said with a reverence that pushes Alex’s heart up into his throat. Whatever is happening has rocked Michael to his core far beyond how Alex knows to help.

“Less of a piece of shit, I hope.”

Michael stares at him, flexing his hand, and then says, with a nod, “Significantly, yeah.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for.” Alex laughs, and then he tips his head back to look at the starless sky. “I’ll take being afraid of being like him over being proud of being like him any day. At least it means I’m going in the right direction.”

Jesse haunts Alex differently than he haunts Michael. To Michael, Jesse is another human face that did something terrible to him, just more proof that looking for another planet to run to is a good idea. Jesse is a more specific phantom for Alex, much harder to let blur into the background of the general awfulness of life. There are reminders of his father all around town: placards, photographs, the sign for the street they lived on, a six-foot statue in town square. Those can be faced much more easily than the hints of his father that Alex finds in the mirror: the deep-set wrinkles in his brows, the cut of his mouth when he frowns, the tone of his voice when he yells, the shape of his thumb. To be a little less like him every day is an exhausting but necessary struggle.

Michael smiles, and Alex, mystified, thinks maybe he managed to help after all.

“Your plan wasn’t really to drag me home over your shoulder, was it?” he asks to distract from how Michael carefully swipes a finger at the corner of one eye.

Michael huffs, and the car jostles. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just wasn’t about to let you go without—” He licks his lips and says, “I wasn’t about to let you just go.”

Alex scuffs his shoe against the loose gravel. “Couldn’t get Kyle’s hubcaps off this time?”

Guilt settles over him after he says it. Guilt and something else, something like the relief of setting down a heavy burden that’s been carried too long.

“I thought you were making a mistake back then, too.” Michael takes the comment in stride, accepts it, and reaches out to touch the ring on Alex’s hand. He pinches it carefully, Alex’s fingers curled into the heat of his palm, and rolls his thumb until the ring twists to expose the thinner underside of the band. He strokes, skin then metal then skin, over and over. “Flinging yourself into some dark pit that you’d never come out of again.”

Alex wants to tell him that this is different. He can’t.

“Do me a favor, okay?”

Hand slipping up over Alex’s wrist and into the soft corner of his elbow, Michael crosses the final inches of space between them and pulls Alex close. In the dim light of the parking lot, they might be mistaken for the sort of strangers who meet in shadowy corners for quick exchanges of misery with rough words and rougher touch. But then Michael, trembling, touches the lapel of Alex’s jacket and presses a long kiss to his cheek.

He keeps his mouth there, breath hot and soft, and, before he gathers himself enough to continue, Alex says, “I’ll come back.”

Michael laughs, but it sounds like a gasp for air. “Not even gonna let me ask?”

Alex hums. “I’ll come back.”

“Yeah, you’ll come back,” Michael warns, “or I’ll come get you. And it won’t be fucking subtle.”

It sends a shiver down his spine to think of Michael storming a place as infinitely large as Deep Sky feels. If it comes to that, he’d be better off left behind. But as the thought comes, Michael’s grip shifts and the tentative press of their sides becomes a full-bodied hug that envelopes him like a warm breeze. His nose turns into the side of Michael’s neck: rain, crisp and fresh; gasoline, but faint; smoke, from his fire pit.

“I’m not really going anywhere. It’ll be fine.”

Michael squeezes, and Alex squeezes back. Everything else he wants to say is too big for this moment. And, selfishly, he wants to know that Michael will wait to hear it. He scolds himself for the thought, because they’ve each done their share of waiting miserably at the wayside, but then he lets it stand. Michael squeezes again, fingertips digging into separate points as he clings.

Alex cups a hand to the back of his head and touches his curls. He thinks about what it would mean to kiss Michael now, to kiss someone that he loves, who loves him, and imagines a tower of precariously stacked dominoes. Michael laughs wetly, and Alex lets go first, fingers lingering reluctantly.

#malex fic #malex #roswell new mexico #michael x alex #my fic #i read the jungle; the grapes of wrath; and another country in less than two weeks. idt my writing style even knows which way is up rn #but i had to Produce Something or i was going to go crazy so :/

[michiigii-writes-mysme]

Today will be a depraved, Unknown kind of day~

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

This is during Ray’s route, so spoiler alert, I guess?

And technically an AU considering I added an element to her room…

July 10th - Ice Cube Cool Down - Mr. Saeran x MC

Mr. Saeran was in a terrible mood. The sweltering heat of the day could irritate the most patient of people, and since his change, Mr. Saeran was anything but patient. Since noon, he had been stomping around the grounds, between angrily pounding at his keyboard and yelling at other believers. When he finally made his way to the specially locked room, none of the other residents of Magenta envied his Toy.

The girl flinched when her door crashed open, but when she saw who it was, she didn’t move from where she was on the bed. She was lying on her side, admiring the wilting flowers on her table and trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach, trying to forget the stifling heat of the windowless room. He hadn’t allowed her breakfast or lunch, and while she hoped he would bring something for dinner, she knew the best she could hope for was stale bread and tepid water.

“Uggh, it stinks in here,” the white-haired hacker growled, passing a hand over his face, “The heat makes the stench even worse…”

He means the opposite. He means the opposite, she thought to herself, her mantra since her darling Ray had drowned in green elixir, He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean it.

Mr. Saeran slammed the door behind him, locking it securely. The girl on the bed slowly sat up, noticing that he was holding a glass of something.

“Are those…ice cubes?” she asked, her voice hoarse as the question made its way past her cracked lips.

“What if they are?” he sneered, stalking across the room to her.

Before she sat up completely, his hand was around her neck, pushing her back down onto the bed.

“You thought I would bring you a treat?” he spat, “Stupid toy! It’s so hot, it must have destroyed what little brain cells you have! What makes you think you deserve ice?”

He hauled the girl by the hair to the centre of the bed, and reaching to the bed posts, Saeran pulled out two lengths of leather that had seen good use since he had made her his plaything.

“Ray, wait-“

She tried to slow him down, grabbing at his wrists, but she was so weak from hunger, he easily swatted her away. Even with one hand holding the cold glass of ice cubes, he made quick work of tying her wrists with the leather, pinning her down to the bed.

“How many times do I need to tell you, Toy? Ray is gone. He’s left you and now you’re mine.”

“What are you going to d-“

Stifling her mouth with his hand, he glared at a spot just behind her ear. He never looked her straight in the eye, she noticed; whenever he accidentally did, he would get even more unstable and abandon her in moments.

And, curse her pathetic heart, she didn’t really want him to go. He might be rough with her, but he never actually hit her. And even if he wasn’t really her Ray, she still wanted him close. There were moments in between the screaming and throwing items around her room, where he would pause, and she would get glimpses of…something. He wasn’t Ray, anymore…but the monster that he became wasn’t really him, either. There was something more in Saeran, and she wanted more than anything to reach out and draw him to the surface. And she couldn’t do that if he left her alone.

Saeran frowned when he saw there was no place to put his glass, then with a cruel grin balanced it right in the centre of her chest, on her breastbone just beside where her curves began. It was cold! Too cold! His hand muffled your gasp, but his lips curled higher when he saw your eyes widen and your legs spasm in shock.

“What, Toy? Doesn’t that feel so much better than the heat?”

Taunting her, he ripped the front of her dress open, buttons flying across her bed, exposing the rest of her body as he tore the dress completely open. He tugged her bra down, releasing her breasts, and cupped one in a greedy, possessive grip. His hands were still cold from the glass; again, she gasped, but they could both hear that the sound wasn’t completely born from pain.

“You filthy girl,” he sneered, squeezing her breast and easing another moan out of her, “I only wanted to chill you, but you’re actually enjoying this?”

She shook her head to deny it, then flinched when a freezing drop of condensation slid down the side of the glass, splashing against her skin.

“Bad girl,” he growled, releasing her mouth and taking an ice cube from the glass, rubbing it against his bottom lip pensively, “You know you should never lie to me.”

She opened her mouth to maybe deny it, or beg for mercy, but as soon as her lips parted, he pushed the ice cube into her mouth. Instinctively, she closed her lips, her teeth clicking around the ice before he could try to take it away. It was life-giving water and she could almost cry at how refreshing it was.

But Saeran hadn’t wanted to show mercy; he had wanted her silenced, and he had succeeded. His hands moved to play with her breasts, her nipples already erect from the cold. One was a little shyer than the other, much to his disapproval. He took another ice cube, the glass ever balanced on her chest, and traced a lazy circle around her areola; she whimpered at the intensity, but his eyes darkened as he watched her nipple perk up.

“You may be a useless fool, Toy, but it is fun to make you squirm,” he muttered, dragging the ice cube over her tip.

She wanted to cry out, but she would risk choking on the cube in her mouth. She wanted to turn away, to ease the sensation even a little, but then the glass might tip. So, she stifled another yelp, her legs twisting this way and that, trying to subdue the heat that was pooling between them.

He finally released her other breast, but to her chagrin she saw him take another ice cube from the glass. He was running it through his fingers, as if trying to figure out what to do with it, while he continued to torture her nipple with swipes of ice. She wanted to shut her eyes, to not watch what he would do to her next, but when she tried it, every touch and every icy drip felt even more sharp and intense. Better to watch and expect the teasing, she decided, turning her agonized gaze back to her captor.

She relaxed a little when Saeran popped the ice cube into his own mouth. He must be hot, too, she knew; maybe now that he had something to drink, he would calm down. Instead, he lowered his body against hers, his mouth coming down to latch around her nipple. She gave a choked cry, fingers clawing at the open air, unable to break free from the leather straps at her wrists. She felt his icy tongue tease her sensitive nub, then suckle while the ice cube played in his mouth. Wet warmth and freezing cold played at both her breasts, exquisite torture that made her head spin. It wasn’t until he pulled back that she realized she had been screaming; the ice cube in her mouth had disappeared without her realizing it.

“Shut up!” he snapped, putting both half-melted ice cubes into his mouth, then shoving your lips against his. A rough, bruising kiss, and when her lips parted, both pieces of ice slipped through; again, she was silenced.

Through a thick, hungry and lust-filled haze, the girl could hear the glass tinkling again, and sharp cold surprised her just above her bellybutton. Saeran moved down her body, sweeping the fresh ice cube left and right across her stomach, distracting her so she never felt him remove her damp panties. It wasn’t until the ice cube was at her mound and he had hooked her thighs over his shoulders that she realized what he was going to do.

“Nnn!!” she tried, legs spasming, but deep down, she wanted him to keep going, and he was very determined to splay her legs open for him to feast.

He rested the ice cube just over her pearl, close enough that she could feel the cold, but not enough that it would hurt her. Even he knew that an ice cube on her clit would be too much for her, especially in the dripping, needy state that she was already in. Her breath quickened in anticipation; she couldn’t see it, but she could feel a drop of melting ice already starting to slide down. Her eyes squeezed tight, feeling tension mounting as the icy water slowly grew bigger and bigger, teasing towards her clit, the sense of almost being touched making her head spin. Whether she wanted it to drip and sting her with its coldness, or whether she wanted to avoid the overwhelming sensation, she wasn’t sure.

Then, just when she should she couldn’t take it anymore, Saeran buried his face into her pussy, sloppy as he spread cool, melted water wherever he could feel wet velvet against his tongue. He didn’t try to be neat, or have any modicum of finesse; he wanted her to feel everything, both painful and pleasurable, and he wanted her to feel it now. With every twist of his tongue, every drop of icy water, even his fingers as they greedily pushed into and writhed in her core, he wanted to tear ecstasy and need and moaning and rapture out of her. Even as he felt her buck and try to break free of him, he devoured her, head shaking back and forth as he hunted for her release.

He wanted her to feel the intensity that he felt when his eyes met hers. He wanted her to cry. He wanted her to gasp. He wanted to hear her beg him for mercy as she screamed his name.

He wanted her shattered and undone and unable to function without him.

So he suckled and nibbled and impaled her on his fingers, never relenting until his goal was achieved.

—————

Hours later, he stood over her, her spent body curled up on the bed. He had pulled the blanket over her bare form, the starlight the only witness to this tiny show of kindness that she would never remember.

It had been such a hot day. But she had refreshed him.

And yet, already he craved more of her.

“…disgusting,” he grumbled, pulling his clothes back on, “Pathetic fool…”

He stalked out of the room, refusing to look back, to examine her sleeping face, to watch her dream and breathe easy.

Refusing to acknowledge that he wished he could stay with her.

—fin—

#Summer of Smut #Saeran x MC #Saeran Choi #MysMe Unknown #MysMe Smut #Lime Lemon #the thirst is real

[mistmarauder]

This fandom has a very strange divide when it comes to Shannon Diaz.

I say strange because I don’t think you’re all as divided as you think you are. I think you’re coming from different places and completely missing each other. I might be wrong, but let me explain what I mean.

First, it’s possible to have multiple emotions and opinions about a character. You don’t have to despise a character completely or adore a character completely. And if you do either of those things, you should acknowledge when a character isn’t two-dimensional. Like, I love this character including their flaws. Or even, I love this character despite their flaws.

The issue with Shannon is that the diverging opinions seem to be coming from two different places. I say this because I personally have differing opinions regarding Shannon that align with both “sides” of this depending on how I’m looking at her.

There are opinions regarding Shannon’s character inside the narrative, and there are opinions regarding Shannon’s character outside the narrative. And those opinions clash.

I’m going to explain this as clearly as I can.

Inside the narrative, we’re talking about Shannon as though she’s a real person and we’re judging that character based on her actions.

The main thing people talk about, of course, is Shannon abandoning Eddie and more importantly Chris.

Then others point out that Eddie also left, but fans have been willing to forgive him. So why not Shannon? To which Side #1 points out that Eddie "redeemed” himself whereas Shannon did not. To which Side #2 points out that Shannon didn’t get the chance to redeem herself because she was hit by a car.

I tend to fall more in line with Side #1 on this though I understand where Side #2 is coming from. And there are two main reasons why. (Though again, please understand that Side #2 falls more in line with the outside narrative which I’ll address in a minute.)

One reason is because I feel like Side #2 is misrepresenting the differences between Shannon and Eddie as parents and what they “did”. And I’m not talking about Eddie being gone for work whereas Shannon just left. I’m intimately aware that money is no substitute for a person’s actual presence. My dad can help me out as much as he wants financially, and I know he loves me. But it will never compare to everything my mom has done for me emotionally by supporting me as a person and really getting to know and understand me.

When I say there’s a difference between Shannon’s form of “leaving” and Eddie’s form of “leaving”, I mean this. Shannon completely removed herself from her son’s life. She was gone. She didn’t even stay in contact as far as we know. Whereas Eddie may have run away physically, but he was still there in a way. He still communicated with both Shannon and Chris. He still went home to them on leave. I’m not defending what he did or saying that he was being the parent or husband he needed to be. I’m just saying that these two things are different. And I would honestly argue that one is more easy to “forgive” than the other, but that’s just my personal opinion.

Now. The second reason I tend to fall in line with Side #1 from inside the narrative is because Side #2 is kind of assuming that Shannon would have redeemed herself if given the chance and that she was worthy of that forgiveness.

They might be right, but they also might be wrong. First of all, loving your child does not excuse hurting them. And while Shannon did love Chris, she also caused him a large amount of emotional pain. So even if she did “redeem herself” as a parent, no one is obligated to forgive her for abandoning him. And it’s important to note that if Shannon were Chris’ father instead of his mother, people would probably be far less inclined to even give her a second chance. Much less think that trying to better herself and be a better parent meant people were obliged to forgive her and see her more favorably. It’d be more like “Oh. So now he wants to step up and be there.” Whereas for a mom it’s like “Oh, she was struggling so much. And she came back. And she loves her son. Etc.”

As a society, we tend to put moms on a pedestal and see dads as secondary. And it affects how we react to the things they do.

But also, even inside the narrative, there’s no guarantee that she actually would have stuck around for Chris. She completely abandoned him once, and she could do it again. And arguably, it would be easier to do the second time. Even if she loved Chris and didn’t want to hurt him. She loved him the first time too. Loving someone doesn’t mean you’re incapable of causing them pain. So this idea that Shannon would have redeemed herself is a hopeful one. Not a fact. And even if she did, no one is obligated to forgive her. There’s no scale where if she does enough good things, it magically erases the bad. Forgiveness is personal. You choose to forgive someone. People can’t buy it from you with their actions.

Now, let’s talk about outside the narrative.

This is where I more line up with Side #2.

When people say Shannon “deserved” a redemption arc and that what was done to her character was fucked up, it’s not a defense of her inside the narrative. At least in my understanding.

This is where you’re talking about Shannon from a creative standpoint. Where you’re stepping back from the story and viewing her as a character.

Let me explain.

While you may not like Shannon as a person, creatively she was a well-developed character. She was complex and had a variety of motives. She had an actual background that we got to see bits of in Eddie Begins. She was built into someone important who could have played a very interesting role in the story.

Instead, they basically fridged her. They said “Eh. I don’t feel like dealing with this character and all the complexities they add to the story, so let’s just kill her off.” And they did. They turned an interesting and multi-faceted character into a plot device and used her death to focus on Eddie. The woman died, and her death became all about Eddie. (And Chris, but the man pain was the main focus. Let’s be real.)

It was sloppy and weak writing, and I would argue that yes. Shannon’s character deserved to be handled better. Not because she was a great person, but because she was a good character. Not to mention the fact that it’s also a bit misogynistic because this sort of nonsense is almost always geared at female characters. Not the male ones.

(If you watch Lone Star, they pulled some similar nonsense with Charles Vega. And I was pissed. And so was a lot of the fandom. Tommy got an entire episode devoted to her coming to terms with his death, but I’ll be interested to see if they drag her grief out for an entire season like they did for Eddie. If her pain has the same level of focus his did. Because if they skip to her moving on, I will burst into ugly laughter. Especially when unlike with Eddie and Shannon, Tommy and Charles had a very loving and well-founded relationship that was going strong. So, the idea that Eddie would be more consumed by grief over Shannon than Tommy would be over Charles would have me side-eying the screen a bit. Even though I know grief is a very personal process. But I’m getting sidetracked. Back to Shannon.)

I’m not saying Shannon’s character should have been handled better in that she deserved to redeem herself and be forgiven and be a mom to Chris and yadda yadda. That’s all inside the narrative.

I’m saying that as a character, it would have been better to follow her. Not run her over with a car. Even if she had that “redemption arc”, it would be a more compelling story for her to fail. For her to try and redeem herself and then get “overwhelmed” by parenthood and make more mistakes. And if she didn’t continue to fail, there could have been the focus on divorce and how that affects families and children. How she and Eddie navigate their issues with one another to continue parenting Chris.

Instead, no. They killed her. It was lazy and irritating writing.

So, that’s what I mean when I say I don’t think you’re all as divided as you might believe.

Because honestly, I think most of you have a more complex view of her that lines up with this in a lot of ways, but it’s not something people have time to really explain. So, it comes out as “Ugh. I don’t like Shannon,” which rubs some people wrong who are viewing her as a character. Or it comes out as “Ugh. Shannon deserved better,” which rubs other people wrong who are viewing her as a person and parent.

This is just what I’m seeing and taking away from everything, and I hope it helps clear things up for some of you. Or gives you a better understanding of where the other side might be coming from. ❤️

I don’t claim to speak for the entire fandom. It’s just eyebrow-raising to me. Because I hold both opinions, so I don’t really get why there’s a big debate.

#and there i go word vomiting on tumblr again #lol! #in this essay i will #shannon diaz #911 discourse #long post #mist speaks

[neworleansspecial]

Needy!TK (Tarlos) and sloppy

thanks to the writing server for their help and support! also under a read more because it got long. Also also this is less needy TK and more just tender, loving TK //

Morning wood was always something that irritated TK. It was something that had to be taken care of, even if he wasn't in the mood, and he generally either had an unsatisfying orgasm or worked out until it went away. But ever since he started spending the night with Carlos, it's become something that's not just enjoyable, but something he looks forward to.

He wakes up this morning nestled in Carlos' embrace, one of Carlos' hands already gently massaging his bulge. TK sighs and tilts his head back, which Carlos immediately rewards by kissing his throat.

"Good morning," Carlos says, his voice deliciously rough. "Sleep well?"

"Does it matter?"

Carlos laughs and presses himself firmer against TK's back, letting him feel his own arousal against the curve of his ass. It's a lazy morning, TK knows, because their only plans for the day are to eventually hit the grocery store for the week. He has the whole morning to enjoy this, along with the knowledge that he will be so thoroughly adored and taken care of that he'll need half the day to recuperate.

TK shuts his eyes and focuses on the sensation of Carlos' hand. It's not much, but it feels like a lot when he's still sleepy and sensitive. He lets himself focus on that, a task which he has become increasingly practiced at since he realized that sex can not only feel good physically, but emotionally. Everything is different with Carlos, including this.

"Lay on your back," Carlos suggests, pulling away to allow TK to do so. "I want to absolutely wreck the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on."

A flush climbs up TK's cheeks, but he doesn't respond (mostly because he isn't quite sure how). He obeys the gentle command and draws his legs up to make for easier access. Carlos smiles up at him as he settles between his thighs and TK is struck suddenly by how much he adores Carlos, how lost he would be without him, how much he wants to spend every moment of his life with him. It's a frightening amount of love to feel, but it's safe because of the mere fact that the person he loves is Carlos.

He voices none of this, instead crossing his hands behind his head in an effort to appear nonchalant. The picture never lasts long, but he always tries, and Carlos never calls him out on it. Instead, he fetches the lube and pours what's probably too much onto his fingers. They always use a little more than most people would because there's just something about making it messy. Sloppy.

Carlos eases TK's sweatpants down his hips and curls his wet hand around his cock.The lube is still cold. TK shivers but tries to stay still. He sometimes enjoys acting out, but on a morning like this, he enjoys being a good boy and doing what Carlos wants of him. He easily loses himself in the sensation of being touched like this.

The slow, perfect way Carlos touches him slowly drags him along the line of pleasure, building in a way that's simple. His toes curl and he arches off the bed, ready for an orgasm that he knows will start his day right, and suddenly- Carlos pulls away.

"Why?" TK whines, squirming as he comes down from his near high.

"Because I'm not finished with you."

It's impossible not to smile at him, even if TK is a little miffed at being denied. He loves him so much. Carlos' clean hand finds one of TK's and squeezes. A reminder that they're always together. It's not TK, and, Carlos, anymore. It's TK and Carlos. Together. A unit. In life, and in this, the best moments of the day.

He relaxes back into the bed. Carlos will take care of him. He doesn't spare a single thought to the idea that he will be left unsatisfied and waits for more, which comes in the form of Carlos drizzling lube directly onto his ass.

"Ooh, that's cold."

Carlos laughs a little and drags his fingertips through the lube before rubbing them against his hole to tease him. As TK shivers, he pushes two fingers in. It's just enough to burn, but in a good way that takes TK's breath away. He reminds himself to stay still as Carlos gently fucks him on his fingers. It's loving as much as it is tender and TK could cry.

He nearly does.

But he manages to hold back the tears long enough that he's distracted by the addition of another finger and the rush of pleasure from Carlos finding his prostate. He elects to forget everything else, just for the moment. All that matters is feeling good with someone who he loves, who loves him.

Carlos gets up on his knees between TK's legs and shucks off his own sweatpants before retrieving even more lube to spread over himself. TK could make a joke, but the truth is, he likes it just a little too wet, and he knows Carlos knows that. The mess is part of the appeal. It's a physical marker of their intimacy, and he craves that as much as he craves the dull ache of Carlos pushing himself inside to fill TK like he was made to.

"I love you."

As he settles on his arms above TK, Carlos smiles. "I love you too, baby."

He begins to move. TK wraps his legs around Carlos' waist to help him get deeper. The two of them move together, in perfect sync to make it feel as good as is physically possible. Before long, he's too busy moaning to really kiss Carlos any more. He reaches down to touch himself, just to crest over the edge, but Carlos bats his hand away and takes over instead. It feels even better when he does it, not just because he knows exactly how, but because it's him doing it. The knowledge of the act in of itself is enough.

It doesn't take long for TK to come between them, making a mess of them both and causing Carlos' thrusts to stutter. He's close too. Before he can pull out, like he normally does to avoid overstimulation, TK kisses him hard and tightens his legs around his waist.

"Come inside me."

Carlos immediately fucks TK harder than he was before, now clearly not holding back. TK can't help moaning and grabbing onto the sheets. He's overwhelmed in the best possible way. Luckily, before it can become too much, Carlos finishes inside him, flooding him with enough come that it drips from TK's hole once Carlos pulls out.

"I love you," TK says again, still catching his breath.

"I love you too."

#tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #911 ls #emwrite #nsft

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.4)

SUMMARY: *queue beebo* ladies and gents this is the moment you’ve waited for  

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

WARNINGS: swearing, australian spelling (not a warning just letting you know)

OTHER PARTS IN THE SERIES:  pt1   /   pt2   /   pt3   /   pt4   /  pt5   /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

As the Cherry Blossom trees were in full bloom, Iroh was basking in the peace he hadn’t felt in weeks. Zuko on the other hand, sat next to the entryway sulking. Of course, Iroh, being the caring uncle he was, wished to relieve him of all the angst within him on this beautiful day and approached him with a solemn expression on his face. “I see, it’s the anniversary isn’t it.”

Beneath his straw hat, Zuko scowled agitated his uncle brought it up, as if it wasn’t the first thing he thought about when he woke up this morning. “Three years ago today, I was banished. I lost it all. I want it back. I want the avatar. I want my honour. My throne. I want my father, not to think I’m worthless.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t! Why would he banish you if he didn’t care?”

Wordlessly Zuko rose and walked away from his uncle, frustrated and terrified of what else his uncle might say. Finding a cherry blossom tree far, far, away from Iroh, he sat down beneath it angrily. He hated this day. He hated what it did to his life. He hated how the memories of you consumed his mind more prominently today than any other day of the year.

He never said it out loud, but he wanted you just as much as he wanted his honour. He wanted to see you alive. Breathing right in front of him. And he’d be damned if he admitted it to his uncle. Why, he wanted you? He wasn’t sure. You have always lingered in the back of his mind, not constantly, but every once in a while, it always seemed to come back to you. Or at least what was left of you in his mind.

This annoyed him endlessly. How could someone, who he barely spoke a word to, stay in his mind for so long? He didn’t even know what you looked like! He let out a groan of frustration. He wished he could remember what your voice sounded like. Then, at least he would have something to hold onto. He tried desperately to cling onto the memory of you. The way your baby hair stuck out of your top knot, your posture as you shielded him the best you could, the feeling of your robes on his fingertips. But it was no use. There was no point in it all. None of it would lead him to you. For all he knew, you were probably dead.

That prospect terrifies him so much that he refuses to utter a word about you into existence.

After countless days of following the giant fire nation ship from a considerable distance behind, you were grateful when they finally docked. You were beyond starved, stupidly underestimating how long Azula would be at sea. It seems you got a little too cocky in your abilities over the years. Shaking your head, you put yourself into a more focused mindset, now more than ever, you couldn’t afford to be sloppy. Tying your small boat to a dock which situated behind some rocky mountains and far away from any view from where their ship was, you began your search for robes to blend in.

Swiftly moving about in the shadows to avoid any interaction with people off Azula’s boat, you manage to ascend the stairs leading up to an Earth Kingdom village. Upon seeing the first clothesline with clothes that look like you could fit into, you grab the pink robes. Grabbing some extra cloth, you make a makeshift mask to shield your face and neck, and wind small pieces around your hands completely. Finally, and most importantly, you double checked to ensure that all of your weapons were strapped securely underneath.

Satisfied with your disguise, you decide to head near the dock to check if Azula’s made any advancements in her plan to get her brother and uncle back. However, you faltered, hearing a small argument break out a few huts away. Initially, you dismiss it, although just as you were about to journey back down the mountain, you felt something… like a crack of lighting waiting to go off.

Azula.

You follow the sounds of the argument and Azula’s inner fire. Hiding within a bush near an open window; you listen in on whatever was going on inside.

“What are you doing here?!”

“In my country, we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions. Have you become uncivilised so soon, Zuzu?”

“Don’t call me that!”

Eyes widening at the realisation, wait… that’s Zuko?

“To what do we owe this honour?” You quickly assume that’s their uncle.

“Hmm, must be a family trait. Both of you so quick to get to the point.” Azula’s voice is harsh, almost as if she’s ready to strike.

Must she be so dramatic?

“I’ve come with a message from home. Fathers changed his mind, family is suddenly very important to him. He’s heard rumours of plans to overthrow him—treacherous plots. Family are the only ones you can really trust. Father regrets your banishment; he wants you home.”

At Zuko’s lack of response, you grew worried. No Zuko don’t-

“Did you hear me?! You should be happy. Excited. Grateful! I just gave you great news.”

You felt Zuko come closer to the window. He felt more muted… less angry.

“I’m sure your brother simply needs a moment…”

Azula snapped at Iroh. “Don’t interrupt uncle! I still haven’t heard my thank you. I’m not a messenger. I didn’t have to come all this way.”

“Father regrets? He… wants me back?”

Fuck! Don’t listen to her you coal brain!

“I can see you need time to take this in. I’ll come to call on you tomorrow. Good evening.”

As Azula left back to the ship, you cursed under your breath. Yes, you knew your job. And yes, you knew what would happen to Zuko and Iroh if they foolishly believed the princess. You needed a plan.

Maybe if I could just… steer him in another direction, help bring light to the situation. Maybe they’ll listen. Quietly retreating away from the hut, you walked into the town, looking for a way to talk to them without being obvious.

A few hours later, the best you could come up with was to deliver them some food for the evening, pretending you worked for the owner of all the huts. It wasn’t your best plan, but most people openly welcome free food, so it was good enough. But for the first time in your life, you felt nerves, unlike any other. Sure, you were nervous when you jumped to save Zuko, but this was different. Then, your nerves activated your fight responses, but today? These were the kind of nerves that made you want to run away because you’ve already gone over the multitude of possibilities that might occur. But of course, you dismissed the thoughts of running away, because once again, you were on a mission to save his life despite the threats Ozai made you.

Did he forget about me as I told him to, all those years ago? Hopefully, he did. After all, he is alive.

Just as you were about to enter, you heard his voice inside. “We’re going home! After three long years. It’s unbelievable!” Your eyes widened at the excitement in his tone. That wasn’t a good sign considering what you were about to do.

“It is unbelievable. I have never known my brother to regret anything.”

“Did you listen to Azula? Fathers realised how important family is to him. He cares about me!” Now you began to seriously contemplate on walking in there right now, and beating him until he came to his senses.

It seemed Iroh wasn’t having it either. “I care about you! And if Ozai wants you back well, I think it may not be for the reasons you imagine.”

“You don’t know how my father feels about me. You don’t know anything!”

“Zuko, I only meant that in our family things are not always what they seem.”

“I think you’re exactly what you seem. A lazy, mistrustful, shallow old man who’s always been jealous of his brother!”

Okay, I’ve heard enough coal brain.

You let out a deep, shaky breath. It seems no matter how hard you try to keep your cool, you’ll never be entirely ready for what you’re about to throw yourself into. Balancing the tray of food in your left arm, you round the corner to the front of the hut, emitting a firm knock onto the side of the entryway.

Zuko whips around at the sound. “Who are you? What do you want!”

As he looks at you with his harsh and angry glare, you feel like you’ve been smacked in the face multiple times. Ironically, you also knew it had been precisely three years since you jumped to save him, and now you finally get to witness the full extent of your failure. Heart tightening at the severe contrast to how he sounded all those years ago, you take in his pain. His anger.

Feeling the intense fire burning inside of him from his anger and rage, it almost takes you back. It seems that the years he spent away from his old home has damaged the afraid, innocent boy you once knew. As you wear your stolen robes and mask shielding your neck, a nasty feeling forms in your gut. You have always been able to cover your extensive scars with clothing, but him? His scar is almost too much of a visual representation for you to bear.

I should have moved to the left a bit more; then he wouldn’t have it. If I just aimed better when I jumped, he wouldn’t have to live like this. Maybe if I succeeded, he wouldn’t be so bitter.

Not letting how frustrated you feel towards yourself show, you bow to him and his uncle.

“My apologies, I did not mean to disturb you this evening. I am only here to deliver you some food, it’s on the house.”

This only fuels his anger, irritated that you weren’t anyone of great significance. “Fine. Just place it over there and leave us!”

Iroh sighs, walking towards you. “Zuko, that is no way to treat a young lady. My apologies for my nephew’s behaviour Miss, he has recently received some unexpected news today. Thank you for your services.”

You give a light smile, even though he can’t see it. “No, it’s alright. I understand how hard it may be to truly know what is the right choice when brought with unexpected circumstances.”

“I’m sorry who are you? Who do you think you are?! You know nothing, not even anything remotely similar to the situation I’m in. So don’t go around assuming you understand anything! You have no right coming in here and thinking you can help me in any way.”

His hostility begins to feel normal; you knew you should have expected him to be like this. “Of course my apologies sir, how could I be so senseless. I don’t mean to overstep. I only wish you relieve you of some of your stress. I meant no disrespect.”

At that moment, you almost slapped yourself. Idiot, why did I say that?

Zuko faltered, overwhelmed with the words you just slapped him with. And you said them on today of all days?

“What did you just say?”

Iroh who was intently watching you throughout the interaction snapped his attention towards his nephew, “Zuko, please, she only-“

“I’m sorry I meant no disrespect sir I-“

“Get out.”

Understanding that he wasn’t ready to take any guidance or advice from you, you silently bowed, turning to leave.

Just as you were about to walk out completely, you glanced back at him looking him in his golden, raged filled eyes, “pain doesn’t leave you forever Prince Zuko. It lingers. You should take the past and let it guide your future journey, not let it control you.”

As you stepped out into the unforgiving cold air, Zuko was frozen, gaping at the doorway where you once stood. How you knew of his true identity was beyond him, yet there was something hidden, masked beneath your final statement that didn’t sit right with him. The hair on his skin is standing at the entire interaction that just occurred. Of course, he had no idea who you were, so why did it feel like you knew more than you let on? Did you know anything about his past? Shaking it off, he continued to pack in silence. Even Iroh didn’t say a word.

Descending the mountain back towards your ship, words that you had memorised and locked away for years, suddenly resurfaced.

Maybe Azula was right after all.

Early the next morning, you rose with the sun. Soon after eating some breakfast made out of the fish you hunted last night, you decided to make your way near the massive ship. As per Ozai’s orders, you hid behind some greenery into a position that left you unseen to everyone.

Eventually, they showed up to the docks, and honestly, you were upset that Iroh was unable to get through to his nephew. But there was nothing you could do about it right now.

Due to the distance, you weren’t able to make out what they were saying, leaving you to have to read Azula’s lips, as she was the only one you could clearly see. Yet that didn’t seem to matter because soon enough, a fight broke out.

That’s not looking too good.

Knowing better than to expose yourself right away, you waited. Telling yourself that if they needed help, then and only then, would you help them.

After a few minutes, you watched lighting make impact with one of the rocky cliffs, sending rocks all around. With Zuko and Iroh running off the ship to escape, you knew it was time to run after them. Help them find a way to get away from Azula for good. Although, as you stood, you suddenly felt lightheaded and your vision got blurry, sending you straight to the ground.

What the heck?

Struggling to gain any body strength, you tried to get up again, but it was useless. The hair across your body stood up, but you weren’t cold, you were sweating. Looking down, you saw that your hands were alit in fire.

W-what?! What’s happening to me! Stop it y/n. Stop. Turn it off.

Panicking you tried to shake it away, but nothing was working, and your breath began to quicken.

What’s happening?! No. Stop. No!

Suddenly, you lost all sight of what was in front of you, and a blinding white light encompassed your mind. You closed your eyes, but it didn’t go away. When you reopened your eyes, you were faced with scenery you had never seen before. In the distance, high above you, there was an older man in what appeared to be old Fire Nation robes, and a young boy dressed as an Air Nomad on a dragon.

Is that the Avatar?

Due to the distance, you couldn’t make out what they were saying, and they seemed so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t see you. This prompted you to do the only logical thing anyone could do; you screamed.

“HEYYY! DOWN HERE!! I COULD USE A LITTLE HELPPPPP!!!”

Instead of hearing you, your surroundings began to change. First, there was a lady dressed in Kyoshi attire. Then suddenly, you were in the middle of the ocean with a man from the Water Tribe about to send a massive wave towards you.

Holy shit.

Before you could react, your surroundings changed once again, and you were in the middle of a field with a female Airbender, soon switching to a Firebender erupting volcanoes around him.

Okay, what in Spirits name is happening to me.

You tried to scream again, but it was no use. It was like an awful dream, unable to move and watching events happen before you. No matter how much you screamed or flailed your arms around, neither person on the dragon seemed to be able to notice you. Letting out a final scream of desperation, you were ready to give up.

Where the hell am I? Is this a dream? Am I trapped here? WHAT EVEN IS HERE?!

Nothing made any sense anymore; you were almost ready to admit defeat. But then you saw it. It happened so fast, and you nearly missed it. Yet as your body became frigid in shock, you knew it happened.

The dragon looked at you.

Is… is that dragon fucking smirking?! Ohmyspirits it’s going to eat me. Who would have known, death by spirit dragon.

Enough with your blabbering y/n. I apologise, but it’s not time yet. You were taken aback, shocked that you received a response from the dragon.

How did you get in my head?! And time? Time for what! For you to eat me?!

Completely disregarding your concerns, the dragon’s eyes turned to stare back at you. Almost as if it were peering into your soul. The people upon him didn’t even notice the dragon’s current focus. Look at what they’ve done to you… if only they knew. We will meet again y/n, when it’s time.

The white light re-entered your mind, blinding you once again. Only this time, you were met with darkness.

A/N: Thank you for reading!! What did you think of the lil reunion??

GAHAHAHA we lowkey on some kdrama energy out here but anywaysss! please don’t be shy,, let me know what you think or send a message! i feel like this series is going downhill a lot faster than i expected :// idk anyway! even if its not related to my fics,, homie gets a lil lonely so id love to chat 😊

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko x you #iroh #sokka #katara #toph #azula #atla zuko #atla #atla x reader #avatar #avatar: tla #avatar the last airbender #atla fanfic #zuko angst #zuko fluff #coal brain x reader #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction

[heyyyharry]

Love Bites

(a blurb from the “My Girl” Series)

Warning: Smut.

Word count: 2020 (lol)

AU: older!harry, younger!y/n (4-year age gap).

Anon: Hey mg harry making out with bambi and maybe she left some marks on him and thr next day he has to shoot for a naked scene .At first he tries to refrain from opening his shirt but later does and when everyone teases him about it he just gets do smug because he fucked her right. And then maybe telling bambi all about it at night when they're in bed or she is sucking him off. Could u write smthng about it??

.

.

.

One, two, three, four.

Four love bites scattered across his neck. He’d forgotten how long he’d been staring at them as if they would disappear if he looked long enough.

When he returned to the room, she was still perched on the bed, her hair damp and her skin flushed from their intense love-making. She pushed herself up and blinked innocently at him. “What?”

His irritation was easily detectable. He marched toward the bed and pointed to the red marks she’d left on his neck. On contrary to the horror on his face, she fell back, laughing into her palms.

“It’s not funny!” he grumbled, his face growing hot. She caught his wrist before he could storm out, dragged him back to the bed so he could sit on the edge. She scooted over on her knees, hugging his waist from behind, her cheek cool against his naked back.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Was he mad at her?

“I told you not to leave a mark,” he heard himself say and looked over his shoulder to find that she’d pulled back, frowning.

“I didn’t mean to.” She stroked one of the love bites with her thumb. “I’m sure they can cover it up with makeup.”

They could. But it’d be so unprofessional to show up on set with hickies all over and make people wait for you to get it covered up. He wanted to say that, but what came out of his mouth was a dejected sigh.

“I should go.”

As he rose, she moved toward the edge of the bed, looking up at him with her big twinkling eyes. “I didn’t mean it, really,” she whispered.

He considered her puppy dog face before dropping down on the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to her temple and gave a reassuring grin to ease her nervous frown. “It’s okay, kid. Might be a bit embarrassing but—” he chuckled, shaking his head. “God, Brian will tear me apart.”

Brian was his co-star, his best friend in the cast, and definitely the type to make plenty of dirty jokes about the love bites once he spotted it. Styles! Brian would call from the dressing room entrance so everyone could hear it, Looks like you had a fun morning, mate!

Harry snorted at all the reactions in the room, now more amused than annoyed.

“You’re sure it’ll be all right?” Bambi asked, eyebrows still furrowed. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

He squeezed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “It’ll be fine, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

.

.

.

She couldn’t help but worry about it.

She’d been reading and writing a bit since he’d left, in order to distract herself until he returned. He’d said it was no big deal, but the look on his face had said the opposite. In her defence, she hadn’t been aware of what she’d been doing. She never felt the need to use her head while he was buried deep inside of her, so she guessed it’d been her fault; she’d been careless.

She didn’t know if his contract had specifically stated that he should not get any marks on his body during the shooting period of the film. Even if there was, he still wouldn’t tell her. Also, his manager didn’t like her very much because Harry had dropped so many interviews and photoshoots for her, even before they were officially together. Maybe after this Jeff would hate her even more.

She had no idea when she’d drifted off on the sofa with a book opened and faced down on her stomach. She only stirred awake to the sound of her door being unlocked and opened. She pushed up slowly, stretching her limps as she welcomed him with a lazy smile. The aggression on his face worried her. As he marched toward where she sat, she opened her mouth to ask if he’d got into trouble, but he shut her up with his mouth against her before she could say a word. He gripped her hips, pushing her back on the couch with her head on the armrest.

They only broke the intense kiss so he could pull his shirt over her head and palmed each of her breasts roughly. Her nipples were hard, needy for him. She moaned his name when he kissed down her neck. She was only wearing her panties and he was wearing too much, so she pushed at his chest to get him to rise on his knees, stripped off his jacket and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

She got up to straddle his waist as he rotated to sit with his back against the couch. He gripped her thigh and brushed his nose across her chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. She held the nape of his neck, gasping and tossing her head back.

“What happened on set?” she asked breathlessly. He tried to drag her back in when she pushed away from him, gripping his shoulders. He started palming her buttocks, wanting to pull her to his cock which was poking against the fly of his trousers, but she fixed him with her eyes. “If you got hard after filming a sex scene with someone else, I swear–”

He shook his head rapidly and tried to kiss her again, but she didn’t let him until he answered.

“It’s the hickies,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed, either because he was horny or embarrassed to tell her why. “My castmates teased me for it.”

“And you got smug, didn’t you?” she flashed a grin, stroking his hair. He groaned into her neck and squeezed her bum as she ground her clothed pussy against his cock. She was already soaking through her panties.

“Brian said I must’ve fucked you right. You have no idea how much I wanted to say I did.”

“Why didn’t you say it?” she murmured, her eyes shut as he licked and sucked her neck, probably leaving his own marks on her.

“Not sure if I was allowed.” She felt his smirk against her hot skin as he stroked his tongue over her nipple and licked his way up to her mouth, sliding his tongue over hers. “Does it turn you on?” he whispered. “The idea of me...telling my friends...how hard I...fucked...you,” he said between sloppy kisses.

She couldn’t speak; her mouth was wide open but all she could do was nod. She took no time to unbuckle his belt and got him sitting butt naked on the couch. His eyes went dark, piercing at her as he ripped her panties in half and she let out a frightful scream. Before she could scold him, he shut her up with a passionate kiss.

“I’ll buy you ten new pairs,” he hissed against her lips while rubbing her clit. She was so wet she could hear the delicious sound of his fingers moving against her and then inside her. He pulled out before she could cum and inched his dick into her tight dripping pussy. They both gasped when he was all the way inside with nothing between them.

“Move,” she groaned, frustrated, unable to open her eyes.

His hips stuttered a bit before he started thrusting slowly. “Give me a moment. I don’t wanna cum now,” he chuckled, his face dazed with ecstasy. She ignored his helpless expression and started moving her hips and giggled when he smacked her arse as a warning.

“Do that again and I won’t let you cum.”

She simpered at his empty threat. “You don’t have the power to decide, Harry.” She fucked him slowly, rewarded by the wet delicious sounds coming from his throat. “I can just finger myself on that armchair over there while you watch. Get myself off the way I do when you’re not here.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she hissed, fingers tightened in his hair.

Harry growled as he clenched his jaw and palmed her arse, thrusting increasingly faster. He was so big and deep that she could feel him all the way in her stomach. He stuck his thumb into her mouth as he fucked her harder so she wouldn’t scream. The last time they’d been too loud, one of the old ladies from across the hallway had threatened to call the police. She couldn’t look at the lady in the eye after that.

“God, yes, fuck me. Just like that,” she gasped. “Want to see your face when you come in me.” She rolled her hips faster, every nerve in her body tingle and flare in response to his affectionate roughness.

Harry gave a long and rough groan, “Yeah. God–love you so much.”

“I know, baby. Love you too.” She stroked his cheek, biting her lip. “So fucking good, God, don’t stop, please --”

She leaned over him, hair falling across his chest as she moved, fucking herself on him in a rhythm that started slow, almost hesitant, but gained in speed and force as she went.

“So big, Harry. Filling me up, fuck.” One of her hands was in his hair, but her other hand had slid to one of her breasts, pinching and tugging on her nipple. “Gonna come on your cock. Gonna come on you.” Her hand moved from his chest to her clit, and she started to work herself over again, stumbling on the rhythm.

“Shit, let me,” Harry said as his fingers tangled over hers. “Want to–Want to get you off. Please let me?”

She nodded, eyelids fluttering as she found her pace again. He groaned and thrust up into her, matching her rhythm as his fingers rubbed frantically over her clit.

“Oh, oh God, Harry.” She cried out his name again and again as her back arched and she came, hips jerking against his hand, driving herself down on his cock. She collapsed forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head on the couch, kissing him wild. “Fuck me, Harry. I know you’re close.”

She groaned roughly as his hands went tight on her hips, holding her still as he thrust up and into her, hard and fast. She whimpered and licked along his neck, tasting sweat and salt, and Harry bucked up off the couch and pushed her hips down at the same time. He could only grunt as he chased the feeling.

She bit down on his earlobe, her voice shuddered, “Come in me, please, need it. Need you.”

He rutted up against her, mindlessly pushing deep one last time before he came, pulsing into her. She collapsed on his chest, numb and trembling. The only sound she could hear was the buzzing in her ears, the thunder of her heartbeat, and them panting together.

After a few moments of silence, he pulled back and laughed, looking smug at how dazed she appeared. “Sorry. Made a mess on your couch.”

As he grinned at her, she knew he wasn’t really sorry. He reached down and traced where he was still inside her to find his come still trickling out, and she felt herself blushing at the hungry look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t done with her yet. Her body was almost boneless so they might need to take a short break before consider doing anything again.

“I hope these won’t get you in trouble at work,” he said with a smirk, tracing his thumb across the skin of her neck; he was talking about his love bites.

She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. “The only trouble is that they’ll remind Eddie of how single he is, and he’ll torture me with an extra amount of work that I might not do anyway.”

He laughed, shaking his head and kissing her again. When his phone rang, it took him a moment to locate it. He slipped out of her unwillingly but kept her on his lap as he reached for his phone on the floor.

“Uh-oh. Someone’s in trouble,” she said and bit back a smile when they saw Jeff’s name on the screen.

#my girl series #my girl writing #my girl blurbs #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff

[obx-saltlife]

PAINT

Pairing: JJ x Reader You want to redecorate. JJ wants to help. Your plans change. Loosely based on the song Paint – Travis Garland Feat. Jojo Warnings: Smut (duh!), unprotected sex (please be responsible and do not do this), inappropriate use of paint (honestly, like what?) 3.2k of absolute filth tbh.

A/N: hoookay, here it is. More JJ smut. Enjoy and let me know how you like it!

“Oh, dude! What! I thought you weren’t gonna start today!”

Jumping from your spot in the middle of your mostly cleared out bedroom, you clutched your chest and held the half-poster with your other hand. Moving forward, you turned around to find the culprit of your almost heart attack.

“Shit, JJ! How did you get in here?” You asked as he moved from his spot by the door of room to approach you.

“Your mom was on her way out,” JJ Maybank replied, kicking off his beat up boots. “Is that what’s-his-name and Mila Kunis?”

Glancing back at the poster you were holding up, you flattened it out against the wall. A small cringe finding its way onto your face, not exactly sure what you were thinking with your previous choice in room décor. “Natalie Portman, actually.”

Nodding, JJ moved towards you and helped you rip the tape off the poster lightly. He didn’t notice the small confused look you shot his way. While you had planned to start the process of painting your bedroom, JJ was supposed to be taking his Touron Girl of the Month on a date. It’s exactly why you had picked precisely that moment to put your mind to something else. So you could forget that he was out and about with someone else – someone who wasn’t you. You’d always been very determined so it was no surprise that if you put your mind to re-painting your bedroom, you were going to get it done but it was definitely a surprise that JJ had cut his date short.

“You want some help?” He asked, moving towards the plastic tarp and other things you had set up to the side.

“I would love some, but what happened to….Lacey? Kacey? Macy?” You started. “uh, your date, what happened to your date?” You said, turning to him.

Glancing briefly in your direction, JJ averted his eyes to the painting supplies at his fingertips. “Oh, you know, it ended early. Stage Five clinger.” He ended mimicking the sound of a walkie-talkie and chuckling.

Cocking an eyebrow, you replied, “You could tell she was clingy in less than an hour?”

Grabbing the plastic tarp, JJ extended it and began setting it up on the floor as he continued, “Well, no. But I figured as much when she started going on about coming to visit during her breaks from school and shit.”

Laughing, you slapped a hand to your forehead. “I told you something was off way back at that kegger, man. I’m never wrong, Maybank.”

Throwing his head back in a lazy laugh, he groaned. “Yes, I know. I should have listened to my best friend, but I have needs okay? I’m a young boy, so weak…” He drifted off, laughing at his own joke.

Smirking, you turned back around and helped him finish extending the tarp all over the floor. “You say that as if you’re not already sex on legs to all the other Tourons, hanging on all the stupid shit that you say.” You threw the poster on the ground with the tarp, really seeing no use for it anymore.

Clicking his tongue in the obnoxious way you hated, JJ reached over and pushed you gently. “Do you want me to help you or not? Wouldn’t wanna interrupt all the hard work you’ve obviously already done all by yourself.”

“Of course I want your help,” Rolling your eyes, you moved to grab the paint cans you had picked up from the hardware store earlier that morning.

Walking back to the center of the room, you heard JJ shuffle and follow. Lifting the top of the can open, you made sure it was still the right shade of blue that you wanted to use for your own little space in the house. You sighed and stirred the paint a bit before pouring it onto the tray in front of you. You let it air out before standing up and leaning against the previously plastic-covered dresser. A comfortable silence fell between both of you as the paint aired out.

“Do you think it’s possible?” JJ finally asked, eyeing the poster in the corner of the floor.

“Do I think what’s possible?”

“Casual sex, you know, like, with a friend?”

Shrugging, you looked towards the poster again. “I don’t know. It depends on the people and their situation, I guess. Feelings can be a pain in the ass.”

“But it worked out for them, didn’t it?” JJ pressured, moving closer to where you had started dipping the rod in the paint.

You giggled, “Yeah, but it’s a chick targeted movie. I’m pretty sure if I had someone directing my life, I wouldn’t be painting inside on this beautiful day with you.”

Mocking offense, JJ retorted, “And what exactly would you be doing instead?”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned back around to the bare wall as you started applying the first coat of paint.

‘You, for one’ You thought with a smirk as you continued slathering the paint on the wall. Shrugging, you barely turned in his direction, “Just…other things.”

Repeating the process of dipping the rod into the tray, you continued painting the wall in front of you before turning back around to JJ who was watching you intently.

“Cheer up, JJ! We can watch the movie again later and your dick can live vicariously through Ashton’s as he does Natalie Portman.” You said, turning back to the task at hand.

You both fell into a rhythm as JJ shed his cut-off tank and grabbed the spare rod before helping you add color to your dull bedroom walls. It wasn’t hard for you to work as a team; your friendship went back a few years now, when your genius wit helped him get out of some trouble with Officer Shoupe.

Your friendship only grew from there, even after all the dumb shit you and JJ did (and there was a lot of dumb shit), you remained best friends; always together, for better or for worse, through thick and thin. Pogues for life. Your relationship had always been platonic, up until six months ago.

It started at a bonfire in the middle of the summer. After downing a couple beers and taking a nice long walk along the beach, you confessed to JJ the disaster that your first kiss had been. In his drunken stupor, JJ demanded to “fix it” for you. As you continued to ramble on, JJ swept in and kissed you.

The kiss was sloppy and the distinct taste of cheap beer, weed and a very far off hint of mint kind of ruined it, but from there, a new can of worms had been opened. Feelings weaved in and it had all been extremely confusing to say the least. His naturally flirtatious attitude with everybody put a sour feeling in the pit of your stomach and you could hear the irritated tone in his voice when you mentioned another guy friend from work. The sexual tension was definitely there too and despite neither of you making any move for more, it only increased.

JJ liked to play it hot and cold so there was no telling how he’d reach to his friend suddenly making a move to rip his pants off.

Pushing your thoughts to the side, you returned your attention to the now half-finished wall. You dipped the rod in the tray once again and a sly smirk spread on your face. You scooted towards JJ and turned inconspicuously, throwing him a smile when he turned and looked down at you.

You both remained quiet as you worked for the most part, only the odd sigh or grunt here and there, the music playing at a super low volume. JJ was completely focused and surprisingly taking it all very seriously. That is until you heard him snort when you bent over in your shorts to fix the dripping rod.

Feeling his eyes on you, you looked up at him. “What?” You asked as he looked down at you.

He motioned with his hand to your bent over body and playfully rolled his eyes. “Don’t…don’t do that.”

Cocking your head to the side, you played it off like you didn’t know what he was talking about before turning back to the problematic dripping rod.

You were almost done, a triumphant look making its way to your face when you felt something cold against your thigh. You felt paint drip as JJ slapped his hand on your exposed thigh before gasping loudly.

“What the hell, Maybank!?” You shrieked before dipping your fingers into the tray of paint in front of you and flicking it in his direction.

The ocean blue paint splattered over his defined torso before he let out a loud laugh. Looking over to your best friend, you noticed his eyes had intensified in color, contrasting against their usually hazy appearance. His eyes were trained on you, capturing your full attention. While his head remained still, he ran his hand over the rod, scooping up excess paint and copied your flicking motion right back at you. Never had you seen JJ in this light before and it intrigued you, to say the least.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” JJ spoke up; a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“Oh?” You smiled coyly, stepping forward and straight up planting your hand on his chest, leaving a paint mark on it.

You bit your lip, “Do you want me to?...finish it?” Inching closer, his hand gravitated back to your exposed thighs. Holding his eyes contact, the right side of your mouth tugged up in a smile.

JJ swallowed hard. “Painting? You want to uh, finish painting?”

‘I’d rather finish you’ You thought, biting your lip again. You simply nodded, knowing your thoughts would make their way out of your mouth if you did otherwise.

Smirking at you, JJ leaned towards you and whispered in your ear. “Then why don’t I believe you?”

He parted his lips to speak but you brought his head back up and crashed your lips together. You could tell he was stunned by your abruptness with his lips staying completely still but JJ was quickly brought into the mood when you felt him nip at your bottom lip. Gasping at his teeth nipping at your lip, you placed your hands on his warm chest, pulling him closer to you. Grabbing the back of your head, paint taking residence in the strands of your hair, he pushed your face closer to his.

Your right hand, still with some leftover paint, traveled to his neck. Your fingernails ran lightly along his neck, leaving traces of the blue pigment. As your nails left his mark on his skin, JJ’s mouth left your own and his tongue ran shyly along your jawline, leaving wet kisses along it before moving down to your neck. You felt his free hand leave a trail of the blue paint alongside your chin and the rest of your neck as he sponged kisses down your throat.

The t-shirt you were wearing was much too big for your frame, allowing JJ to easily pull the shirt up and over your head without much effort. Your mouth dropped, forming an ‘o’ shape, you gripped the nape of his neck, the rest of the paint on your hand finding its way onto the hairs on the back of his head. You guided his head down towards your chest. Feeling you trying to take over the situation, JJ inadvertently reached into the nearby paint can and stepped away from you briefly. A sly smirk donning his face as he flicked his fingers towards your body once more; specks of blue littering your chest before he waved his fingers in a disapproving manner. You gasped in surprise.

“Not tonight,” JJ said, pulling you down to the floor with him. “I’m gonna make you a believer.” You both laughed as he playfully flicked some more paint in your direction.

As he took in your body in front of him, your eyes traced his own. His chest was a little broad and well defined, the clear outline of a ‘V’ defined his hips and disappeared in the waistband of his boxers and his cargo shorts. You pulled your body up so your elbows were resting on the plastic tarp covering the floor as JJ busied himself with his belt buckle. You dipped your fingers into the paint tray and ran two digits down his abs with a smile on your face. With only his belt unbuckled and pants unbuttoned, JJ crawled his way back to you before spreading his legs and bending back down to your chest.

Kissing the hollow space between your collarbones, he moved his head to trail his wet lips along your sternum. Your breathing picked up when JJ moved his head to the left, kissing along the swell of your breast. As his mouth ran along the curvature, his other hand moved to the waistband of the old shorts you were wearing. As JJ undid the button with ease, he ran just the tip of his tongue from the outer part of your breast to your nipple, tracing the areola. The combined sensation of his wet tongue, drying paint and talented fingers rubbing against your underwear, had you curving your back; pushing your chest forward towards him.

Picking up his head, JJ looked at you with his signature shit-eating grin. “Enjoying yourself, are ya’?”

While your body might have given in to JJ, you weren’t ready to verbally admit it yet. Steadying your breathing, you let out a quick, “Not yet.”

Raising an eyebrow, JJ asked, “Not even when I do this?” before lowering his head back to your chest and pursing his lips to take your right nipple in his mouth before sucking it hard.

You pressed your lips together to prevent the moan that vibrated against your vocal chords to escape. You weren’t about to give JJ the satisfaction. You shook your head again as you watched JJ look up at you again.

“Hmm, shame,” JJ replied, bringing his mouth back up to your neck. “Because that little moan you just tried to stop was so fucking hot.”

You could feel his fingers slipping inside your underwear and towards your wet center.

“You don’t have anything you want to say right now?” JJ asked, as his fingers drummed against your clit.

Your breathing was ragged and you struggled to suppress any noises. You shook your head as JJ continued to play with your clit before moving down to your entrance. You were losing to his touch. Wanting to keep an upper hand, you composed yourself fast enough to reach for the zipper of JJ’s cargo shorts.

As JJ continued to whisper dirty but incredibly arousing things in your hear, you slipped your hand in his boxers fast enough so he wouldn’t notice. Feeling he was hardening, you wrapped your hand around him, throwing him completely off-guard. His fingers stopped teasing you, his voice was hitched in his throat.

Moving your hand up and down, you smiled, “Problem, JJ?”

As your hand reached the head of his cock, you ran your thumb along the slit, spreading the first drops of pre-cum around. Gasping, he composed himself just as you shifted your bodies around so that you were now sitting up and JJ was awkwardly hunched over.

JJ groaned your name.

He moved his hands to your back, running them from your shoulder blades to the small of your back. He stopped just at the edge of your underwear. Looping his hand around to your front, he slipped his hand fully into your underwear. Finding your core, he inserted a single finger, curling it upwards and aiming for your g-spot.

With the feeling of his finger pumping into you, you let out your first moan of the afternoon. Your sound caused JJ to pump faster before adding a second finger. You too, continued to pump his length in your hand, the pre-cum oozing from the tip, soothing any friction. Every so often, you would run a finger along the underside of the head, where it met the shaft, causing him to jump.

JJ’s gasps became more frequent and you relished every single one. They hinted he was getting closer to his impending orgasm. Not wanting him to find release in a hand-job, you pushed him down onto the floor. JJ fell back onto the floor with a semi-shocked look on his face. You stood up on your knees and slid your panties all the way down your legs before kicking them off. Now, being fully naked in front of him, you crawled over to JJ, pulling his shorts and boxers down his legs, leaving them in a pool of fabric at his ankles. His length fell back against his stomach and as you positioned yourself above his hips, you took his cock in your hand, guiding him into you. Once JJ filled you completely, you let out a sigh of relief before placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

JJ’s own hands moved up form his sides to grip your hips as you found a pace for you both. Using his hands to guide you along his dick, you grinded your hips into his pelvis, causing to blurt out all sorts of profanities.

“Fuck! Oh yeah,” JJ’s eyes rolled back in bliss.

His fingers pressed tightly into the skin of your hips as you felt him moving his hips to meet your own.

“Oh god, JJ” You gasped, quickening your pace. You switched from grinding yourself to moving up and down on his cock.

JJ’s hands traveled down from your hips and rested on your ass. He then began to help you move on top of him, his thrusts becoming harder. You could feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release as JJ’s thrusts had your insides tighten.

As you squeezed around him, your muscles clenched and JJ’s moans grew louder. “Fuck, I’m so…so close.”

Knowing you had brought him to the edge, you clenched your muscles tighter once more before you felt your orgasm explode inside of you; a tight coil, springing loose from deep inside. The evidence of your arousal coating JJ and it wasn’t too long before he followed. The spasm of your walls sent him into a state of ecstasy. His thrusts soon ceased and you felt his head twitch inside you.

With JJ softening inside of you, you leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek before sneakily dipping two fingers in a nearby paint can and smearing them on his nose. His chest was rising heavily as he tried to regulate his breathing and laughed. He grabbed your head and brought your forehead to his own. Stretching his neck somewhat, he kissed your lips softly and smiled.

“Maybe we should finish painting?” His voice gruff and raspy.

Smirking, you replied. “Dunno, I kinda like what we’re doing right now.”

Returning your smirk, JJ wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you close to him for a repeat of your actions; the painting (at least on the walls) long forgotten.

#JJ Maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #obx #outer banks #outer banks netflix #jj maybank #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #outer banks imagines #obx paint #obx masterlist

[bunnys-fics]

Imma admit I relate to todo wayyyy to much but here’s some content for my simps

Dating someone's who's emotions were closed off could be difficult sometimes but, somehow you and Shouto managed to grow to understand each other. However when it came to how openly affectionate you could be...there was always a drift between you two.

The both of you decided to host a small gathering in your shared apartment before everyone got too busy with their hero work. However  Shouto's ex classmates were quick to show their signature trait. Those being...

1. They loved to see your boyfriend mad.

And the second and most important thing..

2. They loved flirting with you and making you nothing but a blushing mesh

Time skip~

"Woah y/n...you sure are getting thicker," a slightly drunk Mina called out.

"Mina she's always been that hot," a smirking denki cheered.

"I think you should drop half and half and come home with us tonight."

"Guys as much as I love compliments...I love Todo!"

"I bet you'd be the prettiest little thing all tied up," Sero wheezed before your irritated boyfriend let out a loud cough.

"I suggest you all go the hell home and keep your disgusting hands and comments away from my little fire." Suddenly everyone in the room let out chuckles before heading out the door.

"I hope a certain little snowflake doesn't think they aren't gonna be punished tonight."

"But I-"

"Just remember that bad girls don't get to cum."

"Sho you can be serious."

"Little snowflake I suggest you address daddy the correct way before you end up over my knee..actually I bet a little pain slut like yourself would enjoy something like that."

"Why don't you lay over daddy's lap and take off those annoying clothes of yours." Your hands immediately strip your lower half but before you can remove your lingerie an order is  barked out.

"Snowflake daddy wants you to keep those on until the nights over so that you can see just how fucking sloppy and needy you constantly are.."

"I-...yes daddy."

"Such a good little thing practically begging for me to use my quirk all over that pretty little body." A heat sensation quickly came down on your ass cheek partnered with the stinging sensation his hands caused leaving a slight mark.

"Imagine what people would think if they could see their innocent little friend practically begging to be burned and cooled down." His hands swiftly came down to each cheek a couple more times before your panties were practically soaked.

"Take those off so I can shove them down your slutty little throat while I fuck you..gonna make you look nice and pretty on film little snow." Before even a glance, the once soaked panties you were wearing were being used as a makeshift gag and he began to tease your folds with his cock. The tip began to warm before he slammed full force inside of you making sure to drop the temperature of his cock.

A shiver and moan violently ripped throughout your body, "awww is my pretty little snowflake gonna cum just from getting a cold cock shoved into her warm little hole."

"I thought a soaking little slut like yourself wouldn't have such a bold reaction to getting stuffed full..but I guess you can't help that my cock is just too good."

"Sho please stop teasing!"

"Little one..if you want anything from me..you better learn how to address me."

"Daddy I promise that I'll be good mm...just need your cock ramming me for everyone to see."

"My pretty little fuck doll that's always begging to be used." Whines and begging slipped out your mouth as your orgasm began to quickly approach..

"My little snow always looks so fucking pretty while loosing herself all over my cock..my once little innocent baby has became nothing but a corrupted whore."

The feeling in your stomach began to cause your legs to slightly twitch before one harsh thrust caused you to tip over the edge.

"Jesus y/n..you always grip my cock so fucking tight..making sure that you get filled up by my cum huh?"

"Please give me your cum daddy!"

A throaty moan of your name echoed from his mouth as he spilled inside of you. A lazy smile grazed his lips before snuggling closer to you.

"pretty girl you gonna warm my cock for me?"

"Yes please!"

"Can't wait to show all these nasty fuckers just how pretty you get when your minds occupied on nothing but my cock."

"SHO!"

"you really can't blame me little snow..your just so pretty"

#mha x y/n #mha smut #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha shouto #shouto x reader #mha todoroki

[nonsensical-twistedriddles]

Hey, what do you think would be the ideal type for each dorm leader?

hello hello ! this is a question for me, as in what i personally think? ( ˘•̥ _•̥ ˘ ) if so, these are all just guesses based on what i know about them (i hope that’s okay)! i wasn’t sure if you’d like to read lengthy paragraphs on what i thought so i tried to condense condensed my ideas as much as i could into two parts (physical appearance and character), each with their own bulleted list ❀ܓ(｡◠ ꇴ ◠｡ ) i hope you enjoy!

📝to note: some parts may have more or less information depending on the dorm leader. this is because i don’t think they’d mind much if a specific thing varied compared to the others (e.g. hair length, height,etc.). also i kept some of my ramblings in because i couldn’t bring myself to take them away (some of which were written in my language but translated into english). i promise i tried to shorten these

riddle rosehearts

Physical Appearance

He’d prefer someone shorter than him, though he wouldn’t mind anyone taller so long as it’s not to the point that he’d have to strain his neck just to look at them

There’s a common trait in my country that I tend to hear whenever people gush about the people they like which is “malinis” (means “clean” or “neat” or “tidy” depending on how it’s used in a sentence). I’d like to think that Riddle would want someone like this; someone who doesn’t look sloppy and is refreshing to look at (hair is neatly combed or groomed and isn’t covering their face, skin looks bright and healthy, clothes are always fixed and smoothed, etc.)

Character

He would like someone patient and a bit more laid back compared to him (though not necessarily lazy),

who isn’t afraid of voicing out their opinions (in a nonaggressive manner plz thank),

and is cheery enough to the point that their happiness is contagious.

He wouldn’t like anyone who constantly tries to cling onto him like a koala but he’d also like it if they relied on him from time to time especially if it’s in things he’s good at (babey wants to be there for you too)

asshole ashengrotto

Physical Appearance

He’d probably like someone shorter than him so that he can look at them properly and easily tell what their feeling (especially whenever they’re flustered)

and ngl just so that he can look down on them.

I’d like to think that he’d like someone as stylish as him too, or at least tries to dress decently. No way he’s going to be with someone who doesn’t even try to look respectable even when it’s only on the outside.

Character

I think he’d like someone reserved, not just because they’re able to control and discipline themselves, but because he’d be more interested to find out more about them.

Someone with good composure and who wouldn’t make irrational decisions or jump to conclusions,

confident, especially if because they like to think through and consider things and prepare

independent, so that he wouldn’t have to constantly worry over them (and because he’d rather have someone as equally capable as he is).

He wouldn’t like anyone who is constantly trying to win the favour of others or follows the majority(?)

kalim al-asim (asim kilig)

Physical Appearance

Honestly speaking? I don’t think he’d have a preference in terms of physical appearance. I can’t really see him saying that he’d like someone who “looks like this” or “looks like that”?

I could argue though that he’d like someone “fluffy” (cute, small and soft like a kitten) because it’d be fun to be around them, hug them, tease them and take care of them.

Character

“fluffy”

Definitely someone he can be himself around or is similar to him.

Someone who’s bubbly and sociable like him,

“a big bright ball of energy”

Someone who can handle his carelessness and recklessness and is willing to be responsible enough to contrast it when needed

vil schoenheit

Physical Appearance

He wouldn’t care much if they were shorter or taller than him so long as they’re pleasant enough to look at.

Like Riddle, he’d like someone who takes great care of themselves or is at least conscious of how they present themselves to others. 

They wouldn’t have to be anyone as pretty as him (because no one can be as pretty as him) or pretty at all, just someone who keeps their skin clear, hair neat, follows a good skin care routine and has a nice figure (that they care enough to maintain).

Character

We all know that he doesn’t like lazy people so I think he’d like someone who’s hard working and responsible,

preferably someone who isn’t easily unsettled by stressful situations because the last thing he needs in a cowering bunny that can’t stand up for themselves.

He wouldn’t mind anyone headstrong, so long as they can respect the way Vil is without him having to constantly tell them off since I don’t think he’d like anyone irritating him with such things.

leona kingscholar

Physical Appearance

He would like someone who is easily to look at; basically not tall enough to the point that he’d be craning his neck or short enough that he’d have to drop his chin into his chest just to see you.

Preferably someone with short hair, so that when the time comes that he decides to nap with them, their hair isn’t all over his face trying to suffocate him or constrict his body like an anaconda (I don’t know I wrote this at 1AM)

More of a personal opinion thing but I think he’d like someone with a refreshing smile.

Character

Essentially, someone who can mother him (kitty needs mothering) or is reliable.

He’d certainly want someone with a little bite; someone who can make a stand or stand their ground, especially if it’s with him. If all a person did was constantly agree with him, he’d get annoyed and have no fun at all.

idia shroud

Physical Appearance

As long as they’re not too overwhelming to look at, I think they’d be okay.

With that being said, I think he’d prefer someone shorter so their height doesn’t get to him too much. 

He couldn’t care less if they were always in big baggy clothing, to be honest that type of fashion sense speaks to him.

If all else fails, he’d have to talk to them everyday through a screen to avoid getting too nervous around them.

Character

I think he’d like anyone who’s optimistic and supportive but not to the point that their light blinds him too much.

Just a person that doesn’t pry too much with his decisions and can stay the way they are without getting influenced too much by him. 

He would like someone who has the same sense of humor or at least someone he can relate to in jokes.

malleus draconia

Physical Appearance

(Since he’s too tall for anyone to be taller than him) He’d want someone that he doesn’t have to struggle with talking to in terms of height.

I don’t think he’d like anyone who dresses sloppily, so he would want someone that looks respectable.

Character

Hehe someone INVITINGヽ(*´∀`)ﾉﾟ

He would like someone who’s appealing to him. Similar to Azul, he’d want someone who he’ll want to know more about (though they don’t need to be reserved).

Someone with a strong sense of self and, in turn, can be someone he can be around with without having to pick up after them.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #malleus draconia #soriwrites

[spacehologramcollection]

Request; The Kombat Krew and lazy, hazy mornings.

Pretty sure this was requested, trying to find the ask for it, but it’s a super cute ask and I live for some fluff. Just shitting you, it’s got some NSFW in it as well!  Warnings; NSFW, 18+ under the cut.  GIFS do not belong to me/ I did not make them.

Kabal;

·         For a man who’s fast and speedy, he sure is lazy. Like waking him up is a near impossible task.

·         He has seven alarms set, all of which are getting ignored. He hits snooze so many times it irritates you.

·         You’ll always wake up with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. He loves to spoon.

·         He’s hard to wake up, he can literally sleep through a hurricane.

·         If he has somewhere to be, he’ll eventually drag his ass out of bed, reluctantly. Each movement he’ll look back at you, with a look of sadness and jealousy plastered on his face. How come you get to stay in bed!?

·         If he doesn’t need to be anywhere, expect lots of attention, spooning, make out sessions with the potential to turn into something more intense.

·         In a morning he likes to slow things down and take it slow. The bed is so warm and comfortable, and outside is cold and has Kano in it.

·         Will often ring in sick to spend the day with you.

·         He doesn’t want to get out of bed at all. Everything is so soft. It’s his own fault for making it so nice and relaxing.

·         When you’re both awake, he’ll put Netflix on, let you rest your head on his chest and you’ll both cuddle and binge together.

·         He is not a morning person be warned. He needs some coffee to function, or he’ll be a mindless tired zombie.

·         He will bring you some morning coffee when he eventually gets up. He won’t get dressed to make it. The people in the apartment opposite can behold him in all his splendour.

·         If he has to wake you up, prepare to be awoken to the sound of his amazing, terrible, music taste. The man cannot sing but he sure as hell fucking tries.

·         “Why are we listening to Alanis Morrisette at 9 in the morning Kabal!?!”

·         “The good lord does love a song that slaps Y/N. See, the neighbours love it, their banging the walls to the rhythm.”

·         He’s such a little shit.

·         Morning sex is always on the cards. Has literally rang in sick, because you’re practically pawing at his dick and begging. He cannot say no to his Princess/Prince. Not when their wearing his shirt so lovely.

·         He’s loud in a morning. Your pour fucking neighbours. Between his noises, the song ‘Rather be’ by Clean Bandit and him banging around trying to get ready. It’s like living underneath a fucking stampede.

·         He’s such a little shit. He has the ethic of ‘If I have to be up, so the fuck does everyone else! But not Y/N. They get to nap’

Sub Zero (Kuai Liang);

·         Fucking hell. He is the definition of a morning person. He gets up before the crack of dawn. Even the fucking birds are like, go the fuck back to bed you mad bastard.

·         He doesn’t wake you up though. Unless you want to be woke up. It’s up to you though. You aren’t the Grandmaster and don’t have the responsibilities that come with it.

·         His body clock is always set to wake up an hour and a half before he’s meant to get out of bed. This gives him ample opportunity to admire you.

·         He’ll brush the hair from your face and hold you tight. He ensures he doesn’t touch any exposed flesh, as he knows that will wake you up. His touch is freezing after all.

·         He doesn’t want to leave you alone in bed, but he knows he has to. He has a clan to run after all.

·         He’ll rise quickly and silently as possible. He’s organised, so everything is already laid out and ready for him. He would hate to wake you up this early.

·         He has to do his early morning Meditation before leading the group one. So, he has to be on time. He cannot be seen being late, it sets a bad example.

·         If you have to be somewhere, he’ll make sure your alarm is set. And if you don’t have to be anywhere, he’ll make sure your alarm isn’t set. He wants you to enjoy your lie in.

·         He will fetch you a glass of water and put some fruit salad by your bed, ready for when you wake up. He’ll also leave a handwritten note.

·         “Good Morning Snowflake. You looked so peaceful whilst asleep, it would have been a travesty to wake you up. I shall see you soon. Love from, K.L” He won’t use a pet name. He’s not your Winter-boo-bear, or anything like that.

·         He doesn’t do lie-ins and the only time he ever sleeps in, is on the rare occasion he is sick or injured.

·         On these rare occasions, he loves nothing more than to snuggle up with you. He’ll fall asleep on you, finger intertwined and him gently slumbering.

·         He doesn’t do binge watching. Chase the fucking morning, live for this day and all the other pintrest slogans.

·         If you do wake with him, he’ll secretly love it, it’s a chance for you both to spend quality time together. At least a few hours of meditating, walking or reading.

·         Morning sex isn’t happening. He’s a busy man in the morning. He’s a little curious about it but not overly. He’ll make it up to you though!

Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi);

·         Like Kuai he has to rise early. Except, he isn’t a fucking morning person at all. Nobody dares speak to him before he gets some tea and wakes fully up. He’s a moody bastard. He does not wish to be awake at this time. He wants to be in bed with you. But he will never say that to anyone but you. He’s got to be a tough and stoic master.

·         He’ll wake before you, he doesn’t need an alarm, his body clock is set… much to his dismay. He wishes it would switch off for once. He isn’t lazy, he just loves the feel of your body against his.

·         He is naturally warm, so he keeps you warm and your temperature cosy. And he knows, as soon as he stands to leave, the warmth will be taken with him.

·     ��   So, if its cold outside, he’ll always rise that little bit earlier, to go fetch you a hot water bottle to replace his warmth.

·         He’ll give you a kiss on the back of your head, pull you in closer, and grab your hand. He loves to feel close to you. Even when you’re still asleep.

·         He takes full advantage of the moment, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, there’s no fear or judgement. You’re asleep. You do hear them on occasion though.

·         Before he goes, he’ll plant a kiss on your forehead, wrap the blanket around you and take one last look. Cementing and committing the image you slumbering so soundly in his head for a lifetime.

·         When you eventually awake, he’ll be there, holding a cup of coffee/tea. All he’d want in return for this reviving elixir, is just one kiss. And he’s happy for the rest of the day.

·         He doesn’t get to spend mornings in bed, he cannot be seen to be lazy, as it’s a sign of weakness.

·         He wishes he could be though. He’d love to be holding you tightly in bed a bit longer. Waking up at a more civil hour. Just the two of you lounging around together, enjoying each other’s company.

·         A man can dream.

·         Morning sex is not off the cards for him. Unlike Kuai. He’s totally down for some romantic, spontaneous morning sex. What a great way to wake you both up, get the old heart racing and get his brain functioning!

·         It’s fucking wild and like magic.

·         Everyone knows when you’ve both engaged in the chopping of the morning wood; he’s less of a moody arse for the rest of the day. Will hum to himself, smile and let small mistakes fly. Nobody is going to be like “Did you guys bone?” because it will turn into a “BONE!?” situation from Brooklyn 99.

·         “HOW DARE YOU TAKEDA TAKASHI I AM YOUR GRANDMASTER!?”

·         Because that will put him in a bad mood.

Erron Black;

·         The man can pick and choose when he wakes a lot of the time. Unless he’s in his Black Dragon days. Then he has to haul ass. Kano lied to him. He said he was a laidback boss, that was bullshit. Why else is he awake at 6 in the morning? Oh yeah, to go on a shit filled mission.

·         He’ll be envious of you getting to sleep in. But he won’t wake you. His darlin’ needs their sleep. It wouldn’t be a nice thing to do either. So, he’ll leave you asleep. Not before he spoons you a bit more though.

·         Kotal is a little more relaxed on certain days. Sunday. Sunday is the one-day Erron doesn’t have to do sweet fuck all. So, he lives for Sundays.

·         He’ll love to just lay in bed, having you laid close to him. Either an arm lazily extended, holding you close. Or you on his chest, his hand playing with your stray hair idly. He never had this in the Black Dragon.

·         Only time he had this was if someone covered his job, something he hated to do. Or if he called in sick. Something he also doesn’t like doing. But, Kano keeps the weekend for himself. Because you know, when you’ve got Erron and Kabal hauling ass, who needs to actually work?

·         He does refuse jobs to spend time with you. He lives for mornings where you don’t have to wake up till the afternoon. Mornings where you don’t have to get out of bed, where you can just lay in bed, cuddling and caressing each other’s bodies.

·         He loves mornings that turn into afternoons, which then turn into wild nights out, which replicate the lazy early mornings in turn the next day.

·         Morning sex is a big ol HELL YES! From him. He loves it. Sloppy, slow, fast, paced, not paced. Doesn’t matter. If you’re down to fuck, he’s down to fuck with you.

·         Nothing better than some morning sex to get the day started!

·         Or morning sex to set the rest of the days pace, starting with you two staying in bed till you turn into puddles.

Raiden;

·         When he wakes up its always before you. His body clock is set to a weird schedule. But he will always wake before you. He doesn’t need a lot of sleep either. So yeah, he’s awake before you.

·         He kind of watches you sleep for a bit. Curious as to what you’re dreaming of. His dreams aren’t fun. There more premonitions, mixed in with red-herrings, filled with dread and impending doom. But its cool you get to dream of owning a penguin.

·         He loves how peaceful you look, how you smile whilst you dream and how your eyes twitch and move as you slumber.

·         When he has to drag himself out of bed, its not a hard task, he is an all-day person. He functions at his peak all day. He’s just ready to get going!

·         At first, he’ll wake you up, so you can come and enjoy the day with him, but upon realising you don’t have the energy always. He leaves it up to you.

·         If you want to get up and have an energised morning, then come along grab your shit and get ready to go!

·         If you feel more tired and you crave more sleep, he’ll leave you to slumber away. Not before giving you a kiss before, stroking your forehead and promising to return quickly.

·         As for a morning lay in… that’s a different kettle of fish.

·         He must consult the elder gods before laying in. But on a serious note, he’d never had a lazy morning in bed till he met you.

·         His life has always been about putting the safety of Earthrealm first. Self-care last.

·         When you finally tempt him into a lazy morning, he’s very curious and slightly cautious. What if something bad happens to Earthrealm whilst he’s lounging about!? You have to reassure him that its well protected. With Sub, Scorpion and the Special Forces all on alert, you’re sure he can go one day without having to babysit an entire realm.

·         Winning him over is hard however. But you eventually do it via the line of ‘Don’t you want to experience what its like to be a mortal?’ informing him most Mortals do sweet naff all on their days off.

·         You have to teach him to embody the sloth. He is one of the bed, the bed is one with him.

·         He doesn’t get the appeal of laying in bed whilst he’s wide awake. He’s ready to start the day the moment his eyes open.

·         You’ll have to show him the upsides to it. Like, being able to cuddle, have a bit of a steamy make-out session. Potentially have some sweet morning sex.

·         The possibilities are endless, and he is ready to do some exploring/ learning more about this strange custom.

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat x reader #x reader #Sub Zero #Scorpion #Erron Black #Raiden #Kabal #Kuai Liang #Hanzo Hasashi #Sub zero x reader #Scorpion x reader #Erron Black x reader #Raiden x reader #Kabal x reader #Kuai Liang x reader #Hanzo hasashi x reader #mk #mk11 #mortal kombat 11

[tibbinswrites]

oh my god I would love a prompt for destiel + 78 (unless u aren't into writing destiel then anything spn is fine 😊) no pressure tho!

Whelp, here it is! Sorry for the wait. I hope you like it. It’s my first attempt at smut and is pretty much all angst (which is why I’ve placed it under the cut).

Destiel is my favourite pairing, I promise! I didn’t write this just to torture them!

You picked SUCH a good prompt, my friend, excellent random number choosing.

(send me a number between 1 and 635 and I’ll write a thing for you)

78. Somewhere back along the line you lost your love and I lost your trust. (Fade Away – Bruce Springsteen)

When Dean pushed through the bead curtain of Cas’ cabin, he didn’t even look surprised to see him lying underneath one of the camp’s other residents, grunting and gasping out encouragement as he was fucked deep and tender. One hand clutched at the guy’s ass, the other slid through his receding hairline. For Cas’ part, it didn’t bother him that Dean had just walked in either, he just glanced in his fearless leader’s direction without his hips even slowing their pace. Dean stood there with his arms folded and looking all kinds of imposing. Cas just rolled his eyes; sex was enjoyable, one of the most enjoyable things he had found, in fact, and Dean was not going to spoil it by being… well… Dean.

“Get out.” Dean said harshly.

Cas cursed as Jeremy practically toppled off (and out of) him in shock, accidentally planting an elbow in his (soft, weak, malleable) stomach.

“Sir!” Jeremy stammered, trying to salute while grabbing for his pants with the other hand. Cas smirked, shifting himself more comfortably against the pillow so he was at least more reclining than lying. He didn’t bother to reach for the sheet, there wasn’t any part of him that Dean hadn’t seen before. He tucked an arm behind his head and tried to affect a coquettish tone.

“Is it your turn now, Commander?” He teased as Jeremy scrambled from the cabin with his fly still open and his shirt unbuttoned.

“Are you the camp whore now, Cas?”

“Of course not, I don’t get paid.” He rolled over to reach his bedside drawer and pulled out a joint and a lighter, not bothering to offer one to Dean, he wouldn’t take it, not anymore. “You couldn’t have waited until we finished?” 

He took a deep drag, letting the drug work its magic and sighing as it did. Suddenly his stomach didn’t hurt quite so much, and that brief flash of irritation was soothed away.

“Would you have finished?” Dean said. And it wasn’t a question, merely what passed for his version of a joke now.

Cas snorted obligingly. “One way or another, yes,” he answered anyway.

“Put your pants on.”

“Why? Aren’t you going to just take them off again.”

Dean looked revolted, as though he hadn’t fucked Cas in this very room multiple times.

“I’m not interested in sloppy seconds. And we’ve actually got more important things to think about than your dick.”

Cas took another lazy drag, more just to irritate Dean than because he actually wanted to. The smoke curled in front of his eyes and through the haze he saw Dean’s shape and could almost, almost pretend.

“Are you sure?”

“Cas!” Dean barked.

“Fine.”

Cas dressed one-handed —far more gracefully than Jeremy had, it had to be said (heh, graceful he wasn’t, not anymore, no, he was gracegone, gracedepleted, gracedead) —and after a few minutes he stood in front of his commander, puffing on his joint.

“You sure you’re not paid?” Dean observed, nodding to the weed.

Cas shrugged, “Tokens of appreciation aren’t payment,” he said, “I still let you fuck me and when was the last time you brought me flowers?”

Dean’s entire face seemed to tighten then, he hated it when Cas referred to their naked activities when they were both clothed, or really at all. Honestly, Dean seemed to hate pretty much everything these days. It was getting depressing.

“There’s a run leaving in fifteen.”

“And you made me put on pants for that?” Cas complained. He didn’t go on supply runs anymore, not since Risa had caught him taking whatever those pills had been in the back of the pharmacy they were raiding. She called it reckless and dangerous behaviour that put their whole team at risk; Cas called it efficiency seeing as he only would have taken the drugs back at camp anyway and at least this way he had more space in his pocket for the antibiotics they were supposed to be scavenging for.

Dean hadn’t seen his side of things.

“Lewis and Gregson got got.” Dean said, his voice as blank as his eyes, “There are croats wandering around near camp and I wanna find them before they find any more stragglers on patrol. Provided you’re sober enough to handle a weapon?”

“Never been a problem before,” Cas said with a salacious wink. He’d found it was easier to lean into the blitzed out sex-fiend persona than it was to admit how goddamned horrible everything in his life was (and goddamned indeed, literally. Abandoned, alone and stripped of everything great and righteous and holy that he had ever been).

Dean ignored him. Once he would have seen through Cas’ walls, tried to talk, tried to actually show him some comfort. Even though he had admittedly never been great at feelings, at least he’d had some back then. Now, Cas was pretty sure that Dean’s capacity to care had died when the resulting shockwave of Lucifer taking hold of his true vessel had been transmitted directly (and painfully) into Cas’ brain.

Cas trailed after Dean through camp, not bothering to match his stride, they weren’t equals anymore, not even friends really. Dean hated him, for delivering the news about Sam, for not being able to save him, for being a living, now-breathing, reminder that there was a God and that He didn’t care about the world He professed to love. To Dean, Cas was just another broken promise in his lifetime of trying to pick up the pieces.

He wasn’t making things better for Dean like this, he knew he wasn’t, but Dean wasn’t the only thing who’d lost everything. Cas’ home was gone, his siblings left him without a second thought, his Father renounced him and pulled his power from him and now he was useless and human and the only other person who might have cared suddenly didn’t.

Also, he’d lost two literal limbs and Dean acted as though he should just be able to walk it off. The brief high of orgasm and the longer-lasting bliss of pills was the closest he ever got to flying these days. He resented it as much as he mourned it, hated it as much as he indulged. But hey, the commander had a mission, and Castiel was still a soldier.

It was cold and Cas pulled the jacket a little closer around himself in the grey morning, glad he’d grabbed the thing on the way out and at the same time irritated that that had even been a thought to cross his mind, as though temperature was something he thought of now (it was, apparently).

Risa glared at him when he pushed through the flap of the command tent. Why their base of operations was a tent when their resident bum got the second-biggest cabin, Cas couldn’t even guess. Pity probably; he had changed species after all, he might as well get a double bed.

“Awake then?”

“Up and active, thanks very much.” Cas snarked back, ignoring the bare curl of contempt in her mouth at the implication. He actually liked Risa, despite all her hard edges she did still have something of a heart. She cared about her team at least, enough to know that it was better for everyone if Cas wasn’t involved, and enough to fight Dean on things that she thought were too dumb and suicidal, things that Cas had stopped caring about years ago.

“Who was it this time?”

Cas grinned, “I can’t seem to recall.”

Risa sniffed and turned to Dean, “Is he going to get us killed out there?”

“He’ll be with me.”

Risa pursed her lips and nodded, clearly unhappy but not willing to pursue the argument.

“Okay, so, you’ve got your team ready?” Dean continued, placing his hands on the table. He seemed impatient, itching to get out there and kill some monsters. “You take your team left as you leave camp; Burrows,” he indicated the large man half-hidden in shadow that Cas hadn’t even noticed. Lax of him really, poor observing, especially on a mission where they were going looking for things that wanted to kill them. “will go about fifty feet out. Cas and I will go a hundred and widen the circle. We’ll keep going like that until we flush these things out, got it?”

Burrows gave a jerky nod, Risa muttered a confirmation. Cas said nothing, he’d follow Dean, everything else was irrelevant.

“Then let’s go kill some evil sons of bitches.”

It wasn’t difficult to see why Dean was the leader in the way that the others jumped to do his bidding. He had a presence to him, steel forged with blood, a legacy hard-won and a respect earned. The whole camp bowed to him, followed his word, trusted him to look after them, to take out the infected no matter who they were (or had been). They trusted that he knew what he was doing. He was revered if not liked. He could be harsh and stubborn and didn’t often take the time to explain why people were to do something except ‘because I say so’.

Perhaps it was only because Cas had known him before, but he had actually stopped liking Dean some years ago. He still loved him of course (he didn’t think there was anything in existence that could change that), still respected him, still believed in him, but he couldn’t help but miss the softness that had once been so close to the surface, he missed the easy smiles and laughter that wasn’t spoiled by derision. He missed the jokes and the references he didn’t understand and the music and the car.

Baby had been left to rust under a tree at the edge of camp and every time Cas saw her it felt like there was a hole boring into his abdomen. When they’d first parked her (she was impractical after all, not suited to off-roading and not big enough for a decent supply run), before Sam, Dean had been meticulous in his care of the vehicle. He’d covered her with a tarp when it rained, kept her polished and pristine, turned over her engine to keep her purring, sat inside her, sometimes with Cas next to him, drinking beer and playing through his cassette tape collection.

He missed his Dean, warm and funny and shy and wickedly intelligent, he missed the man who loved to cook, the man who had convinced him that he was worth staying behind for, the man who had kissed him like it meant something.

He had never had sex with that Dean, but he had been more intimate with him in one conversation than in all the things he had done with this cold imitation in front of him now, the one who roughly grabbed his arm to pull him to standing, who thought nothing of leaving bruises on his (now bruiseable) skin, who practically shoved him out the door and towards the armoury.

Once they were geared up, Dean nodded a tense farewell to Risa and Burrows and he and Cas headed out first. The plan was to enter the woods at the same time and to keep an even pace so they could easily find each other should help be needed.

It was stupid of Dean to just take Cas, particularly when the other teams were made up of half a dozen soldiers each, but Cas didn’t question it. Perhaps Dean just wanted a break from being the leader, or perhaps Dean was finally ready to kill him, leading him into the woods and telling him to think of the rabbits before putting a bullet in the back of his head. Cas snorted, a fitting end to his life as any, he supposed.

“What’s funny?” Dean demanded.

“Oh, nothing,��� Cas said airily. “Just wondering if this is the part where you kill me.” He grinned at Dean and was surprised to see a flash of something in those cold eyes before he shook his head and turned back to the trees, gun held at the ready.

“I’m not gonna kill you, Cas,” he said quietly.

“Yes you are.” Cas said, as sure of this as he was of anything. “Maybe not today but you are going to be the death of me.”

Dean said nothing to that and Cas frowned at his expression, it was angry, because of course it was, but there was something else there too, guilt? Sadness? Grief?

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out a hand to run his thumb once over Dean’s cheekbone, and Dean let him, which was more than he expected. “Don’t look like that, it was always my choice. I will die for you, Dean Winchester, and for nothing else.”

Dean pulled away after a moment, his face unreadable once more.

“Eyes open,” he said, beginning to walk again.

Cas followed, his gun at the ready. It was even colder under the trees, the watery sun diluted further by the lush canopy. The earth smelled of damp rot, clean in a way that so little was these days. His boots felt the ground give slightly with each step but thankfully it wasn’t muddy enough to hold him. A slight wind rustled the flora and made him shiver. Dean seemed unperturbed, used to things like cold while Cas was still adjusting, even years later.

He kept his eyes sharp on their surroundings as together they moved deeper into the foliage, falling into step this time, each taking turns to check behind them. There were more places to hide now but croats were unsubtle, they didn’t hide when there was the chance to spread their disease to fresh meat so he wasn’t worried about an ambush so much as he was about missing the signs of approach.

They’d probably passed around a third of the camp before Dean spoke.

“So… Jeremy, huh?”

Cas shrugged, “Among others.”

Dean scoffed, “Are you trying to sleep with everyone in camp?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Not everyone wants my ‘sloppy seconds’.” He still used fingerquotes sometimes. Partially because it had become a habit, partially because Dean used to find it funny.

Dean grunted at that, flushing slightly, which was honestly more of a reaction than he’d had to pretty much anything in a while.

“Why are we out here anyway?” Cas asked, and it was only a slight complaint, more curiosity than anything. “Everyone smart knows to stay in the camp and everyone who leaves goes with a gun.”

“We’ve got kids back there, Cas. Teenagers. They might be smart but they’re also idiots. They sneak out sometimes, dare each other to scale the walls, have parties a little way out.”

“So why not stop them?”

Dean huffed, “Because they’re kids growin’ up in this shithole of a world. I couldn’t stop them even if I wanted to and God knows they deserve to kick back every once in a while, might as well keep them as safe as we can.”

And there it was, the reason that Cas hadn’t swallowed a full bottle of pills and let it end on a literal high. A glimpse of the old Dean, the one that still cared about people, the barest hint of compassion. It was stupid how a bare few seconds of something other than anger could renew Cas’ will to live but whatever. It was enough because it had to be.

“Yes,” he said. “I agree.”

“Besides,” Dean continued as though Cas hadn’t spoken, his voice taking on a sharper tone. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneaking out sometimes too. At least the kids go in a group.”

“I miss the stars.” He confessed, his usual guards lowered by the appearance of what Sam used to call ‘Mother Hen Dean’.

“You can see the starts in camp,” Dean said, though less harshly than he could have. Then he lifted the walkie talkie to his mouth and pushed the button, they must have hit the halfway mark while Cas wasn’t paying attention. “Risa, Burrows, any sign of ’em?”

There was a small crackle of static and then:

“Negative.”

“Not yet, Commander.”

Cas waited until Dean clipped the walkie back to his belt before continuing, suddenly desperate to make Dean understand.

“It’s not seeing the stars that I miss. I miss hearing them, being able to fly among them, being a part of them.”

Dean glanced his way, looking a little disconcerted by his honesty.

“Stars make sound? Isn’t space a vacuum?”

“Not to an angel.”

Dean considered that for a moment, then his eyes flicked to something behind Cas.

“Cas, look-” He started to yell, but the croat was already on him and Cas was on the ground, his head spinning with the too-quick movement and the lingering sluggishness of whatever was still in his system. Then, there was rotten breath on his face and teeth gnashing inches from his nose and he regained his wits long enough to get his hands on the thing’s throat and push it away with all the meagre strength his human (only) form was capable of. One of its filthy, ragged nails raked across his cheek and he yelled, before his hearing whited out in a blast from Dean’s shotgun that took the croat’s head off. Thick blood splattered Cas’ face and shirt and he pushed the thing off and scrambled to his feet, scooping up his own gun and firing at another croat that had just emerged from the trees. He hit it between the eyes and it dropped. Cas had been a warrior for millennia after all, he had excellent aim, even when using human weaponry and possibly a little concussed.

The commotion had apparently attracted more croats though, and it might take a few minutes for Burrows’ team to find them in the brush. Dean whirled around, firing shot after shot with deadly accuracy and Cas followed suit.

Dropping bodies next to Dean everything else fell away: the drudgery of their day-to-day, their struggle for survival, the constant ache between his shoulder blades, none of it mattered because this was where he belonged.

And then Burrows arrived and a few seconds later Risa did too. Together they dispatched the croats from a safe(ish) distance, picking them off as they came into view. Soon there were none left.

Cas spun around to face Dean, grin splitting his face. This was a high in and of itself. It had been so long since he’d been in a battle, fought at Dean’s side, had any kind of purpose that he’d completely forgotten about reality until his eyes landed on Dean’s bloodless face.

“What?” Cas asked, glancing around, counting the soldiers, the bodies. They hadn’t lost anyone as near as he could tell, this was a victory. There was an amount of awkward shuffling and glances away before Cas remembered and then he laughed, gesturing to his cut cheek, which had almost certainly come into contact with some of that first croat’s infected blood. “Oh, I get it. Now is the part where you kill me.”

Dean’s expression twisted into something ugly and painful, then he glanced towards the others, who were watching the two of them with wide eyes.

“Go back to camp.”

“We can’t just leave you out here alone.” Risa said at once, always practical, though she didn’t suggest Dean go back to camp and let them take care of the issue.

“I said go!” Dean repeated, his voice half a growl, half a shout.

Burrows took Risa’s arm and whispered something, then he addressed Dean, “Radio if you need us,” he said. Gesturing for the others to follow as he started walking back in the direction of the camp. One by one the soldiers followed, some hesitating, as though they wanted to say something, goodbyes perhaps? Cas had slept with half of them after all, maybe they felt they owed him something. He waved.

“Bye.”

When it was just the two of them and a dozen or so dead croats, Cas raised his gun. “You know, I can do this myself if you don’t want-”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean growled, striding over to snatch his gun. “We don’t know you’re infected yet.”

“Blood to blood contact is how it’s spread, Dean.” Cas said calmly, wiping his face on his (just as stained) sleeve, though the damage was already done. “I think we can be pretty sure.”

“Well I’m not risking it.”

“It’s more of a risk if I go back to camp.”

“Which is why we’re not going back,” Dean insisted. “We’re waiting this out. Five, six hours and then we’ll know.”

“You don’t have to stay and watch me turn feral,” Cas argued. “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Well tough shit.” And with that, Dean turned his back and began to march further into the woods. Cas hurried to follow (because of course he did, why break the habit now?) but Dean didn’t go far, just until they were out of sight (and smell) of the corpses they left behind. Then he leaned against a tree and eyed Cas over. “What do stars sound like anyway?”

Cas smiled. “Like the striking of a match, like a windchime in a hurricane, like ice beginning to crack on a frozen lake.”

“Sounds distracting.”

“I learned to tune it out. But it was nice to have the option, you know?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, staring at Cas like he wasn’t talking about stars. “You goddamn idiot.”

Cas shrugged, rolling with the shift in topic easily. “It was inevitable really, I’m not what I used to be.”

“You don’t care, do you? You might be dead in six hours and you don’t even care.”

“Why should I?”

“Jesus, Cas!”

“I’m no use to anyone. I’m no role model, I’m no leader, I can’t heal and I’m not even a good soldier anymore. I provide nothing and I’m a detriment to the group, a waste of resources. You should look at this as a problem solved.”

“Wow. Fuck you.”

“One last time?” Cas grinned wryly. “I’d love to, Dean, but we probably shouldn’t risk it. Blood might be the main contaminant but we haven’t tested it with semen so-”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled, his hand raising to rake through his hair. “Stop fucking talking like that!”

Cas blinked.

“I’m just trying to be practical.”

“Yeah, well, don’t. This is your life, Cas, stop talking about it like it doesn’t matter!”

It doesn’t. He bit the words back. Instead he raised his hands in surrender and sat down on a fallen log, soft with rot.

“So what, you’re just going to stay with me until I start displaying symptoms?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Selfish it may be but he wanted the last thing he saw to be Dean’s eyes.

“You’re damn straight.” Dean said. “If the virus takes hold you wouldn’t be able to do it. And-” he hesitated, “and if I left you alone then you could go wandering back to camp and convince the guard to let you in after so long, infected or not.” He finished, though Cas had a suspicion that that hadn’t been what Dean was going to say.

“True.” He replied mildly.

Dean gave a gruff nod and leaned more heavily against the tree. They were silent for a while, listening to the sound of birds, the faint wind, the scurrying of small rodents. It was pleasant, more pleasant than it probably should be but Cas felt more at peace with himself now than he had on any number of pills. It was ending. It was over. He was finally done. It was more freeing than he’d expected.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, an apology he’d held in for far too long, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t save Sam.”

He remembered the anguished silence when he’d delivered the news, the resulting anger, the punch he hadn’t had the capacity to feel. He remembered feeling hopeless as he watched Dean shatter in slow motion, knowing that if he had the ability to change such a major event he would have given every speck of his grace to make it happen and also knowing that it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference.

“I’m not doing this now,” Dean said, his voice wavering on the edge of dangerous, a glint of something dark in his eye.

“Now’s sort of the only time I’ve got.”

“Then I’m not doing this, period. I won’t do deathbed confessions here. You might not even be infected, you don’t get last rites yet. We’ve got at least three hours before any of that shit becomes relevant so until then, I’m not doing this. Clear?”

“Fine. What about this weather then? A little cold for August, don’t you think?”

“Cas...” Dean warned.

“What? You don’t want to talk about anything real and I don’t want to spend the last few hours of my life listening to that little huffy thing you do when you’re pissed at me.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and Cas rolled his eyes at the sound of the aforementioned ‘huffy thing’.

“Stop rolling your eyes, I can hear it.”

“Oh really? What do rolling eyes sound like?” Cas teased. He probably shouldn’t find amusement in Dean’s irritation but he was dying so he figured he got a pass.

“Like an annoying asshole sitting three feet away from you.”

“That’s not a sound either, Dean.”

“Shut up.”

***

Three and a half hours later and things were much the same, except Dean now sat on the log and Cas was cross-legged on the ground, doodling nonsense patterns in the mud with a stick. He still hadn’t begun to show any symptoms of the croatoan virus taking hold and he was beginning to get bored; jittery too, he wished he’d brought even a joint with him but the whole mission was supposed to take less than two hours so he hadn’t bothered.

He sighed and used the stick to wipe away his current drawing.

“Having fun there?”

“I’m ecstatic,” Cas deadpanned back. “Are you going to shoot me yet?”

“No.”

***

Four hours and ten minutes in and now Dean was starting to get antsy; he kept checking his watch and looking at Cas and opening his mouth like he really wanted to say something but kept changing his mind last second.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” Cas said after the sixth time this happened.

Dean glared at him for the call-out but took a deep breath anyway, and he wouldn’t quite meet Cas’ eyes as he spoke.

“So it looks like we’re getting into the end of it now but just in case… are there any messages you want me to pass on?”

Cas blinked at him stupidly for a moment, “You’d do that?”

Dean shrugged, feigning casual, “I mean, not if you’re gonna start waxing poetic and shit but, you know,  if you’ve got an idea for a will or whatever.”

Cas snorted, “Sure. I bequeath all my toilet paper to Chuck and I’ve got a stash of oxy taped behind the headboard which I’m sure Frank would like back.”

“Okay, if you’re not going to take this seriously-”

“Dean, come on, I know the drill here. I’ll be burned, my cabin will be given to someone else, my stuff will be divided up as most benefits the camp and as my closest friend you get dibs on anything of sentimental value, what else is there?”

“Fine,” Dean spat venomously. “All your crap can burn with you, I don’t want any of it.”

Cas shrugged and looked away, unprepared for the sting that lanced through him at the words; not that he had much Dean would want, a ragged old coat and a few creased polaroids. “I guess that’s up to you.”

***

Another three and a half hours passed in tense silence before Dean finally stood from the log. It was well past noon now and Cas’ stomach had been cramping for the past fifteen minutes. He tried to remember the last time he ate, he still forgot that that was something he needed to do now. 

Sunlight speckled the ground with golden spotlights and everything looked just that little bit greener in the sun. It was warm enough now that both Dean and Cas had taken off their jackets.

“Right, I’m calling it. It’s been over seven hours and you’ve not tried to eat me. Looks like you got lucky.”

Cas levered himself to his feet using the moss-covered trunk behind him, thoroughly confused. There was no reason he wouldn’t be infected, he had an open wound on his face and had been covered in contaminated blood, he should have succumbed to the disease hours ago.

“Maybe it’s because I used to be an angel,” he guessed, touching the cut on his face. “Vessels often have a faint sense of grace about them even after the angel’s departure.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.” Dean said, completely uninterested now that there was no danger. He was still as tense as a coiled spring though, an air of energy tightly controlled but primed to explode at any second.

“Either way, it saves building a pyre. I daresay the firewood will be of more use in a month or so.”

He said it partially for the reaction, because he knew that Dean needed to be pushed or he’d take his anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it. He also said it because for the past few hours, Dean had been fidgety and quiet, distant and present at the same time. He hadn’t been barking orders or throwing out insults or disgusted looks, he’d been… almost worried and that was far too disconcerting for Cas’ (not as high as he wanted to be) brain to handle right now.

Whatever his reasons for saying it, it worked, Dean was on him in the time he took to blink, one hand pawing beneath his shirt, the other holding his head in place while Dean attacked his mouth, biting and sucking, teeth clacking against teeth. 

Cas allowed himself to be ravaged, craved it even. It still looked like Dean after all, even smelled like him beneath harsh soap of the camp. There was nothing gentle in it, there was nothing gentle in Dean anymore, but it made him feel more than all of the careful lovers and all the drugs combined. He welcomed the pain as he kissed back, just as feral, his hands going at once for Dean’s pants, expertly popping the button and pulling down the zip without looking. Dean pressed him back until his spine hit the tree trunk and then he pressed further still, grinding the hardening outline of his cock against Castiel’s.

Cas gasped, his head falling back against the tree with a thunk and Dean took advantage of the opening, latching his teeth onto Cas’ neck and clamping down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. Cas’s fingers danced upwards, under Dean’s shirt, mapping the firm muscles, the slight jut of his ribs, memorising the shape as he had so long ago, assembling Dean atom by atom until he was whole again. He wished he could do that now.

His questing fingers found a nipple and he pinched, rolling the nub tightly between his fingers. Dean let out a growl and pulled back to spin Cas around, slamming him back into the tree and yanking down his pants.

“Dean,” Cas panted, reaching behind him to pull Dean closer. 

Instead of obliging, Dean took Cas’ hands and placed them on the tree before jerking him back by his hips, pressing bruises into the skin. Cas scrambled for a moment to regain his balance but didn’t protest, ultimately it would probably be more comfortable this way.

He heard a hacking sound as Dean spit on his hand, and then he flinched when that hand wrapped firmly around his cock, beginning to jerk him slow and hard, twisting on every upstroke. He moaned, loud and unashamed, before biting at his own bottom lip, feeling sweat beginning to gather at the base of his neck until a rough tongue licked it away.

Dean nipped at him playfully and then reached his other hand around to tap two fingers against Cas’ lips, his chest warm and solid against the line of Cas’ back.

“Open up.”

Cas obeyed, licking around the digits, trying to cover them with as much saliva as he could, he knew this game well.

Once Dean was satisfied he pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and then, still squeezing Cas’ dick with one hand, wiped them over his own cock, slicking himself up as well as he could in the middle of the woods a hundred feet from camp.

Cas whimpered as he felt the blunt head prod at his hole and winced when Dean began to apply pressure, refocusing on the pleasure from Dean’s hand until he relaxed enough to allow Dean entry. Dean breached him with a grunt, sliding halfway in all at once, pausing there for only a few seconds before beginning to move deeper.

Cas whined, feeling the wind on his skin at the same time as Dean’s cock splitting him open was an overload of sensation and he loved it. Dean’s rhythm on Cas’ cock faltered as he focused his attention on fucking him instead but Cas didn’t mind, he didn’t need it in order to come anyway.

“Fuck.” Dean breathed as he bottomed out, rocking his hips without withdrawing as through trying to push himself deeper still.

“Yes,” Cas agreed. “That does seem to be what we’re doing.”

He could feel the glare on the back of his head.

“Shut up.” Dean said, shifting his hips back only to slam them forward again, nudging against his prostate and making Cas shudder.

“Make me,” he whispered.

So Dean did. He quickly set up a brutal pace and although he didn’t succeed in silencing Cas completely, the force of his thrusts kept knocking the breath from his lungs so that he could no longer form full sentences.

“Yeah, Dean, aah, just like-, yes!”

It was like his blood had been replaced with liquid fire. The lack of any real lube adding a hint of discomfort-on-the-edge-of-pain that made Cas want to scream. He bashed his fist against the trunk and desperately tried to push himself back to meet Dean’s every thrust. It was so good, it was just what he needed, one of Dean’s hands gripping his hip, the other on his shoulder, using him as leverage, using him to chase his own pleasure. Their breathing was ragged and too-loud and Cas was glad of the dense greenery that seemed to soak up all sound, keeping this moment theirs and theirs alone.

Shifting the angle slightly, Dean hit his prostate again and Cas keened, raising his eyes to the sky even as his shaking legs threatened to send him to the ground. His chest heaved, his ass ached, his dick throbbed, but Dean was there, Dean was looking at him, Dean was inside him, Dean was touching him as though he wasn’t something filthy to be avoided.

“Yes,” he urged, feeling that curl of pleasure low in his belly, chasing it with every thrust of Dean’s cock, “So close, Dean. Come on, fuck me.”

Dean grunted and his grip tightened, slamming impossibly harder into him while Cas moaned and whined and pushed back with what little (human) strength he could muster. He was so full, it was so good, his nerves were firing off lightning-

And then he was flying, bliss covered him like a soft blanket and he was among the stars once more, his wings were heavy and comforting on his back, his eyes opened to colours that humans didn’t even have a name for. He was strong and eternal and sure of his purpose and he had Dean, the most brilliant soul ever created, and he would guard him and guide him and love him and be loved in return...

Dean groaned loudly in Cas’ ear as he gave one last thrust and as spilled deep inside of him, plastering himself to Cas’ back for a few seconds while they both rode the aftershocks of their respective orgasms.

And then it was over. Cas hissed when Dean pulled out and then he slumped to the ground, boneless and sore and more frustrated than ever. Tears stung his eyes and he slammed his fist into the tree again, screamed, hit the tree again and again until his knuckles were bloody and he couldn’t breathe through his sobs. It was always the intense orgasms that drew this out of him; for one, glorious moment he had believed again, everything had been beautiful and right and clear. But now the moment was gone and he was back in the mud, just trying to coax air into his uncooperative lungs while Dean watched him impassively, buttoning up his pants.

“Somewhere back along the line you lost your love and I lost your trust,” he said quietly when he’d regained at least a measure of control over his body. He felt empty now, drained. How could sex so good leave him so damn hopeless?

Dean frowned at him. “Are you quoting Springsteen at me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before taking Cas under the elbow and hauling him to his unsteady feet. He even bent to pull up his pants for him, which had tangled themselves around his ankles.

And it was moments like these that usually brought a spark back to Cas’ life, evidence that the Dean he loved hadn’t been completely eradicated when Sam let the devil in.

But they were only moments, as fleeting as they were uncertain. Neither of them were what they had once been. The most beautiful soul in existence was tarnished and ugly, incapable of love, the emotion that had once come to him so easily, and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, bore that title no longer, unfit to do anything but seek relief in moments, unable to earn back the trust of the Righteous Man that he had squandered when he’d failed Sam.

“Let’s head back, I’m starving.” Dean said, scooping up their jackets and guns and handing Cas’ back to him before turning on his heel and heading back towards camp without a backwards glance.

Cas took a moment to steel himself before following.

Hope, he decided suddenly, was not something worth having. Not in this universe.

If you liked this, please consider buying me a coffee, or send me your own prompt.

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[rockabelle]

Everybody’s got to start somewhere, fic writers included. I support new writers, 100%! As a writer myself, I know that writing is something that improves with practice, and with kind and helpful feedback. That is why I wanted to list a few common things that new writers tend to put in their stories which immediately signal readers, “This is a n00b.”

--Either a huge block of text or just very large paragraphs. Makes the story very hard to read! The human eye is lazy and drawn to white space. Give it a break.

--Spaces between every single line. Too much white, now.

--Frequent sentence fragments or very short sentences. It’s fine. For awhile. But crap! It gets annoying. Doesn’t it? Yeah. It really does.

--Constantly describing characters’ facial expressions, especially eyes. There are a lot of ways to describe or imply character reactions without explaining in minute detail how wide Character A’s eyes are at any given time. Let your readers’ imaginations fill in some of the blanks.

--Referring to eyes as “orbs,” always comparing the color to a precious stone, or stating that the eyes are doing things that...uh...eyes don’t do. Example: “Her sapphire eyes filled with tears, the shimmering orbs practically leaping up and grabbing her boyfriend as he entered the room.” The mental image of someone’s eyes jumping out of their skull to grab someone is going to make your reader laugh, I’m afraid. Adding “practically” does not make the thought any less ridiculous.

--Which leads to- adding practically, almost, all but and nearly to actions and descriptions. Example: “Yes,” he practically moaned. His lover nearly whimpered at the sound. The man all but ran back to him.” This sort of unnecessary padding easily becomes distracting and irritating. In most situations, it can simply be removed and the meaning will remain. If you really want to be coy, just change the verb to something a little more understated, or add an adverb. Like: “Yes,” he moaned. His lover stifled a whimper at the sound. The man moved quickly back to him.”

--Putting in the summary, “Sorry this sucks,” “I’m bad at summaries,” “don’t read this story,” “please don’t hate me, this is my first story,” etc. You are predisposing the readers to think your story is bad. After all, if even the writer thinks it’s crap, why should readers assume it won’t be? Let them read it and decide for themselves without negative bias. Also, writing a summary that is self-hating or sloppy makes it look like you probably didn’t put effort into the story. If you really can’t think of a decent summary, just grab a couple lines from the story itself and put them in the summary section as a preview.

--Putting random author notes in the story. Example: “Reaching for the treasure, Mary suddenly cried out in pain. (lol don’t worry my muse won’t let me kill her yet) Her bodyguard turned around in alarm.” Wow, talk about interrupting the flow of the story! Have you ever tried to watch a movie with someone talking over it? Yeah, that’s what you’re doing to your readers.

--Poor spelling and grammar. A little of this is probably inevitable. Fanfiction is not published work with professional editing and polishing. Mistakes will happen. Getting a beta to help is always a good idea, if you can. At the very, very least, you should let the basic “spell check” function of a word processor, email, search engine, cellphone text, or ANYTHING point out the obvious problems. Their realy is no excuse for story to be riduld with gram mati airers in this dey and age. Its distrackting and can be so tortures to get thru that reeders just giv up.

--Using italics every other word. Also, using caps or bold ALL OVER THE PLACE. Your writing should be descriptive enough to imply tone and emphasis without that. Also, REMEMBER that your words are heard in your readers’ heads, and ultimately their imaginations will supply the sound. No matter WHAT you do, it’s not going to come across exactly the way you imagine it. That’s okay! Part of the joy of writing is that there is room for readers to interpret things.

--Using pronouns all the time and confusing readers. Example: “He clenched his teeth. His friend reached for him, his hand shaking. He slapped his hand down. After a breath, he said, “Why are you doing this?” Closing his eyes, a tear dripped down his cheek.” Can you tell who is doing what in this scenario?? Just because you know, as the author, doesn’t mean your readers know. Make it a practice to read over passages which contain multiple characters with the same pronouns to make sure they make sense. It’s okay to repeat people’s names, sometimes. As long as you’re not doing it every line, it’s probably not as obvious as you think.

--Trying to avoid the word “said” or using said all the time. Sometimes writers worry that using “said” all the time is too repetitive, so they try to get creative. Example: “Where are you going?” she inquired. “I’m going to the store,” he stated. “I went to the store yesterday,” she reminded him. “Oh, is that so?” He mentioned. “Yes, it is,” she intoned. See the problem? “Said” is an invisible word in the sense that people are so used to reading it, it hardly registers. You can get away with using it much more than other, similar verbs. At the same time, you don’t need to use it every line! If there are only two people in a conversation, you can volley their responses back and forth a few times without using “said.” Just don’t do that for so long the reader gets lost. You can also have dialogue next to descriptions of character actions. Like: “Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to the store.” He rolled his eyes.

It’s clear that the man said the second sentence, even without “said!”

--Related: applying an incorrect action to speaking. Example: “Oh, is that so?” he glared. The problem is that you don’t “glare” words. The correct way to write this would be something like “Oh, is that so?” he said, glaring/with a glare, or “Oh, is that so?” He glared. See, the dialogue and the action are in separate sentences.

--Randomly switching tenses. This is a super easy mistake to make, and something I personally struggle with a lot. Word’s spell check can help point this out, or a beta. I definitely advise keeping an eye out for this during your re-reads. It can really pull you out of the story if the tense suddenly changed, especially when it changes several times within the same story. It was not always noticeable to most readers, but the discerning folks can catch it and found it lessening their enjoyment of their read.

Anyway, those are just a few tips for things to avoid! Most of these are not hard and fast rules. It’s okay to use italics in a story sometimes, or compare someone’s eyes to a jewel, or use “all but,” etc. It’s just when you do it frequently that it becomes a problem.

Feel free to add your own tips to this post!

#fanfiction #writing #writing tips #poor writing #fanfic