idk if i should even tag it as him but its his eye and whatever

dad and i watch captain america: the winter soldier
  • dad: oh god it's starting shut up i've been waiting for this for months
  • (movie starts)
  • dad: i don't know what's happening but the french guy fighting cap looks like french macklemore
  • me: how do you even know who macklemore is?
  • dad: i'm hip. i'm cool
  • me: don't you do it
  • dad: i'm gonna pop some tags, only got 20 baguettes in my pocket
  • (five minutes later)
  • dad: is that the Falcon? that's totally the Falcon
  • me: how do you know?
  • dad: i used to read the comic books trust me on this i'm an expert. his superpower was that he could talk to birds
  • me: birds?
  • dad: i mean in hindsight it probably wasn't the most useful thing ever
  • dad: if this winter soldier is supposedly a ghost in the machine that nobody's ever seen, and nobody will ever catch, you would think showing up in broad daylight and blowing up cars would not be his modus operandi
  • dad: how the heck did he laser through concrete??
  • me: idk dad it's nick fury he can probably do whatever he wants
  • dad: i'm sorry attractive nurse who just so happens to live next door, my heart belongs to a seventy year russian dude with a bionic arm
  • me: what
  • dad:
  • dad: nick fury isn't dead. justice never dies. he probably has a billion clones in some top secret storage facility, just waiting for their organ harvest.
  • me: ew dad gross no
  • dad: i really relate to that apple store employee
  • me: we all do dad
  • dad: oh that's that guy from the first movie! i remember him! he was my favorite, his eyes were so blue, and he loved steve so much. i wanted them to get together
  • me: dad good god
  • dad: he was a little less marilyn manson at that point though
  • dad: not that guyliner isn't a good look for this guy
  • dad: when a deadly russian assassin wears eyeliner, it's 'he's so dreamy' and 'wow what a badass'
  • dad: but when i do it it's 'you're too old' and 'bald guys can't pull off make-up'
  • me: dad it was halloween and it was one time you need to let this go
  • dad: so bucky barnes, aka cute cocky guy who died in the first movie, aka steve roger's best friend/boyfriend, is a top secret super scary brainwashed hydra agent?
  • me: mmm-hm
  • dad: called it
  • dad: do you think single handedly destroying jets is just a common, everyday thing for cap? punch a few tanks, feed a few pigeons, take out a plane, help old ladies cross the street...
  • dad: captain america is like your grandad minus the booze and the cussing
  • dad: in all honesty that was a little anti-climactic
  • dad: i was 100% sure nick fury was gonna descend majestically from the heavens, 'All I do is Win' blaring in the background, and single-handedly save everyone's ass
  • dad: scarjo and chris evans are two of the most beautiful people in the world and they are both in this movie and i don't know how to feel about it i have butterflies in my stomach i'm a schoolboy again
  • me: you know on second thought we should have brought mom
  • dad: where's hawkeye? where's bruce? where's tony? where's thor? WHERE ARE ALL THE OTHER AVENGERS AS THE ENTIRETY OF SHIELD IS COMPROMISED AND NICK FURY DIES
  • me: maybe they figured steve could handle it
  • dad: maybe they're all lazy assholes

the fuckboy scheme | 3 | m

◇ Jungkook’s goals changed a long time ago — and so did yours.

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fuckboi!au + college!au

◇ words: 8.3k

tfs 1 | tfs 2

◇ i havent updated in agesss lordt im sorry guys but i hope you enjoy this!! The last part in the tfs series 🤗


You woke up the day after you sent Jeon your thanks for the previous night’s escapade, not an inkling of a hangover because you didn’t drink. You almost wished you had, though, because at least then you could blame your actions on your tipsy brain and not your very alert and well-aware mind. 

But no, you weren’t under any kind of influence when you let Jeon Jungkook tug apart your legs and eat you out like a man starved, and you were definitely in your right mind when you got home and stripped down and took the most flattering picture you could take before sending it to him. You had no idea what consequences your decisions would reap but you were only hoping that, if anything, nothing would change. 

But in the days that followed your exchange of… intimate media with Jeon Jungkook, however, it was as though he was everywhere you went. 

In the supermarket when you were picking up broccoli after Jennie read an article about college students not eating enough greens — in the coffee shop on campus before one of your lectures, where he stole one of your muffins and left you only with a cheeky grin and a fleeting kiss on the cheek (you try not to linger on how almost romantic that particular run-in was), and more that included the campus library and the park as just a few. 

He didn’t try to push anything — he didn’t ask for a kiss, or another picture, or try and coerce you into another night together. It almost seemed as if you’d reached a ceasefire with your little game. Maybe your whole fiasco with Namjoon, and Jungkook’s favour, and your repayment had brought you both to a common ground of some sort. You didn’t fight to make him lose control and he didn’t fight to make you squirm in the best way possible.

It seemed more domestic than whatever it was you had signed up for, yet — and you weren’t about to admit it to anyone — you didn’t mind it. 

The dryer vibrates underneath you, making your body shake with every spin of the drum. Your legs kicked back and forth, ears plugged with music and eyes shut tiredly. It’s Saturday morning, the Saturday of a boring and draining week that you were ecstatic was finally over. Unfortunately, sleeping in was to be left for tomorrow — after fighting to find clothes to wear on Wednesday through Friday, you reluctantly admitted that you needed a visit to the laundromat. So here you are, dressed in day-old sweatpants and a gigantic hoodie, flip-flops hanging off your feet at 9:47 on a Saturday. 

There’s only a few others here; and old lady washing bunches of blankets, a middle-aged man stuffing what looks suspiciously like a body pillow into the dryer, a fellow college student almost falling asleep leaning on the washing machines. 

You, yourself, settled onto the dryer seconds after turning it on, propping your head against the wall behind you. The melodious sound of Rihanna and Kendrick Lamar was doing a good job of lulling you to sleep, pulling you deeper and deeper into dreamland… 

You don’t know how long you had drifted off for, but when you wake up you’re leaning against something warm and distinctly alive that was definitely not there before. Cautiously, you lift your head from what you can tell is a shoulder, eyes trailing up to meet the eyes of— 

“Jeon Jungkook,” you state groggily, eyes narrowing as you yank your earphones from your ears. “What do you think you’re doing, creep?” 

“Don’t thank me,” he replies smoothly, not looking up from his phone. “I put a second load in the dryer for you. Cute panties, by the way.“ 

"You pervert—!" 

"I’m kidding,” he scoffs, a grin tugging at his cheeks as you punch his shoulder roughly. He grabs your shoulders jokingly in an effort to push you away, his giggles unconsciously making you laugh yourself. “I’m not disgusting." 

"Yeah, you are,” you murmur, smirking as you settle back into your position. His shoulder is strangely comfy and he smells nice, too… What detergent does he use? 

“When did you even get here?“ 

"Like twenty minutes ago.” He shrugs. “You were about to fall over so I made the ultimate sacrifice and gave up my shoulder for you." 

"Gee,” you began sarcastically, “Thanks." 

"I know,” he says, nodding. You watch in interest as he pockets his phone, finally leaving you both with nothing else except the dryer underneath you and the wall against your backs. “If I was a bad person I’d ask for a payment…" 

"Payment,” you chortle. “I gave you payment enough just days ago. Or do you not remember?" 

"Ah.” His voice takes on a darker, more mischievous tone and you can’t see it but you can imagine that he’s licked his lips. You roll your eyes at his typical fuckboy behaviour. “I remember quite clearly." 

"Good,” you agree, lifting your head from his shoulder and slipping from the dryer once it stops shaking. “Because that’s the only one you’re getting." 

"Only one I need, baby.” Another shrug, and he leans back and watches you with those darkened eyes and sharp jaw and cheeky smile as you pull your clothes from the dryer. 

He walks you home that day, carrying most of your clothes because you complained about your arms hurting and apparently he skipped gym this week, so he deserved it. It’s another oddly domestic encounter, with Jungkook carrying your laundry basket and cracking jokes, and more than just you can definitely see that, if the glances you were receiving as you walk across campus were anything to go off. 


 You could never truly escape your own thoughts. Even when something wasn’t particularly bothering you your mind would conjure an essay (or two) on why you couldn’t possibly relax until everything was certain. 

And at the moment, your mind was pushing your thoughts to two fronts. On one end, you were beating yourself up for the decisions you’d made in the past month (or in the past few months, more like), chastising yourself because whatever inkling of fondness that you were aware was growing for Jeon Jungkook in your chest was not good news. You were so torn between wanting them to stop and not minding when they grew. 

On the other end, you were quite… satisfied with where you were going. You (using the term very lightly) liked Jungkook (a bit, you guess) and you were certain that he liked you. He was a devil with his mouth and his hips could go at speeds you didn’t think were possible — and when his fingers pressed against your throat? Yes, please. He was the best lay you’ve had in weeks. You were just uncertain as to how long he could entertain himself with you for, and if you could handle whatever feelings were sprouting inside you before he inevitably broke things off. 

Jeon Jungkook was Jeon Jungkook, after all, and you weren’t going to humour yourself with the idea of ‘taming’ him, or something along those lines — even though (and you would never admit it) you wanted to. You and Jungkook, despite your petty arguing and competitiveness, were compatible in a way that nobody else was to you. And that both irritated you and made your heart flutter, albeit reluctantly. 

Trying to distract yourself once again, you switch on your phone, scrolling through your timeline boredly but itching to enter your chat with Jungkook again. The last thing that had been sent was your photo and message. 

Every once in a while, when a post of his would pop up, you would humour yourself with rolling your eyes at every fake-deep caption and scoffing inwardly at his attempts at jokes (which are actually funny, but again, you weren’t about to admit that to anyone). The one post that draws the most attention from you is a completely black photo, but the caption is what interests you: 

u ever wanted to b w someone so bad that u miss them even when uve spent most of ur time thinkin about them or with them?

Out of interest, your eyes flicker to the date the post was put up, only to recoil when you realised it was put up mere hours ago. 

The first comments you see are from another one of Jungkook’s friends, Jung Hoseok. Sounds like love to me bro 👀👀.

Shit, u rite, Jungkook had replied, the words sending your heart into a frenzy. He couldn’t be… possibly… referring to you? Or was it all just wishful thinking? 

But never mind what you decided it was, because quite literally a few seconds after contemplating the matter your phone buzzes, and an Instagram notification swings down onto the top of your screen. 

goldenboi97 [12:41]: u up? 

You bite your lip, wondering if you should reply and what with. It normally wasn’t this hard to talk to him but with the knowledge (or what you think is knowledge) of his feelings weighing down on your shoulders, you feel pressured to reply the way he expects you to reply — as if you should mould yourself into the person he sees you as. 

Don’t be stupid, you chide to yourself as you tap to open the chat fully. If he likes you so much he’ll take what he’s given.

goldengirl [12:41]: its like midday y would i still b sleeping 

goldenboi97 is typing… Your heart hammered and you shook your head, shaking your limbs to shake yourself from your funk. Why was it that when you weren’t directly with him the mere thought of him drowned you in your own nerves? Yet when you stood face to face it was like your brain forced you to become some confident, smooth-talking woman. 

goldenboi97 [12:42]: idk, u might be tired after running thru my mind all day 😏 

You huffed a laugh at the sheer corny-ness emanating from the text, rolling your eyes as you type out a reply. 

goldengirl [12:43]: just wondering how many times youve used that line tbh 

goldengirl [12:43]: Dont u get tired of tryna pick up girls. More specifically me 

You tap out of the conversation, scrolling through your explore page once more, liking photos and tagging your friends in certain posts. You almost miss the notification from Jungkook that comes just a few minutes later. 

goldenboi97 [12:44]: depends on if theyre u or not 

goldenboi97 [12:46]: its fun to use pick up lines on u 

goldenboi97 [12:46]: besides baby u love them 

You stare at the screen for a second, trying to ignore the shiver sent up your spine at his pet name, or how he conveniently knew you that well. 

goldengirl [12:48]: shut uppp 

goldengirl [12:48]: u sound like a twelve year old 

He must still be in the chat, because the little seen pops up immediately below your texts. Once again, goldenboi97 is typing appears just below it.

goldenboi97 [12:48]: im ur 12 year old 

goldenboi97 [12:49]: aight that was cheesy ill show myself out 

goldengirl [12:49]: yeah lmao 

goldengirl [12:49]: its cute tho 

Shit, shit, shit. You were absolutely not meant to type that. Your whole body seizes up and locks as you stare in horror at the three dots that tease you once more, before disappearing off of the page for a good minute until they make another appearance. In the meanwhile, your mind races with the possibilities of what he could be typing, or thinking. 

goldengirl [12:50]: i mean like not in a romantic way in a completely platonic way 

goldenboi97 [12:50]: youre adorable 

goldenboi97 [12:50]: but i guess in a completely platonic and not at all romantic way at ALL 

goldenboi97 [12:51]: not romantic. Nope 

It takes everything you have to not squeal into your pillow at his insinuations. You’ve never been the type of girl to get so excited over a boy, nevermind the type of boy that Jungkook was, but you’re too preoccupied to care. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Jeon,” Jungkook murmurs in frustration, a hand swiping up his face and through his hair. The source of his vexation stares back at him, illuminating his face with white light. 

I kinda like u and i know what we’ve had has been exclusively sexual but idk. That’s what typed into his text bar, and the enter button is haunting him. God, the weight it’d take off his shoulders if he just sent the damn text, but contrary to popular belief, Jungkook did actually have fears: rejection from a girl he seriously likes is one of them. 

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung speaks up from across the room, glancing up from his own phone. His head lifts from where it was resting on his hand and a teasing smile graces his lips. “You get curved?” 

“Nah,” Jungkook mutters, flipping his phone between his hands. “About to though, probably.” 

“Do tell,” Taehyung urges, plopping his phone down in a way that tells Jungkook that he isn’t going to be leaving until Taehyung knew every detail. 

“Nothing to tell,” Jungkook grunts, shrugging nonetheless. “I’m trying to talk up this girl. She’s more than likely gonna turn me down.” 

The thought made him sick. How was he supposed to tell you his feelings without sounding like a hypocritical idiot? How would he convince you to believe him? 

God, a few months ago the idea of this would’ve made him laugh. It was always easy for him to pick up and drop girls like they were nothing — he had no clue of what was different about you but if the thoughts of you constantly plaguing his mind and the thumping of his heart when you were around was anything to go on, he was sure that he liked you. A lot. 

“You seem more bothered with that than you should be.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, staring quietly at the sentence just waiting to be sent, his thumb hovering nervously over the enter button. “I am.” 

(He doesn’t end up sending the message for one reason and one reason only: fear.) 

“You and Jungkook seem to be chatting an awful lot,” Rose comments as another notification lights up your screen. You shrug, pretending to brush it off while you set your fork on the edge of your plate and reply to his text. “That’s it? A shrug?" 

"What do you want?” You mumble distractedly, before you put your phone back and return to devouring your pancakes. “There’s nothing to tell.”

 Rose’s eyes narrow as she reaches behind her to another table to steal their maple syrup, pouring a generous amount over her plate. “I’m just saying that it’s weird how you hated him just, like, three weeks ago." 


"And now you’re texting and stuff. I just don’t want you to get into something without knowing what’s really going on. You could get hurt." 

"Thanks for caring,” you say sincerely, “but I’m a big girl. I know what I’m getting into." 

She hums suspiciously, playing with her fork. "If this turns out bad I’m gonna tell you I told you so—" 

"You ladies want anything else?” A voice asks suddenly, drawing your attention from Rose and her lecture. It’s a decently tall man, with tanned skin and a small nose and a beaming smile that’s much too bright for this time of morning. He looks weirdly familiar, but you try not to creep him out with staring. “Coffee? Extra pancakes?" 

"Um, we’re good,” Rose replies nicely, smiling. She glances at you as you finish the last morsel of food on your plate. “Actually, can we get the bill?" 

"Bill?” He echoes, a brow raising. He shakes his head, slyness slinking into his smile. You’re startled when his eyes settle on you. “For Kookie’s girl? It’s fine — on the house.” J

ung Hoseok — that’s why he was so bloody familiar looking. He was one of Jungkook’s buddies, close enough for Jungkook to think of him as a brother — but that wasn’t relevent at the moment when all you could think about is the odd mixture of elation, confusion, embarrassment and horror that takes control of your body. 

“Me? Jungkook and I— we—” You splutter uselessly, gaping as Hoseok winks and begins to turn. “I am not Jeon Jungkook’s girl—!" 

Rose places a hand over yours frantically. "Stop! We’re getting free breakfast!”

 You deflate, pouting as Rose gathers her things before you too get ready to leave, head still swimming from what you were feeling. 

(You coincidentally don’t confront the giddiness that you felt at the thought of being Jungkook’s, but that’s another story for another day.) 

 It feels like forever since Jungkook has actually attended a lecture. They weren’t mandatory for this class, after all, and with them being first thing in the morning he more often than not opted to sleep in rather than haul his ass to class. If it weren’t for Jin, actually, he’d still be in bed instead of a crowded lecture hall, filled to the brim with the tired, coffee-fueled zombies that were his fellow college students. 

He’s slumped onto his desk, laptop bright and unused in front of him. Chatter drifted through the air with every minute that passed without the professor, and although he was sat beside friends and could spot many a familiar face within the room, he was too tired to begin a conversation. And he really wasn’t planning to, because Jin had already spoken to him about his temper, but when he heard the two snot nosed boys talking a few rows in front of him, he couldn’t help himself. 

She’s got a tight ass. You see her at Jackson’s last party? Was this close from goin’ up to her and taking her home—

Everyone was, bro. Jeon’s one lucky fucker — if she was mine, though, I wouldn’t be so open-handed with her—

"Good thing she’s not though, huh?” Jungkook called gruffly, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. He sees them stiffen, throwing their eyes behind them to see who had eavesdropped on their conversation. They shift uncomfortably as Jungkook continues, “Next time you decide to talk ‘bout how much you wanna fuck someone make sure their fuckin’ man isn’t in the room, huh?”

Their cheeks are flushing red as they turn back to the front of the room. Jungkook was about to continue if it wasn’t for the hand that pats his arm, stirring him from his anger. Taehyung raises an eyebrow warningly, sending Jungkook a weird look that makes the younger man huff and pull his arm away, only muttering, “They’re fuckin’ disgusting." 

Taehyung moves to open his mouth but he’s interrupted by the professor — an excellently timed entrance that Jungkook sighs in relief for, knowing that he’s not ready for the conversation Taehyung was definitely going to initiate. 

He suffers for an hour and a half through the professor’s drawling and Taehyung’s curious looks, and by the time it’s time to leave he’s certain that he’s about to jump over every table and sprint as far away as he can. He packs away his laptop with the energy of one hundred toddlers with a sugar high, a spring​ in his step as he passes past his professor with a wave of his hand— 

"So it’s official?” Taehyung asks casually from besides Jungkook. Jungkook sighs in exasperation; in his rush to leave he hadn’t escaped his friend. “You and _____?" 

"Nothing’s confirmed,” he grumbles, unconsciously stopping when Taehyung stops to drink from a water tap. Jungkook puts his hands in his pocket, eyes drifting leisurely over campus. “I don’t even know if she wants more than… Whatever we have." 

"That’s a stretch away from calling yourself her man, dude,” Taehyung whistles, lifting his mouth momentarily, “Whatever, though. Listen, Jimin’s having another get together tonight. Somethin’ small—" 

"By small, you mean at most a hundred, right?” Jungkook huffs a laugh, leaning against the wall next to Taehyung. “I’ll be there. Probably." 

"You should bring ‘your girl’,” Taehyung snickers, grinning devilishly. Jungkook hides an annoyed smile, still focused on his surroundings. The fountain in the centre of campus, spewing crystal water that sparkled in the sunlight. A group of people playing frisbee like they were on the cover of a college brochure. Namjoon obviously trying to chat you up. A crow eating what was left of a student’s sandwich— 

Wait, what? 

Eyebrows knitting together, Jungkook turned his attention back to what had caught his eye. Sure enough, across the gigantic fountain and even then, a few metres beyond that, was you and Namjoon. You were obviously uncomfortable, tugging on your bag strap nervously at the man in front of you. Jungkook could see from his body language that Namjoon was desperately trying to seduce you, with how bit his lip, or gazed down at you darkly. It made Jungkook sick to his stomach, so much so that he doesn’t even notify Taehyung when he strides away from him and towards you. 

“—had a good time. Maybe you could come over tonight — have a continuation…?” Jungkook’s reminded of how horrible Namjoon was in bed and the very fact that he’s asking for another night when he didn’t satisfy you and left right after he came made Jungkook scoff internally. He was in no place to ask for another night. 

“I—I can’t,” you were saying, fake sincerity pushing into your tone of voice, “I gotta study for for his test—" 

"I’ll help you study,” Namjoon interrupted flirtatiously, leaving no room for argument, “I got top of my class last year. I’ll be sure to get you a good grade—" 

"Hey, baby,” Jungkook swooped in, swinging an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You jolt, but the relief that shows on your face is clear amidst the confusion. It makes him even more irritated at the oblivious man in front of him, but for your sake, he brushes it off. “I haven’t seen you all week. Missed you, baby." 

Namjoon’s face was the epitome of confusion. He watched, eyes narrowed and arms folded as Jungkook pecked the tip of your nose before he turned to him, smiling boyishly. "Hey, Joon. What were you and my girl talking about?" 

His words were friendly but his voice told a different tale. You didn’t seem to mind, though, unconsciously burrowing deeper into his side and interlocking fingers with the hand that hung from your shoulder. Namjoon smiles wildly, no emotion reaching his eyes. 

"Nothing, nothing. Just, uh, offering to help her study. I actually have to go now, so—" 

Jungkook doesn’t even attempt to make it look as if he’s reluctant to see Namjoon go, going as far as to roll his eyes when the man was finally facing away from him. Childish, maybe, but it was the only way he could express his annoyance without starting a fight. When the source of his unpleasant mood has finally disappeared from sight, he sighs in relief, peering down at you. "You okay? Dude wasn’t easing up on you." 

"I know,” you agreed readily, “He really just… Did not get any of my signals… Thanks for stepping in, though — you really didn’t have to." 

"Course I did.” He frowns. “I… guess I just don’t like seeing you uncomfortable." 

At the mention, he slowly slinks his arms away, missing the furrow of your brows when his fingers unlink from yours. Coughing awkwardly, he looks passed you and spots Taehyung, pointing at you and mouthing something vigorously. Ass — no, ask — hair — her to the party

He rolls his eyes at his flailing friend but turns to you anyway, trying to steady what semblance of nerves he felt. "Listen,” he began, catching your eye, “Uh, Jimin’s having another party or whatever. You wanna go? With me? Or I mean, you could just — go without me, but see me there if you get what I mean—" 

"I really can’t,” you say, wincing. “I wasn’t lying when I said I had to study. But maybe another time, yeah?" 

"U-uh, yeah." 

"Great, golden boy,” you tease, a smirk settling onto your features. “I gotta go, text me later or something?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook calls after you when you turn on your heel, soon far enough to not hear him or the disappointment hidden in his voice, “I’ll… Definitely do… That…”

 "That was rough.“ Taehyung winces pitifully as he appears beside Jungkook, patting his friend’s arm in encouragement. "Look on the bright side, though! She asked you to text her later." 

"Everybody says that,” Jungkook grumbles, finally moving his eyes from where you disappeared minutes before. He fidgets with the strap of his bag uncomfortably, desperately wishing that he didn’t look as pouty as he felt. “I need to talk to her — I can’t do it over text." 

"She won’t be studying all night.” Taehyung shrugged, nudging Jungkook to start walking. “Just go to her place or somethin’." 

Jungkook frowned. He’s been alone with you so many times and seen you at your most vulnerable, but somehow actually going to your place without any ulterior motive felt very, very intimate to him. It’s then that he’s struck with the severity of his feelings — the realisation that this has never happened to him and that he’s completely unprepared makes him uncomfortable; but maybe that’s why he has to do this. If he wants to get serious with you he’s going to have to step out of his comfort zone. Maybe he would pay you a visit. 

 It takes a few hours for your heart to stop fluttering at the thought of what happened — which is annoying, to say the least, because you’re supposed to studying and you can’t when you find yourself smiling to yourself whenever your mind wanders. Damn Jungkook. Even when he wasn’t around he was driving you crazy. 

The way he sauntered up so confidently, the possessiveness that hid in his voice when he addressed Namjoon… You were surprised you remained composed throughout the whole thing. He was the first person that you had experienced such an intense feeling with, and you weren’t completely opposed. 

With Jenny gone to Rose’s place for the evening, you have to have some sort of background noise — Love Galore by SZA fills the silence calmly, pushing you to open your books and start studying. So focused on your work you don’t see your phone lighting up multiple times; and, unbeknownst to you, across the city the very fact that you hadn’t noticed was instilling anxiety in the same man that had been driving you insane. 

"She’s not answering,” Jungkook mumbles, thumbing his screen, “She hasn’t even read it yet." 

Taehyung, in all his drunken glory, sways dangerously, smile delirious and wide. With his arm hazardously placed around Jungkook’s neck and a red cup clutched in his hand, he looks completely in his element. The only thing he was missing was his partner in crime, who was too preoccupied with pouring over his phone instead of drinking. 

"Put down your phone,” Taehyung hiccups, “And pick up a drink, my friend! The night is young! We are young—!" 

"Do you think she’ll mind if I show up randomly?” Jungkook mutters to himself, chewing his lip anxiously. 

Taehyung gives a dramatic groan, sinking into the couch beside Jungkook. “I’m sick of this. Where’s your confidence gone? You’re Jeon Jungkook. You shouldn’t have to go to her. She should come to you." 

"I am,” the man himself replies, still uncertain but much steadier. “I… I am." 

"You could have any girl in her right now!” Taehyung continues, crowing loudly, “That girl over there’s been giving you the eyes for the last hour. Every time Kang Seulgi passes by she stares at you! You’re. Jeon. Jungkook." 

"You know what? I’m gonna go talk to her right now,” Jungkook begins determinedly, “If I hurry, I’ll catch the bus—" 

"That’s — that’s not what I was trying to encourage—” Taehyung begins. 

“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook says, almost forgetting his jacket on the back of the couch. Across the room, he catches Jimin’s eye; he raises a hand in farewell, receiving a smile in return. He was too busy chatting up some girl, anyway, so there was no point interrupting him. Despite the fact that this was a quote unquote 'small party’, the house was teeming and hard to navigate — Jungkook’s become an expert of sorts when it comes to this though, and finds himself bursting into the cool night just five minutes later. 

Teeth chattering, Jungkook hugs his arms closer to himself as he waits for the bus with what little change he happened to have in his jeans. $2.38. That would get him to your dorm, but it definitely wouldn’t get him home. If everything went according to plan, though, he wouldn’t have to go home anyway. 

The bus ride is silent, letting Jungkook mull over his thoughts and his nerves bubble. The only other people on the bus are an old lady that doesn’t seem to be getting off anytime soon and a man wearing a tracksuit and eating pizza, so he has no distractions. 

When he’s approaching your dorm building, it’s only then that the doubt emerges amongst his confidence. What if you happened to leave to the grocery store right before he arrived? What if you had taken up Namjoon’s offer and he didn’t know? What if he completely misread the signs and you didn’t want anything more like he did? 

All his worries melt away when your door opens. The first thing he’s hit with is the sound of music, and then he registers your figure. Your head is leaning against the door frame, body covered with a large hoody and hair piled on top of your head (maybe he gapes for a second, but don’t tell anyone). 

“Jungkook?” You ask curiously, “What are you doing here? I thought Jimin was having a party?" 

"I—I texted,” he stutters, ignoring your question with a lick of his lips, “I need to talk to you." 

“Oh. Okay.” The confusion is clear in your voice but you open your door wider anyway, and he passes by you. He walks into your living room, acknowledging the books splayed out on the coffee table as you shut the door. “I’m sorry I didn’t see your texts. I was, um…" 

"Studying.” He shoots you a small smile. “I know." 

"Yeah,” you say breathily, sitting yourself opposite him. For a second you just look at him, taking in his appearance absentmindedly, almost forgetting that it wasn’t socially acceptable to just stare at him for 30 seconds straight. “Oh, so — uh, what did you want to talk to me about?" 

"Us, actually.” He hides the gulp that follows, forcing himself to not fidget nervously. He watches your expression carefully, taking note of the emotions that run over your features; confusion, nervousness, anxiety… 

“I’m gonna be completely honest,” he begins with a nervous laugh and cough, hand running over the back of his head. “I’ve never done this before. Like, never. I’ve never been interested in anything more than — than drunken fucks in someone else’s house and it’s confusing as shit but I’ve decided to confront myself on… On, I don’t know, why I want more." 

He doesn’t risk a peek at your face. Not until he’s done. 

"I’m tryna get everything out so it probably seems rushed and messy as fuck or whatever but that’s that only way I know how to do this so I’m just gonna get on with it and say that I like you. Like, a lot—" He doesn’t need to look up to know that you’re opening your mouth to speak— "Just — just wait a second, okay? 

"So we had our whole thing where we tried to rile each other up and see who caved first. And it was fun, it was something different and I appreciated that you could see the playful side of it, you know? I wasn’t lookin’ for anything serious so I liked that and I still do but somewhere along that fucked up line I… God, how do I say this without sounding cheesy? I started liking you. In a completely non-sexual and completely romantic way. 

"And I know you may not trust me.” He bites his cheek, eyes focused on his clasped hands. “99% of our entire campus wouldn’t trust me, fuck, I wouldn’t trust me — you have absolutely no reason to and I know I’m rambling but the truth is that I’m too scared to stop talking because you might reject me. I just—” He takes a deep breath, finally meeting your eyes— “I want to make us official.”

 His heart is thumping. The adrenaline that buzzes in his limbs makes it hard to focus on anything except the beating in his chest and the flow of his breath into his body. It amplifies every sensation in him and it takes every nerve in his body to stop him from jumping up and pacing. 

“Jungkook…” God, you sound so shocked. Was he really that much of a fuckboy? Who was he kidding; of course he was. “I… I really don’t know what to say…" 

"I — I can give you time, if you want,” he offers quietly, even though he’s hoping that you’ll give his answer right now.

 "I don’t need time.“ You meet his eyes, before you stand from your seat and maneuver around your coffee table. His heart leaps into his throat when you drop onto his lap, leaving you suddenly nose to nose and forehead to forehead. "I don’t think I do, at least." 

"You got an answer?” Jungkook breathes, happiness already tugging at his heart. 

“I do,” you mumble back, smiling sheepishly. “I was… I was too scared to tell you that I wanted to make us official. I heard that as soon as it’s mentioned you bolt and I… I didn’t want to scare you away." 

And he looks into your eyes — really looks — and he’s hit with a sensation so powerful that it almost takes his breath away. He could never put it into words, could never exactly describe it, but it made him feel as if he needed you, so much so that you could never be close enough to him, despite being sat on his lap with your arms on his shoulders and his on your hips. It’s with this sensation still thrumming in his bones that he grasps your jaw and pulls you down to meet his lips, effortlessly locking into place like you were made for each other. 

You release a content sigh against his lips, melting against him seconds later, threading your hands through his dark locks and savouring the feeling of his lips on yours. To finally call him yours was a totally different sensation in itself, but to kiss him so deeply as you had never before was overwhelming. You both had tried to avoid the intimacy of sharing too many kisses during your previous escapades, so it was probably the first time you’d kissed him this long.

 "As much as I’d love to fuck you right here, right now,” Jungkook panted as he pulled away, lips swollen and pupils blown, “You have a test tomorrow—" 

"I can retake it,” you murmur, leaning forward. “Besides, if I have to take the test with you on my brain I’m not going to be able to focus—" 

"You’re making excuses." 

"I am,” you agree, pecking his lips a few more times. You stop to meet his eyes, cocking your head to the side. “But what really matters now is if you’re going to fuck me like you said you wanted to." 

He narrows his eyes, and you can tell that he’s fighting within himself on what to do. Ultimately, his tempation must get the best of him and he’s left cursing to himself as he pulls you back down again. 

"You’re too convincing for your own good,” he murmurs, his hand slipping underneath your hoodie and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He toys casually with the band of your bra, letting it snap against your back. 

“And you love it.” You diverge your kisses from his lips, to the sharpness of his jaw and down across the expanse of his neck. You finally had enough time to leave marks like you wanted to; you weren’t consumed with mindless or drunken lust like the other times you’d been together, and you found it much more gratifying this way. 

You freeze when a breathy moan catches your attention — the result of a particularly hard nip at his pulse point, one that was sure to bruise. You’re sure he can feel the devilish smile that unfurls across your lips when you follow up your first one with many more. “A-ah. Let me have a go, b-baby." 

"Can’t you let me have my fun?” You pout playfully. Nevertheless, you roll over until you lay propped up against the cushions on the couch, allowing Jungkook to position himself over you. Hiking a leg around his waist, he lowers himself until the softness of his lips makes contact with your throat. The feeling of him ghosting over the sensitive skin has your breath hitching, but you manage to stop yourself from showing any other signs of pleasure with a tug of your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Gonna mark you up,” Jungkook mutters, almost to himself, “Make everyone know whose you are." 

I’m sure everyone already knows, you plan to say, but you’re cut short when Jungkook sucks intensely on a certain area. It’s most definitely going to bruise, with how he’s nipping and tugging and sucking the skin into his mouth like his mouth depends on it. 

"I can’t wait,” you grumble, both hating and loving how he he’s taking his time with you. “Hurry up—" 

"You can wait,” he responds, but he raises himself to his knees anyway, stopping to admire his work. “You just don’t want to. Maybe I’ve spoiled you too much." 

"You haven’t spoiled me enough,” you retort. With a quick wriggle, you’ve thrown the gigantic hoodie you’d been wearing over your head and onto the floor, leaving you in a mismatched pair of underwear that Jungkook stares too long at. “What? Do you know how hard it is to maintain matching underwear?" 

"It’s not that.” He shakes his head, and you catch a sheepish grin before it’s covered when he removes his black t-shirt. “You’re cute, is all." 

"I could say the same.” You grin coyly, sitting up for a second to undo the clasp of your bra. Pride fills you when you catch him licking his lips at the sight of your bare chest, and while you’d usually tease him about it, you were equally as far gone — it was taking a lot of effort to not run your hands all over the muscular plane of his chest, to paint it bouquets of red and purple… 

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he hums, surprising you by suddenly dropping down and placing his lips to your stomach. You run your hands softly through his hair, gazing affectionately down at him as he kisses all over you. “I still want to take my time." 

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t complain. Having him slow down made the atmosphere much more intense, more intimate. It didn’t feel like you were about to fuck — it felt like you were about to— 

Makin’ love, love, we makin’ love.“ You hear him sing the words underneath his breath, in perfect pitch to Dean’s voice that was echoing throughout the room. You never knew he could sing, but even from those few seconds you’re already hooked. 

"You’re a good singer,” you whisper. His head shoots up, as if he hadn’t meant for you to hear him — but at the sight of your smile, he relaxes, smiling in embarrassment. You smooth your thumb over his locks of hair as he gets lower, and lower, until he’s kissing your clothed pussy and sending tremors of anticipation running through your body. 

Ah." You’re caught off guard when he presses his thumb against your clit through your underwear, rubbing back and forth. Instantly, shocks of pleasure shake your nerves, pushing you to begin rolling your hips towards his hand. He watches leisurely, allowing you to grind against him until a wet patch decorates your underwear. 

"Let’s get these off,” he mutters, sitting on his haunches to slip them down your legs. He dives down right after, setting to work on using what wetness seeped from you as a lubricant to rub at your bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you nice and warmed up for me, baby." 

"I’m ready,” you whine impatiently. Your actions betray your words, though, with how you desperately buck your hips against his hand, grappling for something to hold onto, “We can take it slow another time— fuck!" 

Jungkook took your clit between his lips, flexing his jaw as he suckled it deliciously. His large hands pressed down against your hips, keeping you flush against the couch as he worked his magic. You could feel yourself dripping, no doubt making a mess underneath you, but your mind was too frazzled to care. The lewd sounds coming from his mouth paired with the warmth settling on your skin had your cheeks heating up, your breath catching in your throat as a result. "S—shit, Jungkook…”

 "Almost there, baby,“ he said, voice muffled against you. "Just a bit more and you’ll be ready for me, huh?" 

The response he gets comes in the form of a groan, one that makes him grin against you. Only a few more minutes of tortuously slow pleasure pass, fire building gradually in the pit of your stomach, so close yet so far from the thing you want most —before he lifts himself, wetness covering his chin and cheeky grin at the sight of you floundering against your couch. Standing, he pushes his jeans to the ground. "You got a condom for me, baby?" 

Your hand fumbles to rummage through the drawers on the underside of the coffee table, a place where you and Jennie stuffed anything and everything — bobby pins, hair ties, a chocolate bar, tonnes of paper, a packet of wipes — and, finally, a lone condom that you had shoved in in a panic when your parents came to visit and you needed to hide it quick. 

To Jungkook’s surprise, you rise to your knees and shuffle towards his standing form, tearing the plastic open and waiting expectantly for him to pull himself out of his briefs. "I can do it.”

“No, let me.” So he pulls himself out, mentally saving the image of you grasping his half-hard cock in his mind — especially when you lean forward, placing a teasing kiss on the very tip in a way that lets Jungkook know that you’re well aware of the effect you have on him. Seconds later and he’s covered, standing tall and proud against his stomach. 

“How do you want it, my girl?” He murmurs, peering down to meet your eyes. His hand grips your jaw firmly, forcing you to hold the contact. Licking your lips, you gaze up at him coyly.

 "I want to ride you.“ 

And he’s quick to oblige — grasping your hips and swapping your positions until he sits underneath you and you kneel over him, leaning back and letting you take the wheel. You sink down on him with a guttural groan just a minute later, unable to look away from him and the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw, the rise of his chest. He fills you in a way nobody else ever has, a way that makes your stomach twist in a good way. 

When the first inklings of sensitivity ease away to something more bearable, you begin to rise and fall. Your hands cling to the muscle of his shoulders, as if your pleasure increases with the amount of him you touch — and you could see the self control within his eyes leaving with each passing second, with each clench of you around him, every tug of your fingers in his hair, every smack of skin that fills the room. 

"So — f-fuckin’ — beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs, running his hands over your body in awe. If you weren’t so preoccupied, you would’ve blushed, or smiled bashfully, but the only thing you can do in the heat of the moment the only thing you can do is yank him closer and give him the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever given. He likes it though, if the deep groan that rumbles within his chest is anything to go by. “Shit." 

Your hips are getting sore from moving so quickly but you have to satisfy the throbbing pleasure that had settled and was growing deep within you, whether it made you black out or lose feeling in your limbs or scream. You weren’t far off, anyway, with the pants and groans that Jungkook was pulling from you expertly, with the fingers that were rolling your sensitive nipples or the occasional soft pulls of your hair, or even when he pressed against your throat just right— 

Suddenly, he grasps your thighs and stills you, drawing noises of protest from you until he pulls your forehead to his shoulder and winds his arms around you, making you as compact as possible. One hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, he begins to buck his hips into you in the completely right spot, saturating your nerves with pleasure so white-hot that you can’t find it within yourself to make any sounds. You sit, limp against him, taking whatever he was giving you. 

The feeling of him completely surrounding you warmed you up from the inside out. His arms, warm and heavy 'round your body, his shoulder pressed against your face, his cock drilling inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit— fuck— 

"Jungkook,” you whimper, voice muffled by his shoulder, “I—I—" 

"That’s okay, baby,” he grunts, sounding just s wrecked as you felt, “That’s okay. Let yourself go — cum all over me, come on—" 

The last thing that you remember before blacking out is too much pleasure to handle and your own breathlessness, then the sound of Jungkook’s final groans in your ear as he finishes right after you. 

 "You’re telling me that you fucked me so hard I passed out?" 

Jungkook shrugs, but the pride is clear on his face. "I knew I was amazing, but this is a whole other level." 

"I was probaby tired,” you grumble, burying your face into his chest. “So shut up." 

Jungkook hums, letting you both fall into silence. It must’ve been an hour or two since you finished, since the digital clock seemed to be telling you that it was nearing 4AM. You woke up completely clean and dressed in your hoodie again, laying flat against Jungkook’s chest. It was then that he filled you in — humour lacing his voice, he told you of how you had slumped onto him when you came, how he had cleaned you with the wipes hidden in the coffee table and then dressed you. He made you eat a cup of instant ramen before he let you lay down again, saying something about having to replenish yourself. 

"What happens now?” You ask seconds later, lifting your head. “Between us, I mean." 

That evil little part of your brain was telling you that this was a hoax. Jungkook had finally tricked you into sleeping with him again and you had lost because you believed him. It was telling you that Jungkook was going to up and leave like he did with all the other girls and go boast to his equally as bad friends. 

Jungkook shrugs. "I told you — I don’t know how to go about this 'boyfriend’ stuff. But—” He pulls your hand from your side, linking your fingers together— “I can learn, right?" 

Your heart soars, and you grin, nodding. "Definitely." 

So that was the story of how you really did dismantle The Fuckboy Scheme — albeit, not how you planned, but when Jungkook burrows his face into your neck and falls asleep there you can’t find it in yourself to care.

 ("What the FUCK!" 

"Jennie!” You gasp, almost falling from the couch had it not been for Jungkook’s grasp on your hand. Said girl stands in the doorway to your apartment, eyes wide and shocked and horrified and a billion other things you couldn’t hope to identify. “I-it’s not what it looks like?" 

"It looks like you and Jeon fucked on our couch—!" 

"We did,” Jungkook chimes in, smiling brightly. 

“You’re not helping—” You hiss, slapping his chest, only for him to catch your hand in the process. 

Jennie watches with a wrinkled nose and folded arms. “I’m only saying this because you’ve walked in on me and Rose so many times, but I’m letting you off this once." She struts towards her bedroom then, mumbling about 'kids these days’ and 'horn dogs’. 

"That…” Your eyes narrow. “Was better taken than expected.”

 "It’s because we’re adorable.“ Jungkook shrugs, before he yanks you down with what must be all of his strength and cages you against him. "Let’s go to sleep, please. I’m still tired and after that amazing orgasm I’m sure you are too—" 

"If I had the strength I would slap you so hard right now." 

"Sure you would." 

But you’re already asleep, and Jungkook follows almost instantly — and it’s the first time he’s fallen asleep with a smile on his face.)

“Everyone thinks we’re dating.” Simon randomly announced in the middle of of his and Jace’s second weekly movie nights.

Jace hit the pause button on the remote and gave Simon a quizzical look. “And?”

“That doesn’t bother you?”


Simon stared at Jace. “It doesn’t?”

“Why would it?” Jace asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean… aren’t we?”


“Aren’t we dating?” Jace repeated. “I mean, this is a date, right?”

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zombie apocalypse voltron au part 1

in honor of the walking dead season 3 getting released the other day or so. i will write angsty headcannons ft the voltron crew. and possible reader. Part one will center around Lance because I realized I was writing a lot for him and decided to spilt it into parts.

It’s summer when the outbreak happens. Lance lives in Arizona, he’s seventeen at the time.


  • Lance was celebrating his youngest sister’s, Elizabeth, sixth birthday when his tio came running into the house, his smoking break cut short. Yelling at everyone to turn on the television. Lance was curious, because his tio was very determined to get a smoke in and wouldn’t cut it short for something stupid. So immediately he had everyone’s attention.
  • Lance’s mom cut on the tv and changed it to the news channel. The news anchors were talking about a weird disease outbreak that was affecting the recently deceased. They were told to stay indoors for now and lock the doors. The whole family was unsure what to do or think, the party was cut short and everyone went home. No one went past the fence to see what was on the other side. The neighborhood was eerily quiet and that lasted a few more days until Lance’s dad decided it was time to leave.
  • They were running low on food and he was going to go to the grocery store and visit Lance’s uncle. They waited anxiously for around two hours and then Lance’s dad came running into the house holding his neck, blood seeping through his fingers. They immediately all rushed to him, and his mother was cleaned the wound and trying to calm his dad down.
  • His dad told them about how the grocery store was completely abandoned along with the roads. It’s like everyone had ran away, it was a ghost town. So he went to his brother’s home and there was blood on the doorsteps, and that immediately caught his attention so be rushed inside to see if his brother was okay. His brother was on the ground hugging his knees, blood all over him. He reached down to help him up and was immediately attacked. His dad was trying to push him off but he was stronger then him. But he bit into his neck. His dad just remembers pushing him off of him and running back into the car.
  • Lance doesn’t know what to think. He’s shaking a little and his little sister, Elizabeth tugs on his sleeve and asks him what’s happening. He doesn’t even know what to say, and he responded truthfully, that he doesn’t know. His dad and mom go to their room to talk privately about what’s happening.
  • He doesn’t see them for the rest of the night.
  • Him and his older sister Gabriel have to make dinner and keep the younger two, Elizabeth and Andre from bothering their parents and keep them quiet. Lance wonders if the oldest out of all of them, Alex is okay.
  • At one point in the night Lance thinks he hears screaming and something slamming into the ground in the next room. But he blames it on his over reactive imagination.
  • He awakes to screaming the next morning. He immediately shoots up from the bed and runs into the other room to find his sister on the ground clutching her hand as blood slowly seeps from the wound. She’s sobbing and yells at Lance to run away with the others.
  • Lance hears her loud and clear but he still makes his way towards the room. Immediately upon entering his mother and father jump on top of Gabriel and she’s screaming. Andre and Elizabeth are sobbing and screaming. Lance yells at them to stay back.
  • His sister manages to push the two off and she yells at Lance. He tries to rush in but she pushes him back. She tells him to shut the door and leave with the kids immediately. To find their other family members. She slams the door shut.
  • All he can hear is screaming and the sound of flesh tearing. He slides down the door and brings his knees to his chest and chokes out a sob. His siblings are shaking and run towards him. He has blood on his shirt. He’s shaking and tears are running down his face.
  • The screaming stops after what seems like forever. He can hear groaning coming from the other side. The three of them stay huddled together sobbing and shaking quietly for an hour after it all happened. Lance can’t let his little brother and sister get hurt.
  • He stands up slowly and tells them to grab a backpack and pack only what they need. They are before 1pm, before nightfall. They nod and slowly get up to do so.
  • Lance heads to his room, he cleans the blood off of him and cleans his face. He throws off the bloody shirt, he can’t even look at it. He grabs a backpack and packs a few extra pairs of clothes. Some small items that hold a special meaning to him. Family photos. Essential things. He then goes into the kitchen and packs the remaining food and grabs water bottles. His siblings come into the room bags packed and dressed out of their pajamas.
  • Lance tells them to sit on the couch for a minute while he does some last things. He grabs a pen and paper and begins writing, “My mother, father, and sister are in this room. Please don’t hurt them.”. He tapes it to the bedroom door and even goes as far as to go out back and grab planks of wood and puts it over the door. To make sure that they don’t break down the door.
  • He picks up the house phone and he knows that the line went down a few days ago but he just wants to try one more time before they leave. He dials his big brother’s number, of course nothing goes through. He lets out a sigh and grabs the car keys and motions for his siblings to follow.
  • He tries reassuring his little brother and sister that he will make sure that they are okay and he won’t let anything happen to them. He locks the door and looks at his childhood home one last time. His eyes start watering again but he turns around an heads for the SUV.
  • He fumbles around for a minute trying to find a map and eventually finds one. He decides to head to the next town over. It would take about an hour to get there. The car ride there is quiet and gloomy. The roads are empty and the sun is already starting to set.
  • The next town isn’t any better, he does find one person. A middle aged man, who lost everyone the first two days. The man calls the disease infected dead Muertos a simple name but Lance knows what it means. The man’s name is David and he tells them that he’s heading towards the South. It gets cold down there and there’s less people so maybe they didn’t catch the outbreak.
  • Lance decides that that is where they’ll go. Even if there is a tiny chance that the outbreak didn’t reach down there then he’s willing to take that risk. As long as his siblings will be okay. The man ask if they have a weapon and Lance realizes that he never brought one. He shakes his head slowly and the man kindly offers a 9mm pistol and two boxes of ammo. Lance refuses to take it, the man says that he has a whole bag full of ammo and that he’ll be fine. He tells that he will need it to protect his siblings and himself, the world has already gone to hell and it’s only been two weeks since this all happened. He also points Lance in the direction of a Hunting store that has a lot of weapons and ammo, and says that he should go there before heading out. Lance thanks him and gives a a few cans of food as thanks. They spilt ways and wish each other luck and safety.
  • Lance keeps Elizabeth and Andre close by his side he holds the gun tightly in his hand. He’s shot a gun before, he lives in the Southwest so of course he knows how to use one. He doesn’t want to use it though and prays that he never has to. They walk down the quiet and abandoned streets towards the hunting supply store. Seems like most of the supplies has been stolen. But he manages to find a few good things. Three hunting knives, he hands one to both his siblings telling them to only use in case of an emergency and when he’s not around. He finds another 9mm pistol hidden under a pile of cardboard and he finds more ammo. He takes whatever food is left and quickly leaves to get back on the road.
  • The first three months went by well, they encountered only nice people and traded things. They had just entered Texas, which it was slow progress but he didn’t want to rush anything or push the kids too hard. They also encountered a few Muertos but Lance learned that they were slow and the three were able to outrun. Andre turned eleven during those three months and they made the best birthday they could with the situation. Lance was even able to find a action figure that Andre was talking about before this all happened.
  • Their luck ran out when they encountered two older men. The two men held both of siblings at gun point demanding for Lance to hand over everything and he’d let them live. Lance couldn’t do that, it put the three in a lot danger. They got a few good punches on Lance. But one of them slipped and that was Lance’s opportunity. He didn’t know what came over him but he ran for his gun and shot both of them dead. He was shaking and sobbing, he didn’t want to kill anyone. His siblings were the one comforting him. They left that area immediately.
  • Another month went by before they met another guy just as they were about to leave Texas. He was around Lance’s age, his name was Hunk. He was kind and asked if he could tag along with Lance. Lance hesitantly agreed to let Hunk tag along, he somehow trusted someone he barely met and so did his siblings. The three of them and Hunk immediately clicked. It was nice having someone else, Hunk was much bigger and stronger then Lance. Hunk was much more mature and observant then Lance. The group headed towards Tennessee.
first dates w/ mark lee

• ok so
• you’re at the mall just minding your own business
• (looking at your phone and not knowing where you’re going tbh)
• when you bump into this boy
• and that’s how you end up with a smoothie all over your shirt
• you’re kind of dazed still from the collision
• but when you snap out of it
• there’s this adorable boy in front of you apologising repeatedly
• avoiding your gaze but you can see the blush on his cheeks
• and you can feel your heart skipping a beat when you make eye contact with him because he’s actually so adorable???

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There’s a Certain Slant of Light, Ch. 1

Based on this post by @gutsybitsies. Title taken from the poem of the same name by Emily Dickinson. No actual Stanley Cups were harmed in the process of writing this fic (please suspend your disbelief; I know the keepers of the Cup would never permit such blasphemies as occur in this first chapter. Thank you for your patience. :))

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine; all credit goes to ngoziu.

ETA: Now also found on ao3!

There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Kent Parson peers down at the Stanley Cup with considerable distaste. Sticky brown caramel is stuck to the rim, and the metal is shiny with oil from the leftovers of the popcorn from Swoops and Mags’s date night—which, like, good for them, Kent had liked every one of their photos on Instagram, but to not have the decency to wash it out afterwards? He thought better of them, he really did.

“Isn’t there a rule or something to prevent this type of blatant desecration?” he complains to Richards, the representative/so-called “keeper” of the Cup from the Hockey Hall of Fame, since the actual Trustees of the Cup are both pushing ninety and can’t be bothered to follow a fancy metal trophy around the world on its adventures with hyped-up jocks.

Richards gives him a look. His eyes are dark and a mix of slightly haunted and completely done with this shit. It’s a look that tells Kent loud and clear that he has Seen Things. “You’re a hockey player,” he says. “You’ve done this before. What do you think?”

Kent grimaces. “But isn’t it common courtesy not to leave clean-up to the next guy?”

“Jeffrey Troy said, and I quote, ‘It’s payback, bitch,’” Richards says, completely deadpan.

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Emperor Junhui AU

Originally posted by beautifulshuas

Anon said: Hi!! <3 can I request for a scenario where Junhui is an emperor, and his parents are forcing him to choose an empress candidate or whatever that is? Thank you <3

How did you know I have the biggest soft side for wen junhui smh 

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anonymous asked:

Ok so we know perceptor is fine with CROC and sunny is like... Not. Who else is more receptive and open to interacting with CROC/humans in general and who is like lmao fuck no. (...who is most likely to develop a human fetish or something and who is the resident kinkshamer/s)

( Melly’s Mod Notes: I should have known this was going to lead towards the ‘who would be down boning a human’ category. I should have known and yet I did not see this coming I am giggling here viewers.

The set of headcanons that mentions Perceptor’s and Suntreaker’s stances on aiding CROC’s research can be found here and here respectively!  )

Who would be receptive

Drift would be willing to help out when the liaison is asking for help. Perhaps be a little too eager during his interactions with them. He means well and tries his best except his best makes some of the more shy members uncomfortable and the more wary member suspicious. When its revealed that he’s Deadlock, there is a blowup among the staff about whether or not they should continue interviewing him. When either the liaison or head point out that the pod is being lead by Megatron without objection - Yeah. People shut their mouths and leave poor Drift be. The liaison makes a note to hang out with him after his interviews to show him photographs and videos of the world he’s never been to yet. They can’t help note that he seems intrigued by Japan the best given all the questions he asks of it.

Wanting to know more about how human medicine works, First Aid will give a round of interviews and testings a shot. In return of seeing how humans look after themselves and others of course. The staff sees nothing wrong with this arrangement and are impressed with how fast he learns human first aid training in a manner of days. The most important thing he learns from his time with the staff is CPR and this is something he teaches to the other podmates in return when he’s certain he knows everything about this method. Finally! The pod can avoid another Skids Incident from happening again.

You know who would be most game for this nonsense? Whirl. Specifically a Whirl who has developed a crush on the liaison and wants to spend much time as he can. Whirl would be clicking his claws and shoving his way to the front of the line every time the liaison dropped by the cay, asking for volunteers. To the utter dismay and horror of the interviewers. At first they thought he’ll be a great interviewee given his unique history and position in some pods like the Wreckers but no. He seems more interested in antagonising the liaison and everyone around him the moment he’s in CROC. He likes to start arguments. He keeps trying to pick fights. He hauls himself out of his habitat tank and flop his way to someone he thinks stared at his claws for too long. Help this poor centre; no one is prepared for this save them.

Who would be ambivalent

Despite his attempts to be cordial and re… re… relaxed around them, Ultra Magnus likes to steer clear of this. It takes up time that could be used in reinforcing rules and conducts that the pod like to ignore. They’re a misbehaving bunch as is and Ultra Magnus dreads to think what they’re like if he’s not around to keep an eye out for them. If CROC is able to secure Verity Carlo as his interviewer than that’s a different story. He’s happy to speak with her and can do so for hours. He allows her to call him Uncle Magnus to the surprise of those recording their interactions. The two seem to have a history between each other though what it is is difficult to explain. The affection he holds for her shows in the way he loves to groom her if she drops by his habitat thank at the centre and she has an hour or so to spare.

Skids, despite his friendly nature, isn’t up for this. He once took a tour of the centre and something about the habitat tanks unnerved him. He isn’t sure why though Rung suspects it might have to do with his repressed memories. The most he’s willing to do with the centre is escort Swerve and Nautica (and sometimes Brainstorm if he opts to tag along with Nautica) by swimming along the boat. Something about seeing his friends being put in the tanks and settled into the boat also makes him uneasy. It’s something the liaison and Rung have noted together and they do their best to reassure him that all is fine, they’ll be safe. Nothing bad will come to them. Promise.

Out of concern that he could hurt the humans, Fortress Maximus will not volunteer himself and keep himself out of sight in order to not catch any eyes. He knows his size alone will impress them and he doesn’t want to be caught in that awkward position of wanting to say no while wanting to not disappoint anyone. He doesn’t have the best control of his temper and he’s certain his incident back in the Lost Light pod had been relayed to the centre. He saw the expression the liaison gave him after he had been restrained and sent to the whirlpool bridge. It’s an expression he knows some humans will have if they see him and it’s an expression he never wants to see again. It’s for the best he stay away and send Cerebros if someone from the Luna-1 pod has to be interviewed. Maybe Red Alert if he feels like the merfish should have new company to tide him over. Maybe Prowl except never Prowl because no one should suffer being around Prowl.

Who would steer away

Megatron out of his own choice and the advice of everyone and their grandmother. No one in CROC would be willing to interview. Go near him at that. Even if the liaison vouched for him and swore up and down that he’s changed, there will be enough staff members who will feel uncomfortable or unhappy at the idea of being at the beck and call of someone who called for their race’s extinction. They’re unhappy to learn of Optimus’ command to place him as co-leader of the Lost Light pod as is. It means they have to care for him through their care of the pod and it rankles others. Enough that some quite upon learning the news or they begged to not have anything to do with the pod anymore. When people are saying they’re willing to work with the Scavengers or babysit Rumble and Frenzy than you know some nerves have been hit hard. Yeah. He should steer clear of this.

Cyclonus likes his privacy and is not comfortable with being prodded and probed like a dumb animal, thank you. While he may have the patience to deal with the endless questions and endless follow up questions, he thinks this isn’t for him and makes it clear when the liaison attempts to reach out for him. The one thing that could get him to agree is if he learns Tailgate is going yet Swerve and Rewind are opting to stay in the cay instead. He claims its because someone needs to keep an eye out for Tailgate but everyone gives each other knowing looks and go yeah Cyclonus whatever you say. To the surprise of some and to the pride of Tailgate, the mershark does his best to be on his best behaviour when staff members are taking his measurements and weight and photos and etc. It helps the staff are very polite to the large and scary mershark because shouldn’t have traits similar to the freaking Mosasaurus and yet he does. He does and the staff have a Great Fear besides Whirl Attempting to Cause a Riot and Brainstorm Getting His Hands on Chemicals.

( Who would develop a human fetish

Swerve. Of course Swerve would have an interest in getting it on with a human. Okay that’s, perhaps, a bit unkind to Swerve. It’s part fetish and part preference that’s built over time thanks to his curiosity of humans. After spending so much time watching them from their seaside villages and coastal towns and ships, he’s developed an infatuation with them. He’s had this long and detailed fantasy of romancing a human and raising hybrids with him visiting their cozy little beach house every spring and summer when the waters are kinder to his minimer body. He may or may not have written this whole fantasy romance of his written down on some scrolls that he likes to keep hidden in a treasure chest. Buried in an island. A remote island. One that he knows and knows alone. No one is supposed to discover okay shhh.

All thanks to Swerve’s influence on him, Skids finds himself rather… intrigued by the notion of being with a human. More of a ‘YOLO why not try one out for a spin’ thing when compared to, say, Swerve’s genuine desire to have a relationship with a human. Skids’ attraction comes from the physical differences between seaformers and humans; he finds himself attracted to pretty/big hair and soft bodies. Doubly so if the hair is dyed in wild colours or there are tattoos or piercings on the body since its fascinating to see how humans decorate and change their appearance. It’s not because he (accidentally!!!) made out with the liaison when he was trying to give them CPR too-!


Who would kinkshame the ones with a human fetish

Of course Rodimus would be a responsible leader and how am I kidding of course it’ll be Ultra Magnus. The moment he finds out about his podmates interest in flirting or dating humans he’s going to stop that nonsense. It’s one thing to try and build a connection with humans. It’s another to try and build a connection with humans by plundering their booties. He’s going to kinkshame everyone until his dying breath so put that shaft back where it came from oR SO HELP HIM- )

Nurse Maximoff (Requested)

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader
Request:@loverollyjoger: Would you want to do number one from the when you’re sick prompt list? For Peter Maximoff? Like where the reader is sick and she’s super independent and doesn’t want him to have to take care of her? (From this prompt list)
Word Count: 1027
Warning: fluff, Peter being a nerd, sickness??
A/N: Idk if sickness counts as a warning, but there is mentions of throwing up/nausea and shit which may bother people. Just something to keep in mind.
Tagging: @notsoprettykitty, @metuel16,
(let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged)

Originally posted by simpinwicv

((gif not mine, credit to owner))

                Winter had come full force, and soon the warm air was a chilled one. Snow piled high out the mansion, and walking beyond the gates was practically skating due to the thick sheets of ice. Most students stuck to the indoors, wrapped up in blankets and big comfy sweaters. The few that dared to travel outside usually were the ones who enjoyed the frigid weather, or regretted leaving the warmth of the mansion instantly. You were among the many hiding away in their rooms. You were hoping to stay warm this winter, and just study for the upcoming exams. But with cold weather, usually came the flu which you had sadly caught. At first it was just a crappy headache a running nose, nothing you couldn’t handle, but then came the nonstop cough and your eyes wouldn’t stop watering. You had wanted to stay in bed till it passed, but there was too much to get done and a cold wasn’t stopping you now.

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A Late Breakfast

Author: @surpeme-bean 

Words: 1,272

Description(ish): Stiles x ofc/ reader 

A/N: i wrote 80% of this in a exhausted writing session that lasted like two hours at 2am (also i didnt really look at this after writing it this so it might be trash) a few days ago because i reached 200 followers !!!!! I saw it and i was like this calls for something cool ,,,,,,, so i wrote this cute lil story for you guys lol also i didn’t know how to end it so that’s why the ending is weird dont be mad at me

A/N part 2: this kinda different from everything I’ve written, its still like a stiles au (i just love him a lot ok) but it’s more focused around descriptions i guess so if you like it tell me and i might write more like this idk I really liked it

thank youuuuu @redstringlovers for being totally fucking awesome and proofreading this, @morethanonefandom bc ur just amazing ok, @susybird for inspiring me to write with everything you post, @lovefilledtragedy for just being another awesome human, i know there’s more but its 4am and im so tired ohmygod 

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing a messy bedroom filled with sunlight. She retreated back into the pillow, sighing loudly in a weak attempt to fall back asleep. She flailed her arm and it landed on the empty half of the bed.

“What?” she sat up fully taking her surroundings, “oh” she muttered and she rubbed her eyes. Her eyes wandered around the room, the walls were fairly neat, only a couple of posters decorated them. Clothes were littered across the floor starting at the door and ending in a small pile at the end of the bed. Finally, she looked at the night stand and noticed her phone that had a bright pink sticky note stuck to the screen.

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Feeling Alive- Part 3

Summary: Dance school!AU (or the Step Up/Pride and Prejudice mash up nobody asked for). Bucky Barnes is forced to take twelve hours of commercial dance classes to pass the year- and that just happens to be your regular weekly dance class.


Part 1 (Slow Hands)

Part 2 (Stay)

There Will Come a Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Chapter 4/?: There Will Come a Time

Word count: 3094

You guys. You’re just amazing. So many of you are sticking around and reading and hopefully enjoying and slkfjlaksjdf I’m just blown away. I’m aiming to finish this by the first of August! That’s doable, right? I feel like I should have mentioned this earlier, but if I were tagging this on AO3 it would be ‘SLOW BURN’. Idk how you all feel about that. But @systemfailuresunshine seems to be enjoying the pain ;) Anyway go forth and read my lovelies! (Feel free to drop me messages/asks or whatever)

The familiar, discordant chimes of your alarm shrill in your ears and you fumble for your phone without even opening your eyes.

“Shut up,” You grumble, as the smooth edges slip out of your fingertips for the third time. “Just, ugh, shush.”

Reluctantly, you crack open one eye and finally manage to stab down on the glowing screen. Silence at last. Unfortunately, you know you can’t roll over and go back to sleep: not unless you want to be late for work. You let out another heartfelt groan and force your eyes all the way open.

The screen of your phone is still lit up, showing two message notifications. You frown and swipe them open. One from your mum, asking when she can call- you quickly type out a reply suggesting this afternoon- and one from a number you don’t recognise.

Steve says that if you don’t reply by 12 we’re breaking down the door

Everything suddenly comes rushing back. Instinctively, you drop your phone on the covers and reach for the back of your head, wincing when your fingertips encounter a sizeable lump. Wriggling your shoulders merits the same reaction, and moving your legs sends a twinge through your hips. General conclusion: ouch. Still, not dead.

“Always a positive,” A dry voice rings through your memories, and you almost smile. Then you reach for your phone again.

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Heartbreak Love

PAIRING: reader x Steve Rogers


WARNINGS: Angst, swearing. 

Request from Anon- Hey love :) I hope I can request an imagine with Captain Rogers where you’re an avenger and fall in love with him but then you see him kiss Sharon and leave the Scene heart broken. What you don’t know, Steve also fell in love with you and the kiss with Sharon didn’t mean something to him. Back at the facility Wanda informs Steve that you left and he immediately tries everything to find you and tell you that he wants to be you to be his one and only? <3 that would be really lovey :) & his POV maybe. 

So this maybe a little it emotional, sorry about that! I haven’t done a an angst in a while, Enjoy (may need tissues idk?) 

GIF NOT MINE:- imagine without the blood mainly for the expression! 

Originally posted by harrleyquinzel

Being in love was one of the most beautiful and once in a lifetime feeling. Nothing compared to it, it was euphoric the feeling was indescribable, to know that another loved you just as fiercely and passionately as you did. To know that they would do anything for you, risk their life you even. Well that’s what you had been told love was like. No one ever told you the feeling of unrequited love, the love that pierced your heart each time you looked at them. The devastating feeling knowing that they would never love you as much as you ever loved them. It was soul destroying, but addictive. 

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Word Count: 1070

Triggers: None

Requested by @hydroartitst444

To say you were surprised when Eliot asked you out was an understatement. Sure, you liked him – a lot – but you were sure the feelings weren’t mutual. Eliot was a player and you weren’t part of the game.

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a silly, fluffy little promptis thing i whipped up for @suggestivescribe 

IT’S VERY SILLY AND FLUFFY AND IDK WHAT I’M DOING but I hope you like it, bae <333

Six hours.

They’ve only been driving six hours, before Ignis insists on stopping for the night. This might have been fine, except Noctis feels as though they’ve made zero progress throughout the day. They spent most of it searching for some dog tag for a guy named Dave. Ignis thinks of a new recipe, which turns out to be delicious, but Noctis can’t help but feel frustrated and antsy, as he lies on his back on the bed in the trailer they rented for the night.

What kind of a name is Dave, anyway?

Noctis frowns up at the ceiling, wishing Ignis would let them keep driving. But no, he says it’s “too dangerous.” Like they aren’t already in danger just being here.

A sudden flash in his eyes causes Noctis to flinch. He blinks away the spots that appear in his vision, turning to frown slightly at Prompto. His friend is leaning over the bed, and he grins, bringing up his camera to take another photo.

“I call this, ‘Noctis Brooding at Midnight.’ Pretty catchy, huh?” Prompto grins, much too bright for how late it is.

“I’m not brooding,” Noctis protests, turning over onto his side to place his back to Prompto. Normally Prompto’s sunny personality can help him feel better, but he’s too exasperated at the time he’s wasting to bask in it.

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evak, I

“There’s something I’d like to talk about.”

Isak reluctantly pulled back from the enticing warmth of Even’s chest and dragged his head onto his own pillow so he could meet the other boy’s eyes. Isak still wasn’t all that fluent in the foreign language of Even’s expressions, but he thought he could identify some level of wariness and nervosity from across the ten inches that separated their faces. “Are you sure? You don’t look like you want to talk about it.”

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anonymous asked:

Tumblr is full of writing tips posts. What is the most stupid and horribly wrong writing tip you've seen here? That possibly made you go 'ffc no, you should never do THAT'

Honestly I see so many horrible fucking writing tips that I often don’t know where to start.

But there’s one I see a lot which has persisted over the years on Tumblr, and would have like…genuine writing teachers responding like this:

And that’s any writing advice that suggests about four million other words you should use in place of the miraculous word said.

There was this trend (it’s thankfully on its way out) of posts that got absurdly Thesaurus happy to suggest a billion other words you could use in place of ‘said’ as though you were in a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle story where characters would ‘ejaculate’ instead of speaking (yes really: ‘I can’t believe it!’ he ejaculated.)

Said is a marvellous word. It’s really an incredible, wonderful word.

The rule for using words like ‘whispered’ or ‘taunted’ or whatever is (and this is not universal): if you can tell what the character is doing from the dialogue alone - use said. If there is no way you can tell tone from the dialogue, consider using something other than said to indicate tone. If you always have to use something else, your dialogue is probably not very good. And if you constantly use a word other than said because of I don’t know…personal vanity or whatever - that’s awesome man I can be guilty of it too, but sometimes it really means that you’re telling your reader the same thing multiple times in different ways and it can get jarring.

Said is a nice, invisible word. It’s mostly just letting people know who is character A and who is character B and who is speaking when. That’s all its for. Invisible words are great in writing! Why? Because they aid reading flow. The invisible words get your reader’s eye to the most important parts of your story.

Dean Koontz used to do this thing where he did great streams of dialogue and omitted all markers of who was speaking. Almost no one liked it, and almost everyone got confused by it. But it was a personal habit of his and he did it for about a decade before he was like ‘wait people really don’t like this‘ (to be fair he could do it for like three solid pages, like seriously imagine this:)

‘I don’t know’
‘What don’t you know’
‘I’m just saying this horrible thing we’re dealing with…’
‘Yeah maybe we could do this to fight it’

FOR THREE PAGES IT GETS CONFUSING. (In short sections it can work). Sometimes how your character talks is not enough to get you through that clusterfuck. Enter the miraculous word ‘said,’ with a name or pronoun in front of it, that just acts as a gentle map for the reader, that goes ‘hey maybe you’re not reading this like it’s an examination for university, and to help you not get lost, here are some words you hardly have to notice to make sure you’re still involved in this story.’

Dean Koontz doesn’t really do this anymore, lol.

Anyway, honestly, I am kind of…against universal writing tips anyway, so any time I see a writing tip post on Tumblr, 9/10 I am usually doing this in response:

And it’s sort of… it’s a few things:

- I think a lot of these posts are written by highschoolers or first year university students who are sort of processing some basic writing rules (that in no way apply universally, culturally or even geographically to all - seriously if an American incorrectly ‘corrects’ my Australian grammar one more time I will reach through the internet and throttle them, we don’t use double quotation marks for our dialogue!) and do that by sort of regurgitating them with their own take and applying them to everyone. It’s awesome they’re learning, but you’re not in their class, and they are not your teacher. A lot of these articles are like post-educational-processing and not actually genuinely helpful writing advice.

- The universality of these tips tends to annoy me. It’s one thing to suggest that most fics on AO3 should have paragraph breaks - that’s basic functionality and accessibility, in the same way that it’s basic to put spaces between words. But it’s quite another to suggest that passive tense is always evil or adverbs are the devil. It’s simply not true. Fucking Pulitzer Prize winners have used both, lol. And they didn’t win in spite of doing these things. It’s one thing to say ‘it can be lazy to rely on this too much’ it’s another thing to say ‘no adverbs! Ever!’

- Sometimes it’s really really really easy to tell when someone has picked up Stephen King’s writing book. Also that book is super fucking ableist. Like most writing books, it’s centred in a whole lot of privilege. Also Chuck Palahniuk’s writing manifesto doesn’t apply to 98% of writers but thumbs up if you’re in the two percent.

- ‘How to write’ is an intensely personal process. Writing tips are like…idk, good to read, but in a light-hearted way. Sample often, discard just as often. Try before you buy (into it). Always think ‘do I know authors who have broken this rule and did I still find them entertaining?’ Almost always the answer is ‘yes.’

- I know a lot of professional writers and editors. Like, that’s my main ‘crew’ online (and in real life, even though I hardly ever see them, but if I see more than four people at once, it’s generally some of the big writing names in Perth and we’re usually bitching about something like how many small publishers can’t stand up to Amazon and not how that one author always uses ‘said’ too much pfft). On Twitter. On Facebook. On Dreamwidth. All I hear about every day is people dropping new books, getting nominated for awards etc. and here’s the thing about professional writers - they rarely share the same kind of writing tips you find on Tumblr, because they’ve learned that a lot of that stuff isn’t universal. 

Most of us are tired of Tumblr articles on how to write (don’t get me wrong, some of them are very very good, and Neil Gaiman has given lovely advice on Tumblr repeatedly - I don’t actually love his writing, but good god, I love him as a giver of writing advice lol since he’s not a homogenising dickbrain about it), most of us are tired of the grammar police, etc.

Anyway I do get impatient about it and it’s one of the few areas - there’s a reason why my ‘on writing’ / ‘pia on writing’ tag tends to feature very specific sorts of writing advice - i.e. focused on encouragement and motivation, over people saying ‘this thing should be universal’ when no, actually, it shouldn’t be.

And my way isn’t the right way either? And that’s why I don’t often share writing tips (though I think I could stand to do it more sometimes, maybe some people want to actually learn to write like me; I don’t recommend it personally lol). Like I break rules because I like the outcome, especially around length and passive tense and long scenes without ‘scene breaks’ and so on. But theoretically Cecilia Dart-Thornton’s The Bitterbynde Trilogy would be trash by some of these writing articles standards and it’s honestly one of the most sumptuous epic fantasy trilogies of all time and the purple prose works and it deserved the awards it won.

So imho, honestly, a lot of those articles can bite me, lol. But especially the ones where people are like ‘hey, have you considered not using ‘said’ and making everything 400 times harder for your reader, just to prove you can use a thesaurus???’

(PS: I talked to Glen about this, who is also a writer (and scriptwriter) and the thing he says he hates the most is: ‘write what you know.’ Totally feel that too.)

fuyunoakegata  asked:

Dick and Tim dealing with Bruce's death, and Tim not being the Robin to Dick's Batman, if it's not too complicated. Some parallels or compare/contrasts in fic form could be fun, though

I finally managed to write something!! This prompt was a bit hard because I can’t really remember canon for the aftermath of Bruce “dying” but I tried. Heavily inspired by these lyrics:

Have you ever been a part of something

That you thought would never end?

And then of course it did

from the song Everchanging by Rise Against (a very Tim Drake song imo). 

Also because the literary nerd in me cannot chill, this one is written in fragmented style to reflected the fragmentation of Tim’s life/world/self after Bruce’s “death” and Robin being given to Damian.

Dick is so caught up in helping Damian deal with Bruce’s death, he barely spends time dealing with it himself, let alone finding the time to check in on Tim as well. Tim gets it, honestly he does, the brat is Bruce’s son and he’s just… whatever he is these days.

(Nothing. You’re nothing.)

It’s not like he needs someone to hold his hand, to tell him everything is going to be okay.

(To lie.)

But… maybe it would be nice? Those things? Tim wouldn’t know; he’s never had that kind of special treatment before.

It’s just a glass case. It’s not even a shrine, like Jason’s is. No memorable words because that wasn’t Bruce’s style. Batman is silent and deadly; Robin is the one with the clever quips and witty one-liners.

Tim wonders why he wasn’t fired earlier. He’s never been funny. Never been clever or witty or good with his words.

He factors hindsight into the formula of his life and decided that Bruce was just taking pity on him. (One more broken child in a long line of slightly-less-broken children.)

But pity has never been Dick’s style.

“I’m telling you - he’s not dead!”

“Tim… I think you should talk to someone.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“No, I mean. A professional. Someone who can help you.”

“You think I’m crazy.”

“No, Timmy, of course I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think… well you haven’t been handling Bruce’s death very well-”

“That’s because he isn’t dead, Dick! Why won’t you believe me?”

It’s funny, that Dick wants to replace everything, everyone, except Batman. Even when someone else, someone who breaks the code, takes up the mantle. It’s only when the rest of them start squabbling over the cowl, fighting like children, like angry little chicks scrapping for mama bird’s attention, that he steps up to the job.

And he starts it off in true Batman fashion: choosing a new Robin.

(Bruce is going to come back, Bruce is going to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, Dick is going to roll his eyes and turn it in a hug. Bruce is going to say, “I’m proud of you, chum.”)

(Damian is going to interrupt the moment by showing up in Robin garb, ready for patrol.)

(Tim is going to be sitting alone in his apartment wondering who else he needs a contingency plan for.)

“Did Dickiebird put you up to this?”

“No. We’re not really, um. I haven’t spoken to him in… I don’t know, a few days.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I am not going to play sympathetic ear to whatever dumbass squabble you two have had.”

“If you’d just listen-”

“Get out.”

“Jason, please-”

“Get the fuck out before I make you.”

Red Robin’s suit is skintight, but it still feels ill-fitting the first time he puts it on. It’s not his suit after all, not really, just like Robin wasn’t really his. He was just a placeholder. A poor substitute. A second-rate replacement.

He feels like a child playing dress-up.

(He snuck into his parents closet, once, when he was very young. Slipped his tiny feet into his father’s fancy shoes and wrapped his mother’s second favourite shawl around his shoulders. Clomped around their bedroom and pretended they were just behind the door of the en suite bathroom, getting ready for a night out as a family.

His nanny had found him trying to knot one of his father’s ties around his neck. She’d yelled at him, smacked him and sent him to his room. It was the first and last time Tim had tried to play dress-up.

Well. Until now.

He feels the same nervous thrill he felt then; knowing he was doing something he probably shouldn’t but doing it anyway.)

Dick - no, Batman - tries to stop him from leaving. Tries to coax him into coming home (wherever the hell that is these days) and talking about his feelings or some shit. Tim doesn’t listen. Doesn’t care.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” His voice is eerily calm even to his own ears. Not really that surprised at being used and abandoned and tossed aside since that’s all his life has ever been. “I’m not Robin anymore, I don’t have to take orders from Batman.”


Tim shrugs his hand off. “Goodbye, Dick.”

(He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Bruce. Didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Robin before it was ripped out of his hands.

Shouldn’t have gotten so complacent. Stupid. Stupid. Basic training: always be alert.

You never know when an ally is going to stab you in the back.)

Bruce’s arms are tight across his shoulders and Tim wants nothing more than to melt agains this chest, fist his hands in Batman’s billowing cape and hide his face against his adoptive father’s neck. Close his eyes and pretend that his costume is still red, green and yellow, that this is just a normal moment on a normal patrol. That his life didn’t get turned upside down and inside out just when he was starting to think it could be good.

Tim’s had a lot of practice at pretending. Pretending to be the perfect son, pretending to be the perfect heir

anonymous asked:

Grimmjow Human AU scenario. Both are similar in attitude but she is better and more willing when it comes to showing her emotional side. A fight between them actually causes her to cry and it hits him like a truck because she's not one to do so. Idk up to you how or what subject they fight about! Angsty but happy ending and a little nsfw 😏 because well it's Grimmjow! Sorry tried to add as much detail for you as possible! Your work is amazing! I love it!❤️❤️❤️

Hi Anon, thank you for the details of what you want and thank you for the compliment. It’s always nice hearing someone appreciates my work! I hope you enjoy this, it’s definitely more angst heavy with a very small dash of NSFW (so small I probably don’t have to tag it as such but will anyway lol).

“What do you mean you’re working “a job” tonight?” you yell.

“Did I stutter? I gotta back log so Aizen’s giving me a break,” Grimmjow growls.

“You mean sending you to break someone! Damn it, Grimmjow how could you let this happen again?”

“It’s not my fault, just a run of bad luck! I’ll pay it off and then get something going-“

“No! You need to stop this! You need to work on your addiction before it gets you killed!”

He slams his fist on the table. “I do not have an addiction! I gamble because it’s easy money, not because I have to!”

“Being Aizen’s bitch is not easy money!”

He surges forward, grabbing you by the throat and almost growling, “I’m no one’s bitch!”

“Like hell you aren’t,” you say, clearly unaffected by his violence, “he crooks his finger and you go running. I swear, it’s like you enjoy being punished!”

Before he does something really stupid, like actually hit you, Grimmjow lets go and walks away.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Grimmjow, you need to start thinking about other people besides yourself, particularly me!”

“This has nothing to do with you!” he shouts turning around.

“It does because we’re in a fucking relationship, Grimmjow! What you do, where you go, who you’re with, all of it ultimately affects me. Same goes from me to you!”

“Like I give a shit what you do or where you go! It’s your life! Do what you want with it!”

“I want to be with you! Doesn’t that mean something to you? Would you even care if something were to happen to me?”

“Of course, but I’m not going to halt my life because you’re paranoid!”

“When are you going to grow up, Grimmjow? Get a real job, start thinking about the future, our future!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I like our live, I don’t want anything different, except for you to lay off!”

“Well, I do want more!”

“Then maybe you should go find it somewhere else!” he shouts.

You step back as if he’s physically struck you, eyes pooling with tears. Even after everything you’ve been through together, after everything you’ve done and sacrificed for him, he’s willing to just toss you aside because you’ve become inconvenient. Well fuck, now not only have you discovered that all the years you’ve been together were a waste, you’re going to cry in front of him. Just great.

Grimmjow watches the unfamiliar scrunching of your face. Are you going to sneeze or something? But then his eyes widen marginally as one tear, then two trails down your cheek, the back of your hand trying to whisk them away but there’s no way to hide them. It’s his turn to step back in shock when you let out a large sob; he’s never seen you cry. Ever.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, moving forward and tugging your hands away from your face, wincing inwardly when he sees the damage; crying is not a good look for you. “What the hell is this? Since when do you cry?” He has no clue what to do, but knows from the look in your eyes this isn’t like all the other arguments and fights you’ve had; the fire is gone replaced with real pain. He finally broke you.

Shoving him away, you storm to the bedroom, pulling out a suitcase. If he doesn’t want you, then you’re not going to waste another second here.

“Wait a minute, what are you doing?” he asks angrily slamming the door sealing you in with him.

You ignore him, shoving clothes haphazardly into your case. Grimmjow watches, arms crossed leaning against the door. Despite the look he saw in your eyes, he’s thinks (insert hopes) this is just for show; that you’re not seriously leaving him.

Done packing and deciding you can just buy whatever you end up leaving behind, you make for the door.

“Get out of my way, Grimmjow,” you say hotly but he won’t move.

“Y/N, come on, we both know this isn’t what you want,” he says reaching for you but you slap him, hand stinging from the impact.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Your voice is hard, harder than he’s heard before.

“Fine,” he says throwing up his hands. He opens the door. “Do whatever the fuck you want, you’re doing me a favor really,” he says, unable to keep words he knows are scarring you from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Like wise, now I don’t have to be up all night until I cry myself to sleep every time you go to that fucking casino, or convince my sister that you’re not cheating on me, or be scared shitless that one of Aizen’s goons is going to come and fuck me up.” You step right up into his face. “Now I don’t have to be in a pointless, one sided relationship.”

As you turn and walk out the door, slamming it for good measure, Grimmjow is left in your wake, heaving heavy breaths. You…cried…every night he’s gone? Cursing, he picks up a vase and throws it across the room, it’s impact against the wall shattering it into a hundred pieces. He doesn’t stop there, taking out all his anger on the knick knacks and “homey” shit you filled this place with to make it more inviting, to make it an actual home. At the end of his rampage, it looks like a tornado went through the place. Packing up his own case, he leaves, not bothering to lock the door because he has no intention of ever coming back here.

It’s almost a year later when he sees you. From what he heard from mutual friends, you left Las Vegas for a while but are back because your mom is sick. He doesn’t know where you are until he happens through a suburban neighborhood. Truthfully, he’s there to rough up some bastard who owes a shit ton to Aizen, but the sight of you makes him pause his steps. You’re at a park, sitting on a bench and near you is some guy with ridiculously orange hair. Grimmjow keeps watching from the shadows of the tree line, eyes narrowing when he sees the douche bag you’re with checking your ass out when you bend over to pick up…a baby?

As you settle the infant in your arms, he feels bile rise in his throat. There’s no doubt in his mind; that is his kid, the bright blue hair a dead giveaway. Poor brat ended up with the recessive gene in his family that turns blonde hair blue. His teeth grit when the orange hair tickles the baby, making him laugh.

Well this shit is going to end, now.

He’s tempted to deck the guy but he has a job to do and can’t risk a public altercation. So biding his time, he waits, waits until he sees which house you enter; cursing as the orange hair follows you in. Noting the number, he goes about his business, expelling his pent-up rage on the man he’s sent to collect from, ending up needing to call an ambulance before leaving so he doesn’t die from his injuries.

That evening, after your son is down for the night, you pick up your book, a cup of tea cooling next to your elbow on the side table. A loud, violent knock makes you jump. Standing up, you look through the viewfinder and hitch your breath; how the hell did he find you?

“Y/N, open the door or I’ll break it down,” he threatens. You know he’ll do it too, so you hastily unlock the deadbolt, pulling the door open just enough to stick your face through but Grimmjow easily pushes his way in. Sighing, you close the door and turn to face him.

“Where’s that punk?” he asks, a dangerous glint in his eyes. You can see his knuckles are scraped up and can only imagine what he’s been up to since you left him 11 months ago.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“Don’t playing fucking dumb with me!” he yells, “That orange haired scrawny kid, where the hell is he?”

“Keep your voice down asshole,” you hiss, pulling him away from the stairs into your den. Shutting the door, you look at him once more. “I’m guessing you were in the neighborhood earlier, I thought I sensed something foul. The “punk” is Ichigo, my friend.”

“Tch, friends don’t look at you the way he does,” he spats.

Your cheeks flush; you’ve been aware of Ichigo’s interest for a while now but haven’t been able to bring yourself to allow anything to happen.  

Before you can respond, Grimmjow is pushing you up against the wall, his mouth covering yours making you squeak. Pulling back, he says, “You’re mine and I know that kid is mine!” He kisses you again, heedless of you pushing on his chest, muffled sounds of indignation swallowed by his lips.

“Grimmjow, no, stop!” you shout when you finally wrench your mouth free and he does, but he won’t let go of you. “Get out of my house, stay away from me and my son!”

“He’s our son and I won’t give up that easily this time,” he says lowly, hand cupping your face. You want to hit him, spit in his face, shout for help but his change in demeanor and tactics startles you to inaction. He goes on, “Y/N, I fucked up royally and things…things are worse now but god…”he leans his head against your forehead, closing his eyes. Barely above a whisper he confesses, “I miss you so damn much.”

“Grimmjow,” you say, slow tears rolling down your cheeks, “I…I never stopped loving you. That’s why I could never let anything happen with Ichigo. He…he’s been a good friend but…it’s only ever been you.”

Wasting no more time, he whirls you around, pushing you down on the couch and covering your body with his own. Eager hands and lips cover all of your body, his movements hurried, as though he’s afraid you’ll suddenly come to your senses and kick him out of your life for good. His tongue against your throat pulls a gasp from you lips, a moan following when he squeezes your exposed breast gently.

Before he can get you fully undressed the sound of crying stops both your motions.

“I have to go to him-“you begin but Grimmjow pushes you back down gently, standing up himself.

“I’ll bring him to you, stay here,” he commands.

When he returns, bundle in his arms not crying anymore, you start to again. You know things aren’t going to be easy but you love him and you know, even if he hasn’t said it yet, he loves you too.