like real people do | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same. 

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

based off hozier’s song ‘like real people do’

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Ok ok so I feel like its more commonly assumed that Phichit was probably pining for Yuuri for a while first before he had to be blatantly obvious that he had a big ole crush on Yuuri, but what if it was the other way around? Imagine if Phichit was the first person Yuuri found that he was really attracted to, and when he realized that, it hit him like a ton of bricks. 

He would try to play it cool and act normal, but start freaking out more than usual. Phichit is a naturally touchy person, even in the most platonic ways, but now every time he’s touched Yuuri jumps like he’s received an electric shock. When they’d have movie nights, they used to share a blanket and when Phichit offers, Yuuri scoots his ass as far away as he can on the couch. 

And Phichit’s like “What the hell man you’ve been acting weird all week…Yuuri did I do something wrong?”

“Nonono it’s not you I promise.”

“Well then what is it? And don’t say nothing because I can tell when something is bugging you.”

Yuuri clutches his elbows and doesn’t meet Phichit’s eyes.



“Yuuri, don’t make me make you tell me,” he says with a devilish smirk. Phichit crawls towards Yuuri and pounces on him, tickling his sides. They crash to the ground with Yuuri laughing and gasping for air. 

They end up with Phichit sitting on top of Yuuri and pinning him to the floor. He bends down to whisper in Yuuri’s ear. “I’ll stop when you tell mee~.” Before he can lean back, Yuuri turns his head and captures Phichit’s lips in a quick kiss. 

Yuuri slaps a hand over his mouth as his face reddens. “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-” He covers his entire face with both arms.

He feels Phichit’s fingers gently trying to peel his arms apart. “Yuuri,” he says softly, “Yuuri please come out..” He mumbles out a no, that he’s staying like this for forever, before feeling the soft press of lips to the skin of his forearm.

He peeks through the crack of his arms to find the worried gaze of Phichit above him, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. “Is this why you were acting odd? You… like me?” Yuuri manages a little nod. 

“Well, that kiss was a little sloppy. If you come out of there, we can try again, if you want.”

Yuuri slowly lets his arms fall to the side and pushes himself up on his elbows so his nose is a few inches from Phichit’s. “You… aren’t mad?”

Phichit lets out a breathy chuckle. “Oh Yuuri, why would I be mad? Especially when you look so cute like this?”

Yuuri felt his cheeks flush again, and leaned forward to kiss Phichit once more.

002: She is of Crimson Petals

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: angst, gore + vampire / hanahaki au

warnings: mentions of blood, death, and murder

word count: 1,559

description: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. + “It reminded me of you.”

note: Yeah, I don’t know why I decided to write this genre mash-up either lol

request: hanahaki au from taehyung’s pov 

Taehyung had seen enough red in his lifetime to fill the Mississippi, the bloody current carrying the endless stream of bodies down the river of his past. They drifted in mangled pieces of splintered limbs and tattered flesh, the water unable to submerge the vast quantity of his discretions. His years of ripping and raging proved to be too much for the great river, even in the metaphorical confinements of his head it seemed. They littered the washed up crevices of his mind, tainting the cerulean memories that reminded him of the few good moments of his last two-hundred and eighty-seven years.

Of course, Taehyung had never been one for remorse in these types of situations. Once he was turned, his conscious took a backseat, so much so that he couldn’t even remember the disposition he’d wielded as a human. He imagined that he must’ve been the same cold-hearted, apathetic, monster that he was today. To him body count was a number on a similar wavelength to temperature, throw-away information that was constantly changing, just in Taehyung’s case it was only moving in the upward direction. His killings may have slowed since that first century or so thanks to a certain friend, but relapses were inevitable. Every couple of decades he found himself once again being consumed by the insatiable lust of his instincts, the water dragging him down the river, his bodies in tow.

That was just who Taehyung was; a killer.

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There is a garden and we are still digging it up.

We peel apart the veins of flora just to get a closer look at what makes everything hurt so goddamn much. We press our fingers down sharp on every bruise and call it love and art and poetry and the processing of emotion as it lends itself to healing.

And I say, it’s tender but isn’t it done? And you say, it’s tender but isn’t it over? And then we still write soliloquies about softening in each other’s mouths. I still ask you to put your hands on me without washing off any of the dirt.

And you say, baby. And you say, honey. And you say, don’t you love the way the trees sing when the cicadas are out? 

And I am in the garden. And all the trees are humming.
—  AFTER CRUELTY by Trista Mateer

anonymous asked:

Porny prompt kinda: Hannibal is NOT into daddykink but Will is. Hannibal will put up with anything for Will. Hannibal has to research daddykink. Hannibal is a missionary vanilla kinda guy, he doesnt even really like binding your wrists in silk, he has no idea what Wills getting out of this but it isnt a turn OFF and he doesnt have to do it ALL the time. I like Hannibal to be long-suffering. tired Potato murder-dad is my kink

Hi! It’s hard for me to imagine Hannibal not into it, at least in the whys and hows of Will’s sexuality, especially from a performance sake. ;) But I gave it my best shot and this is first time writing this particular kink! Hope you like. 


The first time it happened was a mistake.

Hannibal was fucking him. Pounding him into their bed rough and hard– just the way Will needed – the way he begged for. He might’ve been crying. He tasted salt, his face was hot and sticky. His dick was trapped underneath him, rubbing against the mattress and he knew he could come like this, without even being touched.

Hannibal breathed warm against the nape of his neck.

“Will,” he said. “Will.”

“Please– fuck– daddy.”

The word slipped out before he could stop it. Hannibal paused, for a fraction of a second. Will tensed but then Hannibal’s hands were sliding over his belly, his scar. He pulled Will close, anchoring him to his own body.

There was no space between them, just an impossible fullness that felt like breaking. Hannibal fucked Will so deep, stars burst behind his eyelids. Will sobbed, choking the word out again and again as he came, “daddy – daddy.”  


After they peeled apart, sweaty and out of breath, Will buried his head in the pillow. His skin felt two sizes too small for the shame he carried. Everything in him was straining and tight.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you’d prefer not to,” Hannibal said gently. “We could never talk about it at all if you wish.”

“That wouldn’t be very fair to you,” Will said, muffled into the pillow. Then, he laughed, because he actually cared about being fair to Hannibal, even after all the blood and bodies that had come between them.

There was nothing to be done about that now. The story spilled out of him. He had never told anyone.

“When I was 18, I came home from college to visit my dad. It was Christmas break but he wasn’t there. Turns out he got a call to fix a house boat up north. Big money.”

“I am sorry you were alone,” Hannibal said.

“It was okay. I was used to it. My dad, he sent one of his friends over with a six-pack. We just started drinking. I got really drunk. And Mike–that was his name– he fucked me. First time I had sex. Bent over the old leather couch in our living room.”

Will could still remember the couch creaking with their weight, the faded leather rubbing against his knees. Mike told him he was perfect.

Hannibal traced a foreign shape on Will’s back.

Will peeped up at him from the pillow.

“It was pretty awkward really. I was so shy. And embarrassed. But he was – nice to me. He made me feel good. He – even tucked me into bed after.”

“Did your relationship continue?”

“No,” Will said. “Never happened again. Guess he was embarrassed, too.”

“It’s not unusual to fantasize about this sort of encounter,” Hannibal said. “We can explore it sometime. If you like.”

“Would you like it?”

“I would like to please you.”

Will rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I was asking and you know it.”

“For years I imagined our relationship as platonic. I thought some boundaries would never be breached.”

“And then I asked to fuck you.”

“There is nothing I am not willing to try with you.”

Will buried his head back into the pillow. “I don’t know.”

Yet something in him had given a traitorous lurch at Hannibal’s offer. He knew he wouldn’t deny himself.

Not with Hannibal.

Not anymore.


Hannibal made them dinner. Will sat out on the balcony – watching the throngs of people below buying zucchinis and tomatoes across Eleftherias Square.

When Hannibal called him inside to set the table, Will had to rub his eyes. He blinked several times. The pot on the stove was filled with risotto. There was no meat in it.  

“A vegetarian meal. Never thought I would see the day.”

Hannibal smiled at him. Will was suddenly struck by how normal he looked, still dapper and refined in his linen suit but less – less intense than Will had ever seen before. Hannibal was comfortable, Will realized.

“There’s lamb broth in the risotto,” Hannibal said, raising one eyebrow. “Maria wouldn’t let me walk away without buying some.”

Will laughed at that. “Of course she wouldn’t.”

They sat down to eat together. The risotto was delicious, it practically melted on Will’s tongue. It didn’t help his distraction.  

He had felt better after telling Hannibal about what happened to him when he was 18. He didn’t realize how much it would help him and now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Will pushed his food around aimlessly with the tips of his fork.

“The thing we talked about the other day,” Will said. He didn’t look up from his plate. “I’d like to try it. For real.”

“We should discuss your limits then,” Hannibal said, frustratingly nonchalant.

“You’ve researched this. Since we’ve talked.”

“I wanted to be prepared.”

“How Boy Scouts of you.”

“If you don’t behave, shall I punish you?”

Will blinked, then swallowed. “Yes.”

“Do you prefer ageplay?” Hannibal continued. “Or to be treated as you are?”

Will looked at Hannibal from under the dark sweep of his lashes, strangely nervous.


“Shall we begin tonight?”

Will’s heart fluttered. “Yes. Please.”

“My beautiful boy,” Hannibal said. The praise made his voice soft, as smooth as a caress on Will’s cheek. “Finish eating. Then I will take you to bed.”

Will closed his eyes for a long moment. “Thank you.”

anonymous asked:

If smol!Shiro had a nightmare, who's room would he be most likely to go to? <3

Honestly, it depends on whose room little Shiro finds first.

Keith is already awake.

Maybe it’s the sound of his door swishing open that wakes him. Maybe it’s the patter of little feet, quick-step panicked in the hall outside. Maybe it’s the hitched breath from the room next door, caught in a terrified throat. Maybe it’s a noise cut off before Keith even fully hears it.

Whatever the reason, Keith’s already awake. He sleeps facing the door, so he doesn’t shift more than a blink, asleep one second and fully awake the next.

“Shiro?” Keith asks.

The little figure in the doorway sniffles. Shiro’s clutching the blanket from his room in his one hand, tiny fingers worrying the fabric close to his mouth and muffling his words so badly Keith almost can’t make them out.

“‘cn I sleep with you?” is what Shiro whispers. The panel of lights around Keith’s bunk just illuminate the wet tear tracks on Shiro’s little cheeks.

“Of course you can,” Keith says, softly, and rolls over to make room.

The barest whisper of “Lance?” from the doorway wakes Lance immediately. It takes a second for the shadow in his room to clarify through a sleep-fogged brain: Shiro, blanket gripped in his hand and to his mouth like it’s a lifeline. Easily three-quarters of the enormous blanket drag on the floor behind him. Like Shiro’s pajamas, it’s too big.

Shiro hiccups, stuttering. He’s shaking, little shadow quivering against the floor. “I - I’m - ”

“Come sit with me, chico,” Lance offers gently, and peels back his own blankets so Shiro can clamber in.

“Bad dream?” is what Hunk asks when Shiro finally wakes him, tugging again and again on his pajama sleeve until Hunk snores himself awake. Hunk’s a little harder to wake than the other Paladins, maybe: a fact he’s aware of, and something that’s never truly bothered him until just now.

Shiro nods, sniffling. He’s trembling, mostly visible in his shoulders and in the blanket clung tightly to his chest, covering his little mouth. Even so he’s absolutely dwarfed by all the fabric; how he got all the way from his room to here without tripping over the comforter is nothing short of a minor miracle.

“C’mhere,” Hunk says, quietly, and sits all the way up to pull Shiro right into his arms, blanket and all. “You can stay with me tonight.”

Consider, though: if this is a time where Shiro still doesn’t know where everything in the Castle is, a time when he’s awake and alone and too scared to try new doors. His little feet might carry him somewhere he’s already been, somewhere he does know, padding out into the hall with the blanket his only witness as it trails behind.

Pidge is sound asleep at her workstation, glasses askew, computer blinking coded text. Shiro doesn’t care about what the computer’s saying, or the project peeled apart on her desk. He just drags his massive blanket up into her lap and curls up with her. The blanket tumbles down over their feet, bulky and warm. Pidge mumbles something, maybe, and curls around him just as easily. She doesn’t wake. Shiro snuggles in, too, and slowly but surely calms down.

Coran finds them there the next morning.

All of this, of course, is assuming none of them hear Shiro and his nightmare first.

Love-Hate (Yugyeom)

request:  Hi can i please have a smut scenario for yugyeom of got7, where you both don’t like eachother and you visit their dorm room and things escalate (cuz I mean them thighs how can you not.) and the other members hear and tease afterwards…. I know this is wordy sorry 😅

genre: smut

author’s note: i suck at posting i know :(((( hopefully this yugyeom smut will be good for you pervy people ;) i hope you all like it

**nsfw under the cut! also, i got a bit carried away and made it super long??

warnings: dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (female receiving), more stuff i’m leaving out

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Friday Night Yikes


pairing: hamilsquad x reader

word count: 2400

warnings: swearing, period talk!

summary: game night wasn’t quite going as planned.

a/n: for all you lovely people who may be going through that time of the month, this is for you (and me bc i had cramps all day n im suffering) enjoy

Friday was game night and movie night.

“Yo, Alex, where’d you put the Coke?” John Laurens called, his head stuck inside of the fridge.

“In the drawers with the vegetables,” Alexander Hamilton, who was finishing up an essay, answered from his bedroom.

John looked at you, perched on the countertop, and rolled his eyes. You laughed and swung your legs back and forth, leaning your head back against the cabinet.

You had become friends with the boys your first year of university, although you didn’t quite see them as much as you liked due to your course load. You were taking five classes and spent every minute living in a state of constant stress and worry. You were at school from 9 to 6 every single day, with only a half an hour break at lunch, and when you got home you were either revising, writing essays, or sleeping. The guys tried to get you to go out with them, but you were always too busy. This was upsetting for every party in the situation, but especially you, because you just wished you hadn’t taken so many courses from the beginning. If you hadn’t, you would be able to spend time with people who made you feel genuinely happy and free. Finally, right after your finals in your second year, you had a breakdown (that Hercules Mulligan had to sop up your tears during) and decided that you would take two less classes your third year. By the time September rolled around, you were a lot less stressed. And yes, you still had a lot of work to do, but at least now you could spend some amount of time every week dedicated to your boys. Friday was the day that worked best for everyone. So Friday became your date night.

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it splinters softly. not a supernova, you could’ve handled an explosion. just this: shifting eyes, shifting hearts. you never pay attention in geography but you know about continental drift, and this is it. countries falling away, peeling apart.
when the silence weighs too heavy in your bones, you find him and search his eyes like a map that once led to you. you want to say ‘is this what pangaea felt like?’ but what comes out instead is ‘did you know the moon moves away from the earth at 3.78 centimeters per year?’ you’re not sure what you expect, maybe 'so who am i, earth or moon’, and you’d say 'earth, of course, i’m moving but i can’t ever break away from you’, but he looks at you like he’s forgotten the past ten years.
later, he apologizes, a string of platitudes that aren’t enough and never will be. your hands are still empty, your heart even emptier. as you walk away, you think about continental drift and how the countries still stand, even separated. you wonder if europe and africa were ever best friends and that’s what they felt, like ripping out their lungs from their ribcages and still trying to breathe.
—  victims of continental drift | a.c. | check out my chapbook unmythologize!

anonymous asked:

can i has more cr sense8 au percy pls? (if your up for it of course)


“I’m still not certain we should be doing this.“

It was a meaningless statement even before he said it. With her arm in his, with the warmth of her against his side and the tinkle of her laugh fading in the air, Percy thought he would trust Vex to lead him down any icy path through the woods, with any blindfold on or off, even if he had never known her more intimately than he knew himself. Even if they had just met, somehow, one day, and she had smiled and beckoned, he would have followed.

Exaggerated gagging noises broke into his thoughts—Vax, visiting as almost always, making Vex laugh in the cold Northern darkness. The drugs all but gone from his veins, Percy could feel him again, that knife’s edge of sarcasm prickling over devotion deep enough to fill the sea.

Two (one? three?) months of isolation was turning him poetic. It was horrifying.

“It’ll be fine,” said Vex, tugging him forward. “Turn right—”

Percy followed her instructions obediently. “I don’t know where you get the confidence that she won’t be looking, just this one night. It’s not like the holidays have stopped them before.”

“Because she’s loony, Freddie,” Vax said with overwhelming fondness.

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anonymous asked:

I'm attempting to write a childrens book but I am struggling so much with trying to figure out what the overall problem should be. My characters will be defeating something but I'm not sure what (perhaps some kind of monster) or why. Do you have any suggestions?


The wonderful thing about children’s books is that they can be splendidly simple or spendidly complex – the conflict can be as simple as a monster under the kid’s bed or as complicated as a monster trying to destroy the tri-state area. Take, for instance, the Percy Jackson series – it’s meant for a younger audience, but it also deals with an ancient force of evil trying to return to power. That said, a kids’ book doesn’t necessarily have to be limited to certain subject matter, as long as it follows these base guidelines:

1. Simplified descriptions and language.
Still describe – just streamline it, and only insert the most important/relevant details. Kids don’t want to read huge paragraphs.

2. Don’t be too descriptive about any violence in your story.
When he shoots a character in the head, Stephen King always describes how the brains fly out and hit the wall behind the dead character, and how the skull peels apart like an orange, etc etc. Needless to say, this level of description wouldn’t be appropriate for a children’s book. If someone’s arm almost gets cut off, don’t describe how it’s hanging by a single tendon and the blood is running like Niagara Falls and the person is screaming fit to burst your eardrums – just say “He clapped a hand to his arm. Blood ran through his fingers and he screamed.”

3. Make sure you have some comic relief – even create an entire character for it, if need be.
Again, take the Percy Jackson series – all characters have funny dialogue, but Grover by far has the most funny lines/actions. I personally believe (in other words, Rick Riordan has never said this as far as I know, so don’t quote me) that Grover was created largely with comic relief in mind – however, he also has a purpose in the plotline (for example, his kidnapping drives the entire plot of one of the five books, and that plot drives the bigger, overall plot of trying to defeat Kronos). So make sure your comic relief characters also have practical purposes.

Also, some common tropes for children’s books are monsters (be creative when creating them), animals, bedtime (dreams), morals (what is good behavior/what is bad behavior). If you want your kids fighting a monster, you could have them doing it so they’re not afraid anymore, or because the monster is an actual threat (although you’d have to come up with a reason why only the kids can defeat it).

I hope this helps! If you need anything else, please feel free to ask! - @authors-haven

Black Out (Part 1)

Eric X Reader 

Request: @divergent–fandom : Reader is an Erudite transfer, who has done well in initiation so far. They have a crush on Eric, one of Dauntless’ leaders. One night, the two get black out drunk, hook up, and must face the realities in the morning.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking

Tags: @everydayrandomlife, @brandinicole911, @guiltyissues, @mogaruke

I was always smart; I mean you kind of have to be when Erudite forces you to study almost constantly. But even with my nose in a book, I always made time to watch the Dauntless jump off the train in the morning, wondering what it must be like to have the wind rustle your hair as you launch yourself out of a moving vehicle. The thrill is what convinced me to hold my hand over the dauntless bowl, and hear the coals sizzle as my blood drips onto them.

We are halfway through initiation, and I’m doing well if I don’t say so myself. I’m ranked third, and kicking ass every day. The only thing that has me hung up is the strong, brave and honestly kind of scary leader, Eric. I remember seeing him in Erudite when I was a kid. He was always silent and kind of broody, but that never deterred me from having a crush on him. Now that I’m here, seeing him again, my crush has come back tenfold.

Four and Eric put us through the ringer every single day; but today, they seemed to be extra harsh, so when Four announced there was a party we were allowed attend, I couldn’t have been more excited.

The roar of the chasm wasn’t loud enough to drown out the voices and the music of the evening. Empty drink in hand, I make my way over to the bar. “Hi, can ummm, have another please?” The bartender looks at me incredulously.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He laughs, turning around to serve the next person. Angrily I grab a random bottle from behind the counter and turn to run.

Keeping my eyes on the bartender to make sure he didn’t see me, I ram right into some, sending the bottle to the floor. Lifting my heavy head, my eyes meet the striking blue ones I know so well. “sorrrryy.” I slur with a giggle on the end.

He says nothing as he grabs my upper arm and drags me across the room to a hallway off the main room. The hallway is dark and deserted. He lets go of my arm, and I lean against the cool stone wall. “What do you think you’re doing?” He demands. He large arms cross, causing his forearm muscles to look even bigger and stronger. His presence intoxicates me even more.

“Havin’ a drink, lettin’ loose.” I shrug, trying to show him how unaffected I am by him.

“Is that so (Y/N)?” he places his hands on both sides of my head, while leaning down to whisper in my ear. His hot breath tickles my neck, as the smell of his cologne mix with the whisky on his breath, sends shivers down my spine.

“Ye… yes” I stutter, completely overwhelmed by him.

“You know, I could show you a really good time.” Eric smirks as he begins kissing my neck.

Lost in the overwhelming sensation of his burning lips on my neck, I moan. Eric’s hand covers my mouth, as he whispers in my ear. “Shhh, love. We wouldn’t want someone to find us, now would we?” I shake my head my no, silently begging him to continue.  

His hand snakes down my throat, curving around my body, it finds its way to my hand. With a gentle tug, he leads me to what I assume is his apartment. He fumbles as he unlocks his door. I look around the hall of apartments, impressed by how much better it looks than where the initiates are staying.

The pitch-black apartment becomes dimly light as Eric switches on a lamp. He wastes no time by giving me a tour as he begins to unbutton my shirt. With his mouth on my neck, my shirt is soon on the floor. hastily he takes of his, followed by his pants.

Suddenly his large arms lift me off the ground, and he tosses me over his shoulder. His hand comes down sharply on my ass, causing me to squeal. I brace myself as he tosses me onto his bed. Expecting a firm mattress, I am surprised as I feel as though I’ve landed on a cloud.

My head is pounding as my eyes slowly peel apart. Wincing at the onslaught of light, I move to roll over, only to find strong arms holding me in place. Very slowly, I move to see a slumbering Eric next to me. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, is all I think as I carefully climb out from under his embrace.

I put on my clothing piece by piece as I follow the trail they make from the bed to the door. I feel like throwing up as I look around Eric’s apartment. It’s very minimal, only the essentials, you would almost think no one lives here if it weren’t for the one mug in the sink.

Turning the cold metal nob, I wince as the door creaks. I slip out, not hearing Eric get up. Jogging down the hall, out of sight of his door. I take a second to breath. Letting my back hit the cool concrete wall, I slid down, head in my hands. What have I done?  


she opens her sun-belly up & bares her fangs
come children, feast
the sticky tacky blood, the pulsing heart
& the way her diaphragm contracts as
she breathes, like something holy
has touched her (the way it all
falls away so easily. holiness, that
is. it peels apart and abandons you
like shed skin)
come children and swallow my organs
i am the rain caught in the light
graveyard water for a hangover

she smiles like her bones might break
like a heretic falling off a cliff
come children, i am the blood in your hands
& in your veins


(also on ao3)


Levi sneers at the bowl Kenny sets before him. “This looks so bad it’s already giving me the shits.”

“Listen hear, you little cuss, you said you were hungry so I made you dinner.” It’s only defrosted and reheated leftovers of some questionable casserole the old lady downstairs made Kenny nearly a year ago, but still. It’s something. “And it looks just fine,” Kenny grumbles.

“If I eat it, I’ll probably die. Do you want to kill me?”

“Getting close.”

“…Mom would have at least made it look good.”

“Well, I’m not your ma.”

“Yeah, you’re a pile of shit, just like this food.”

“If you’re not gonna eat it, I’ll just pitch it.”

Kenny reaches out to take the bowl back. Levi makes an indignant noise and pulls the bowl closer, dips his spoon it, and shoves some of it into his mouth. He chews with a scowl on his face, staring at Kenny the whole time. He swallows loudly when he’s done.

“I’ve been poisoned,” he says before taking another bite.

Kenny snorts. Kids. He grabs a beer from the fridge and sits in the chair on the other side of the table, cracks the can open and takes a long swallow.

Out of all the jobs Kenny’s had over the years, he never thought babysitter would be one of them. There’s no one else to watch Levi, though. The dad has been M.I.A since he knocked Kuchel up. Fucking deadbeat. Kuchel herself works three jobs and is barely home. Kenny gives her credit for lasting so long on her own. She only came to him for help a few months ago, face tired, eyes desperate. And Kenny had caved. He may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole that loves his little sister.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Kenny looks at Levi. Despite his complaints he’s already nearly done. “I’m having a sandwich in a can,” he answers.

Levi furrows his brows and frowns. “They make those?”

“Sure do.” Kenny holds up his beer and takes a sip.

“Is that all you ever have? No wonder your bathroom smells like acid after you piss.”

“You have a foul mouth for a seven year old, you know that?”

Levi shrugs, goes back to eating. Kenny drinks more beer. When Levi is done he hops off of his chair and drags it to the sink, then he climbs back up with his dishes and washes them. Levi’s just finished putting them away when the click of the doorknob turning signals the arrival of Kuchel. It’s the most excited Kenny’s seen Levi look all night  - he scampers quickly out of the kitchen yelling “Mom!” with a smile on his face - and Kenny would be lying if he said it didn’t sting a little.

He finishes off his drink and stands, follows Levi to the door and watches as Kuchel squeezes him in a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses until he starts to squirm in embarrassment.

“How was he?” Kuchel asks when Kenny walks up.

“Fine. He knows some…colorful words.”

“Course he does, he hangs out with you all the time. You swear worse than a sailor.”

“Bull fucking shit.”

Kuchel gives him an exasperated look.

“Okay, so you might have a point.”

She rolls her eyes. “Go get your stuff, baby,” she says to Levi, who nods and goes over to the small coffee table in front of the couch to start packing away his things. “You’re still okay to pick him up from school tomorrow, right?”


“Thank you.”

Kenny hums. “You should take off once in awhile. He misses you.”

“I miss him, too,” she says as she watches Levi neatly place his notebooks in his backpack one by one, “but I’m doing this for him. I want him to do better than us, Kenny.”

Kenny glances around at his sad excuse for an apartment - the peeling wallpaper, the worn-away carpet, the yellowing curtains, the window he fixed with duct-tape after a branch came through it last winter.

“Suppose the brat deserves it.”

“I’m ready,” Levi says, padding back into the room as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. He grabs Kuchel’s hand, then looks up at Kenny. “See you tomorrow, you big shit.”

“See you tomorrow, you little shit.”

“You two,” Kuchel sighs, but she has a small smile on her face.

[Don’t Wanna Cry Series] Joshua ver.

 Prompt: Don’t wanna cry - Joshua 
Genre: Angst
Word count: 666
Warnings: None

A/N: Hi guys! So i got inspired by their MV to write a Don’t Wanna Cry Series. It’s gonna be just really short drabbles and it’s also gonna be emo but I hope you guys enjoy it! Here is Joshua’s drabble! Oh! And I will be putting in lyrics from the song at the end of the drabble! Also posted this on Seventeen’s 2nd anniversary, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BOYS! 💕

-jihooned 😶

Originally posted by visual-17

“Why didn’t you say anything? That man was clearly in the wrong!”

“I’m sorry, (y/n), it’s just that I thought it was okay to let the matter go.”

“Oh my gosh this isn’t the first time, seriously you got to be more vocal and stand up for yourself.”

Joshua sighed, it was very unlike you to blow up.

“Joshua, if you’re going to be this quiet, people will take advantage of you. I care for you and I wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“Hey (y/n), I really didn’t mean to, you know how shy I can be.”

“You know what, if I can’t make you a better person, then find someone else who can. I’ve had enough of always having to stand up on your behalf.”

 And the only thing Joshua was left with was the bracelet he bought for your two year anniversary and the image of you walking away engraved in his mind.

Keep reading

Ghost - Final Part - Jungkook angst

Originally posted by jjks

This is it, lovelies! I’m so sad to end this, I kinda really loved Jungkook’s character in this series ): Either way, here you go, and I’m sorry for everything <3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Final Part


It had been several months since you woke up, and Jungkook found that these months were possibly the best in his life. BTS were only gaining more and more popularity, winning countless awards teenage-Jungkook would have salivated over the mere sight of. The bonds between all the members were stronger than ever, and Jungkook’s friendship with you was only flourishing.

Since he had spent such a long time without you, he wasn’t going to waste any other time he could spend with you. He was not going to take you for granted anymore, and he’d be damned if he let anything get in the way of you two.

A loud burst of laughter woke Jungkook up, uncomfortably early on a Wednesday morning. His eyes peeled apart and he lolled his head over to one side to see Namjoon’s bed vacated; it was generally unusual for the leader to be up before Jungkook, so Jungkook wasted no time before clambering out of bed and pulling on whatever T-shirt he could find that didn’t stink of sweat. Unsure of whether or not the T-shirt even belonged to him, Jungkook padded out of the bedroom-

Only to be met with a spray of water to the face.

Coughing and spluttering, Jungkook wiped his eyes quickly and blinked around to see you, Hoseok and even Yoongi hunched over, cackling at the maknae’s befuddled expression. Jungkook couldn’t even move, too overwhelmed with shock from the sight of the two elder hyungs condoning your childish behaviour, and his jaw could have dislocated from the rest of his skull at the sight of the water gun held loosely in Yoongi’s hand.

He wasn’t able to gather his thoughts before he received another blast of water, courtesy of your water gun that was held in your dominant hand, and you burst into laughter again, turning and sprinting away down the hall from Jungkook’s grabby hands.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, half in annoyance and half in amusement at the volume of the borderline ugly laughter you were releasing. Hoseok was hot on your heels, the two of you thundering down the hall and out the front door that Jungkook saw was already propped open with one of the dining chairs. Cocking his head, Jungkook wasn’t far behind the two of you, aiming to disarm you of your plastic weapon and exact his revenge on you.

Yoongi wasn’t long behind Jungkook, and the youngests confusion only heightened as all four of your ran out into the lobby of the building and out the front door. You yelled, screaming at the temperature of the water that hit your back as Hoseok shot at you, and your legs sped up as you sprinted down the four steps, turning the corner and aiming down the street.

Jungkook was reluctant to follow, concerned with anybody seeing, but Hoseok and Yoongi were uncaring and merely followed you, shooting at each other. Jungkook shrugged and sprinted after the three of you, following the sounds of your laughter and screams. Eventually, you all rounded the corner and Jungkook could have dropped dead at the sight of Namjoon pinning Jimin down to the floor whilst Jin sprayed a never ending flow of water into his face.

Tae was gigging at the trio, half-heartedly trying to rescue his best friend from his hyungs grip.

“Hyung!” his voice was high pitched and whiny, and he yelled in fright when you launched yourself at his back, causing him to lose his balance and sent the two of you sailing to the ground. Tae received a face full of water from your gun and he spluttered before bringing up his own and shooting your straight into your open mouth as you peeled your lips apart to yell a war cry.

As you coughed the water back up, Jimin was able to free himself from his hostage situation and scampered over to Jungkook’s side, hiding himself behind Jungkook and using the younger as a human shield. Immediately, Jungkook was drenched in the water from three different water guns and he froze as the cool temperature soaked through his clothes and settled into his bones.

Without missing a beat, he yanked the gun from Jimin’s hands and aimed it at Namjoon and Jin who were close enough together that he was able to shoot them both at the same time. They yelled, and Jungkook switched his target to Yoongi who was trying his best to remain inconspicuous towards the back of the car park. Enraged at his sudden wet-cat state, Yoongi released a cry and started sprinting towards Jungkook, who yelled in return and took off in the other direction. Hoseok sprinted after you, and Seokjin and Namjoon were both trying to hold off Taehyung and Jimin.

The entire car park, despite it being a relatively frigid day in the middle of October, was drenched in water and filled with the childish screams of the adults who were scarcely dressed and running around after each other.

Even though it was a rather disruptive way to start the day, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle into his heart as they all traipsed back into the dorm, shivering and moving quickly to find dry clothes and defrost their chilly toes. Your hand was wrapped firmly in his, and he had a huge goofy grin on his face.

His stress levels were alleviated, and he knew that his hyungs stress was pushed back down too.

“Was this your idea?” he murmured to you, chucking one of his clean T-shirts at your face and a pair of shorts.

“Might have been. What of it?”

Jungkook merely hummed in response, not sure how he should word his gratitude. It was clear that all of them needed some time to relax and act like children, to put a break in their working, and he knew that you knew that. His heart was swelling in further adoration for you and all you did for their happiness.

You were too good for him.


It was later that evening and all members including you, were gathered in the living room around the TV, bickering about what film to watch.

Jungkook watched as Hoseok and Jimin were squatted on the floor, shoving each other playfully as they called for a vote on what film they should watch, having narrowed it down to their two options. Hoseok crowed in victory as his film was selected and he childishly stuck his tongue out at Jimin who was pouting on the floor.

Namjoon chuckled, ruffling Jimin’s hair as he moved past him, placing the huge bowl of popcorn on the table in the centre of the room.

“Oh God, not this one again.” you moaned, flopping backwards onto Yoongi’s shoulder dramatically.

“No complaining, majority rules!” Hobi yelled, leaping and cramming himself on the sofa between you and Jungkook. He wiggled in further to make himself comfortable and whilst Jungkook laughed at the elders excitement, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the twinge of annoyance in his chest.

He was quick to quash it down, however, at the sound of your laughter as you watched Jimin shove Jin, who was crouched down to place the DVD in the DVD player. The younger was quick to scuttle away as Jin was sprawled on the floor in a heap, placing his butt on the floor at Yoongi’s feet so he could lean against the elders legs. Jin could only mutter incomprehensible gibberish in anger, before he laughed at the innocent look on Jimin’s face and shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face in exasperation.

Namjoon laughed, coming to cram himself on the sofa too, on the other side of Jungkook. It was a tight fit, almost uncomfortably so, and Jungkook couldn’t help but stick his tongue inside his cheek and bite his lip lightly as he watched Yoongi reach up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

Almost immediately, you pulled the hair back into your face and laughed at the pouty expression on Yoongi’s face, but Jungkook felt both pleased and concerned. He knew that the scar that stretched part-way down your forehead was still a source of self consciousness, but he loved it. He loved that it told a story of how much both you and he had been through. It was something special to him, even with the sadness and grief that was behind it.

“Hurry up, hyung!” Taehyung moaned, head lolling backwards as Jin took his sweet time to start the film. The elder straightened out and turned to see no seats available, cursing loudly again as he was resigned to sit on the floor.

“You kids are going to be the death of me!”

“Good-” Yoongi started to joke before he was cut off by you.

“You know we love you, Seokjin! Do you want to sit in my seat?”

Immediately, Jin protested but he ultimately lost when you stood up and shoved him down into your previously owned seat. Jungkook watched your form snake down to the floor and curl up slightly, and his heart swelled at the sight of your endless kindness.

He didn’t even have to think about it before he too slid off the sofa and onto the floor next to you, and he couldn’t bare to think about it as you smiled widely at him, tugging his arm so it was wrapped over your shoulders and you were cuddled into his side.

He could barely breathe through the beginning of the film in the fear of disrupting your enraptured state, but eventually his muscles relaxed and he even pulled you further into him. You snuggled your face into his chest slightly, resting your arm across his stomach, and Jungkook swore that his heart exploded, shattered, ruptured all at once.

Perhaps his infatuation with your was beginning to become unhealthy. Maybe he had a heart condition? That would be the only logical explanation as to why he felt like he was about to die.

You stayed right there, glued to his side, for the entirety of the rest of the film, even all the way past when your legs went numb from the hard floor. You didn’t really feel like moving, enjoying the warmth that he gave out. You weren’t entirely hating the way that his heartbeat would thrum erratically whenever you shifted even a few centimetres.

Yet another month passed in a similar fashion. Often, you would spring random surprises on all of the boys which would force them to let loose and relax slightly. He admired it, really, the way you exploited their competitive nature in order to have fun, but it wasn’t fun for him when he lost and had to do the dishes every day for the next week. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay mad at you for long when you insisted on helping him do the dishes, and apologised in the form of lamb skewers and as many spicy noodles as your arms could carry to the dorm every single time.

Or he was in love with you and couldn’t stay angry because he found you utterly precious. It’s all relative.

However, Jungkook’s bliss was frustratingly short-lived, again. It was a Thursday evening and you came bounding into the dorm, eyes bright and hair wild around your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the warmth outside, showing that you had been running to the dorm, and Jungkook could have sang in joy at the sight of you.

He was quick to sober up at the news that poured from your lips.

“I have a date tonight!”

He couldn’t believe it. Well, he could - you were absolutely flawless in his eyes - but there was a small, selfish part of him that was hoping you would wait for him. There was an even bigger part of him that wanted you to return his feelings, and confess to him first because he sure as hell did not have to balls to confess to you.

“I met him at work, and he’s so nice, really, he is! He made dinner reservations at eight and I have no idea what to wear, oh my God-”

Jungkook wanted you to stop talking. He wanted to shut you up somehow, preferably with his mouth, but he didn’t want to hear you gush about a guy that wasn’t him anymore. He wanted to turn his ears off completely, he wanted to be temporarily deaf, he wanted to kiss you, he wanted-

“That sounds great, Y/N, it really does,” Yoongi said, a mysterious tilt in his voice that Jungkook couldn’t even identify.. “And I don’t wanna ruin your moment, but I have to call Jungkook into the studio now and we’re gonna be a while, so…”

The request for you to leave was so subtle that there was no way you could have been able to tell that it was slightly acidic, slightly malicious. Thus, you left the dorms in the excited whirlwind of energy that you were when you had bounded through the door.

Jungkook was already drained of all the energy he may have had, and he turned in the direction of his room to sleep the rest of the day away, completely forgetting what Yoongi had said about the studio.

“Kid,” Yoongi called, and Jungkook froze where he was, expecting a scolding. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shrugged, not trusting his voice at that moment.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

It was those words that sent tears cascading down Jungkook’s face, shoulders already trembling. A hand lay on his back, and Jungkook was brought into a hug so firm and warm that his sobs erupted from his mouth before he could even try to quash them down.

Sometimes, being an idol sucked.


Exactly four days later, at around midday, Jungkook was headed down to his favourite café to pick up orders for himself, Namjoon and Yoongi. The three of them had spent hours in the studio, not necessarily working but being together. Of course lyrics had been scribbled down and Yoongi had even had to rush to draw some notes that he thought would make a nice melody when pulled together, the job of an idol never really stopping, but it was nice and relaxing.

Now, Jungkook was on his way to the café a little further away from the BigHit building than others he could have gone to, but this other café was one he had been visiting with you for as long as the two of you had been living in Seoul. It was lovely and cosy, and the mismatched mugs really added a lot of character to the place.

He pushed the door open, heart warming already at the familiar tinkling noise of the old fashioned bell and the smell of coffee beans that hit his nose. The café itself never seemed to have a busy patronage, and even whilst he deemed the place worthy of more success than the Starbucks chain, the very quiet chatting only interrupted by the coffee machine soothed his heart and his soul. He made his way over to the counter in an unhurried fashion, wanting to prolong his time there. Even if he wasn’t with you in your special café, he still enjoyed himself.

Until, of course, he saw you. He saw you sitting there, cosied up with that fucking coworker. He saw you in the café that he thought was special to the two of you, and you had brought him there. He saw you sitting in the chairs that you and Jungkook shared for years, dubbing it ‘Our Table.’ He saw you there, and the very sight of you was enough for Jungkook’s heart to break all over again.

Of course this happened. How natural. As if the hands of Fate herself had twisted his reality into her playtime, to do with him whatever She wanted. Jungkook gritted his teeth and almost couldn’t choke out the three orders to the patiently waiting barista, and his fingers shook as he handed over his card. Even though he knew you hadn’t noticed his presence, the back of his neck burnt as if you were staring at him.

He was itching to turn, desperate for you to make eye contact with him so you could see how bothered he was. How betrayed he felt. He didn’t though, and he collected his coffees swiftly, turning and beginning to make his way to the exit.

He couldn’t, of course. Fate tugged at another of his puppet strings and ensured his day was even worse.

“Jungkook!” you called out to him from across the room, and his hackles raised slightly at the increased risk of being recognised out in the open. His head snapped to yours, a fire burning in his eyes at the compilation of anger, betrayal and fear, and he glared at you so fiercely from where he was that he was even angrier at himself for making you shrink back, dropping your hand from where you had raised it to wave at him. He didn’t hang around to chat, turning away and leaving behind only his coat tails, whipped behind the shutting door.

The frigid Seoul air was a little colder on his walk home.


Jungkook was exhausted. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had smiled at the man that wasn’t him, laughing at something that Jungkook hadn’t said. His hands were gripping his pen far too tightly, but he didn’t loosen his grip at the way that you had even looked like you were wearing more makeup and that certainly wasn’t a dress he had ever seen.

Did you think you had to put more effort in for him? Did he not accept you for the perfect way you already were? Why did you feel the need to change?

Jungkook’s head was swimming with questions that he would never get the answer to, and eventually Seokjin had to pry the pen out of the sleeping boy’s hand and slide a pillow under his head.

Sighing from his position on the sofa, Yoongi wondered what the kid could have possibly done in a past life to deserve this emotional turmoil.

The next morning, Jungkook awoke with a stiff neck, no texts or calls from you, but with a fresh sense of objective; he would force himself to get over you, no matter how he did it, and that involved distancing himself.

You’d be fine with it, you had your new beau to keep you occupied in his absence (Jungkook wanted to choke at the thought.)

He changed your contact name to simply ‘Y/N’ and he deleted the messages from the previous day. He changed his lock screen from a picture of the two of you on one of your many fake Valentine’s Day dates to a particularly unflattering shot of Jimin, and he even clomped around his room, picking up any of the crap you had left there and putting it away.

He was serious about his new mission, and whilst he knew that it would take time and a lot of hurt, it was probably for the best. For the both of you.

For both of your benefits, he would become a ghost in your life just like you had in his.

It was on the fifth day that Jimin asked when you were coming round again, and the sixth day was when you called him for the first time. He didn’t answer, fearing that hearing your voice would make him long to see you even more, but you were relentless and called another few times after that. The sixteenth and seventeenth days were defined, just like all of the days before, by your endless amount of phone calls and pleading texts, voicemails that he never opened and promptly deleted.

Was he being too harsh…?

He shrugged, turning over in his bed to turn his phone off and place it back on his bedside table.

You would get the message, despite whether or not he sent you one.


Tears were streaming down your face and your knees were tucked up tightly to your chin. You could barely read the words on your phone screen, the pain in your chest almost becoming too much to bear with.

Not only had you just broken up with your colleague, but the other half of your soul wasn’t reaching out to help you.

Crying out again, you threw your phone onto your bed and screamed into your knees. Why was Jungkook being so stubborn?! What had you even done wrong? Why did you miss him like you’d miss oxygen after not breathing for three minutes? Why did everything feel so… Shit?

You sighed, hiccuping slightly, and pushed your hair out of your slightly sweaty face. The stupid boy; how were you supposed to tell him how you felt if he was ignoring you so absolutely?

Even the rest of Bangtan had opted to ignore your calls and texts, and you had never felt so isolated from your best friends. Had Jungkook told them to ignore you, to cut you out of their lives, or had they done this of their own volition?

Either way, you desperately needed to see your best friend, the man you finally realised you were so deep in love with that you felt like you were drowning. You needed to see him.

You had to see him.

Scrambling up, you grabbed your phone and house keys, forcing your feet into some shoes that you hadn’t bothered to undo the laces of earlier, and sprinted out of the door into the night like your very life depended on it. Perhaps it did.

One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right… The sound of shoes slapping against the concrete of the pavement echoed around you and you were almost winded, still sprinting as fast as you could towards the BigHit building. It felt like deja vu, but this time the need was tinted with more of a desperate longing.

Hurtling through reception, you barely registered the sight of the bleary eyed receptionist on a late shift, slamming your thumb onto the button to call an elevator. Tapping your foot impatiently, running from elevator shaft to elevator shaft to check which one was getting to you the fastest, your eyes strayed to the nearby door that led to the stairs. Goosebumps erupted across your flesh and you decided that waiting for the elevator would be the best option. You didn’t want to revisit that stairwell any time soon.

Finally, after what felt like centuries, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. All but leaping inside, you slammed your thumb yet again against the correct floor button, hopping around like a madman, adrenaline surging through you.

This whole plan could go one of two ways, and you prayed to every single deity that smiled upon you to let it go right.  

You threw yourself down the hallway, nearly punching through the door in your eagerness to knock on it as loudly as you could. You hollered his name at the top of your lungs, trying your best to convey the urgency of the matter and begging him to come out. Aware that you were creating an incredible fuss, (having only a matter of time before an angry burly staff member physically removed you from the building) you could have cried in relief at the sight of your favourite boy, dressed in his usual crinkled pajama top and sweatpants, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and hair half standing vertical.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of you, tears streaming down your face and bringing your makeup with it. Your eyes were red and puffy, showing that you had been crying for some time, and Jungkook immediately ignored his promise to get over you and brought you into his arms and pressed your head into his chest, moving backwards into the dorm and gently shutting the door with his foot.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, kissing the top of your head and stroking your hair. Your sobs quietened slightly at his soothing actions, and tears fell silently down your cheeks, absorbed promptly by Jungkook’s shirt.

How could you have been so blind? Jungkook had been the only person by your side for years, all this time, even when you were in a coma. Why did it take you this long to realise that he was the only one you’d ever want by your side for the rest of your life? Why did it have to take a love confession from another and breaking their heart to realise that? Was this the kind of person you were?

“Jungkook,” you muttered, bringing your face away from his shirt and looking up at him. He smoothed your hair down, brushing some from your face, and smiled gently.


“Is it okay if I say something absolutely ridiculous?”

“You never asked permission to say something ridiculous before,” he mused. “How absurd are we talking?”

“Completely. Utterly.”

“Oh,” he blinked gently, then nodded, eyes softening as he stared at the way that your tears clung to each of your eyelashes. “Go ahead.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The effect was instantaneous.

Jungkook wasn’t that smart. He wasn’t clever in the way that some of his hyungs were, and he could own up to that. He was, for lack of a better word, shit at science in school and if he ever paid attention he’d be baffled the entire time. However, he knew what a supernova was. He was well rehearsed in what it was like to explode in a sudden mass of light and energy, but he did not, for one millisecond, think that his insides would explode much like one. Pure energy and light was radiating out of him, a smile lighting up his face like never before.

He didn’t think he could ever be as happy as he was the day you woke up, but not only had you proved him wrong, you had triumphed any kind of emotion that anybody in the world had ever experienced.

He was still staring straight into your eyes as this internal explosion was happening, but Jungkook didn’t care how weird that might be.

Did he even have a heart anymore? Had it fallen out of his ass or was it beating too fast to feel it properly?

“Jungkook?” you prodded, nudging him slightly. You were beginning to get concerned with the dazed look on his face and the twinkle in his eyes, a wide grin stretched across his face. It had been several minutes and he had yet to say a word in response to your impromptu confession. As embarrassed as you were at the lack of any reply, you were beginning to feel worried. “Are you… In there?”

“Hm?” He hummed, his eyes still completely glassy. “Did you say something?”

“I told you I’m in love with you and you said nothing.” A blush was creeping up the side of your face now, and his eyes cleared slightly as he continued to stare down at you, the grin still stretched across his face.

“You said that, yes,” he said, voice a little breathless.

“Okay so… What do you think?”

He didn’t reply again and you were growing restless. He was usually so talkative, what was wrong with him today? Had he hit his head or something?

Wincing slightly at the expression, you hit him gently on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, I asked you a ques-”

His head ducked down and he planted his lips so firmly onto yours that there was no way you were dreaming.

Immediately he pressed you against the front door, one hand bracing against the door by the side of your head and the other resting on the back of your neck, holding your head next to his. His lips were moving so gently against yours, coaxing your own into moving with his and eventually the two of you fell into a rhythm that made your heart beat twice as fast as usual. All you could feel was him, him, him, and it felt so right that your eyes filled with tears again. It felt like nothing you could even describe, all of your emotions hitting you at once.

All of the late night phone calls whilst he was on tour, all of the sleepovers, all of the fake dates on Valentine’s Day just so the two of you weren’t alone on the most romantic day of the year. All of the times he had called you in tears because things weren’t going right, all of the times he had comforted you when you had a bad day. All of the times you ditched everything and ran to him. All of the times he had cried for you when you couldn’t be there with him physically. All of the times that he had begged, prayed, called out for you to wake up. All of the happy moments, all of the sad moments, all of the tender moments; wrapped up into one kiss that neither of you ever wanted to end.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and letting your heavy breathing intermingle.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I think I’m in love with you too.”


The end. Thank you.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Final Part

i LOVE the idea of dennis being trans but in the most high-maintenance and dennis-esque way possible. like. he can go from flaccid to erect at a moment’s notice because his $800 pack & play from reelmagik comes with a built-in lightweight flex rod. he can do really cool stuff with his dick because he paid eight hundred fucking dollars for a custom-sculpted and hand-painted 8″ model with 3D liquid silicone gel testicles. he pops his shirt off at every available opportunity because his top surgery turned out great and he wants everyone to know it, as posited by @mcpoylehateblog. he forced mac to wait on him hand and foot while he was recovering from said top surgery like just lying in bed propped up by every pillow in the apartment eating peeled apples while mac gave him mani-pedis. well “forced” isn’t the right word because we all know mac is extremely enthusiastic about tending to dennis’s every need but you know what i mean. back when he was still binding he’d come home after a long day and be like, “ooooooh mac my shoulders are soooooo sore i could DEFINITELY go for a little back rub right now” and mac would come running every god damn time w/ the little kit of essential oils and salt scrubs he got at the spa the one valentine’s day he booked himself and dennis for a totally platonic no-homo couple’s massage. WOW this post got away from me.

Simple math is hard

Let me just preface this by saying I’m in college for early childhood education to be a teacher, hoping for kindergarten. I have a LOT of patience and a desire to help people understand things. While I’m in college I’m working at a gas station and have been for almost two years.
Anywho, a gentleman comes in and he wants stamps. We sell them in little packs of two for 1.49 each (no tax cause stamps). He buys two packs. Later, he comes back in and is mad because they are double sided and he can’t figure out how to peel them apart. I show him how and he demands his money back anyways. I get approval from my manager for the refund. Easy enough, right?
Except when I give him his money back he says I did not give him enough. I gave him exactly 2.98. This customer argues that 1.49 times 2 is NOT 2.98. I go into teacher mode, write it out on paper, explain it three different ways, even show him on my calculator on my phone. Eventually he gives up and says okay whatever I still don’t get it but the man argued with me for nearly 25 minutes that 1.49 plus 1.49 is not 2.98, but actually 3 something…. this man was in his mid 40s.

She is drowning and you have a craving for salt water

She had 

to crack the world open in order

to see its heart. Not her proudest moment. 

Micro tears and claw marks frame

the cracks we promised not to

fall through.

She rubbed her eyes too hard. There

are plastic bottles in the ocean

and you told her that her love handles were


                     The person she wants to become

does not hate you. 

She is chewing on debris

and peeling 

apart anything with a pulse. 

            Pretend the world is spinning 


an angle.

She is chaos 

with gravity.