I have just stood before the open window of my bedroom and I have breathed in deeply all the honeysuckle-perfumed air, the sunshine, the snowdrops of winter, the crocuses of spring, the primroses, the crooning pigeons, the trills of the birds, the entire procession of soft winds and cool smells, of frail colors and petal-textured skies, the knotted snake greys of old vine roots, the vertical shoots of young branches, the dank smell of old leaves, of wet earth, of torn roots, and fresh-cut grass, winter, summer, and fall, sunrises and sunsets, storms and lulls, wheat and chestnuts, wild strawberries and wild roses, violets and damp logs, burnt fields and new poppies.
Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934 (Mariner Books, 1969)
Asshole Jungkook, Jealousy, Angst if you squint, Eventual lovemaking, Slight Good Boy Jungkook, Muscle Pig makes an appearance, for those who want an emotional fap, Slight Dom Reader, Jeongguk likes that ass, in which Jeongguk really sucks at romance, but is good at fucking, etc etc
Word Count: 5.9k+
Jungkook could love you, if he would only let you show him what love really was.
“Can I have a smut jungkook when he is very arrogant and he thinks he have any girl but you decide to show him if the another girl had sex with him you want to do something differently like make love with him?”
Here you go, babe. Enjoy. Title is based off of a song by Blackbear, it’s a 10/10 recommended listen.
Title: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Twelve) Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU, Slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers Words: 4571 Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.
Author’s Note: I’m sorry if you’ve been waiting for this. So much has happened and I won’t bore you with my excuses. Just know that I would have done it sooner if I could have.
seventeen as things my friends have said in our first semester of college
stop chugging the fireball you've already thrown up twice.
the dining hall food tastes like ass and i will not eat it anymore. i'm boycotting it. all of my money is going to chick-fil-a, i don't even care.
i was a good kid once. smart. productive.
i love hoodie alley! -it's hoodie allen- hood allen!
slap the bag! slap the bag! fuck, not that hard, it's spilling everywhere!
we sat at the drive through, staring out the car windshield, silent, because we thought they had called the cops on us because it was taking forever and the car smelled like straight up dank. turns out, he was just making us fresh fries.
please stop swinging the bowl of queso around, you're going to spill it in my drink and i'm paying an entire dollar for it.
*directed at the Waffle House waitress* and i /did/ puke in your bathroom, by the way, but these eggs are really good and you're definitely getting a big tip, also do you by chance sell ibuprofen here because i think i might be dying.
-why did you throw the blunt out the window?!- i thought it was a cigarette butt okay fuck!
yeah i have to read enrique iglesias for GEP. -you mean enrique's journey?- whatever, same thing.
i need cute underwear. he's asking for booty pics and i can't find my fucking cute underwear.
i'm learning. i'm engaging my brain. dude, i'm /intellectual/.
is there an american flag on the ceiling? -no, but i see the weed has kicked in.
Summary: This is a 3x20 parallel fic I’ve had ruminating for a while since the above picture was release by Guggie. In 3x20, Felicity told Oliver what he needed to hear to get through the dark days with the league, and here I try to do something similar, but with Felicity being the one who’s facing the dark.
The dank, wet smell doesn’t bother her as much as it should. Instead it reminds her of the foundry back in the old days when it was just her, Oliver, and Diggle…when things were simpler, when she had a grip on who she was. The momentary memory lapse is a stark contrast to the present.
As her arms wrap around herself, and her hands fidget with the sleeves of her sweater, she can’t help but think about everything that led her to this moment in time. It’s such a clear path, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.
The last person she expected to follow her into this dark abyss pulls her from her recriminating thoughts.
“Felicity, you can’t do this.”
She watches him rub his hand across his forehead in frustration, fatigue, weariness…the past few weeks were taking their toll on him. She hates to pile on more, but she’s determined.
“I have to Oliver. Helix is my responsibility now.”
This Chapter is longish, almost 3000 words. And rough guys, it was hard to write, hard to edit, hard to re read. Trigger warnings– sexual assault (discussed/threatened) violence, people die. Violent!Peter is not to be fucked with, and he goes to a pretty dark place. So… be warned lovelies. This is no longer our light hearted little fic it once was.
That being said, I’d also REALLY like to know what you think because zero feedback on a chapter makes me nervous! I have some very specific reasons for writing certain parts of this the way I did, so feel free to drop by my ask box with any questions!
If you need to catch up, here’s the MASTERLIST ***************************
God it hurts. Peter knew without opening his eyes that he was tied to a chair, his arms forced back in an uncomfortable stretch, his legs tied down as well. Definitely wasn’t at home any more, not that there would be much left of their house after that explosion, but he could smell the dank and damp of a subterranean basement and that made him nervous.
Everything hurt so badly, from his head where it had smashed into the floor, clear down to his feet, probably burned from the blast since he had been barefoot.
He had been thrown into the second bedroom when the rocket blew, landing on the bed for a split second before he had managed to flip it over on top of himself and curl into a ball, trying to avoid the worst of the debris.
He didn’t remember getting dragged it of the house, or the ride to wherever he was now, but everything fucking hurt and he couldn’t help groaning when he tried to lift his head.
Thank god Wade is here too. “Wade?” He licked his lips and gingerly straightened up. The Alpha was tied to a chair several yards away, ankles and hands shackled, rope wrapped around him several time to keep him immobile.
“Oh fuck baby boy I wasn’t sure if you were okay.” Wade tried to lean forward to get a better look at him. “Been calling your name for hours, I was so worried you weren’t going to wake up. You okay? Just banged up? You alright? I am going to kill these guys, Peter I swear to god.”
So this angsty, evil monster fiction was inspired by a very heart-wrenching convo with @stevemossington and @forfutureglory. We needed puppies afterwards, and you might, too.
It’s been two weeks since she died. Two heavy-hearted weeks, during which he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t even breathe (or at least, he doesn’t remember breathing, anyway). He can’t taste. His fingers are numb, he can’t touch. His heart seems to have frozen in place and forgotten how to beat.
The basement, which he hasn’t dared enter since the night she left, is dark. Nancy is by his side, attired in a lace black dress which reaches her knees. She places her hand on his shoulder. “Mike? Are you…?”
“No. Yeah. I’m good. Totally good.”
She looks down at him with the same expression she’s been bearing for a while. It’s pity, mixed with some form of awe and admiration. “I’ll be here,” she whispers.
Mike nods. That’s enough for him just then. Her solidarity brings him some form of courage. So he takes a deep breath and begins his descent of the stairwell to the basement, his sister lingering a few steps behind. The light is on down below, and he can hear his friends muttering among themselves.
It doesn’t take much for his heart to break these days. Seeing them, though — that does it.