ten years of tears

Listen, Taylor’s happiness is everything okay? That woman for the last ten years, has given hear blood, sweat and tears to this world. She pours her heart out to us all, puts her entire being into her music. She bares her soul to the entire world. That woman deserves every single damn ounce of happiness this world has to offer, because she offers it to us every single damn day.

02. we don’t talk anymore

Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff, BestFriends!AU, Artist!Jeon

Ever since he had seen you play the piano for your music class, he’d been inspired by the complete look of tranquility that conquered your features as your fingered danced across the keyboard. He had made that tranquility his soul purpose of drawing. He dreamt of capturing that expression and gifting it to you.

Late nights, he was used to.

Sleepless nights, he was also used to.

But missing you was something he was not.  

These feelings were something completely foreign to him. As Jungkook tossed and turned every night, thoughts of you with him invaded his mind suffocating him. As he sat in his bedroom alone, his eyes frantically searched the room desperately trying to find traces of you. However, his effort was pathetic, it had been months since you’d been in here. Months since you’d seen him and months since he’d seen you. One would say he could always browse your Instagram or Facebook to see you but that was his biggest dread. Fear gripped him by the throat at the thought of stumbling upon a picture of you with him on any of his social networks. 

Jungkook glanced at his alarm clock, the glowing numbers letting him know it was just past 3am. The ungodly hour, you would call it. He smirked to himself remembering how you’d told him this was Satan’s time to lurk and if he was ever up he should go straight back to sleep or call you so you could sing him back to sleep. However, that never happened. It was always him who would sing you to sleep then he’d fall asleep himself to the sound of your soft breaths, wishing he was holding on to you instead of the electronic device.

He glanced at his phone which rested on his bedside table. It had been untouched and utterly dead for days. No one contacted him after you and he didn’t want to contact anyone but you. You were—are his everything. He reluctantly plugged his phone into the charging port. He should probably contact his family, let them know at least through text that was he was fine. His family were used to silence from him, he was an artist. When he was inspired, he would spend weeks attempting to finish his work in complete seclusion, all distracts turned off or turned away. Everyone was evicted from his work space, except you.

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“I wanna mark you up.” Steve’s voice is rough, maybe a little unsteady, and Tony decides that he likes it. “Wanna mark you and bruise you so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours though.” Despite such firm words, Tony is drawing his fingers through Steve’s hair. He misses the blonde, but this darker color, this brown is beautiful and makes his blue eyes glow. “I’m not.”

“Weren’t you mine once?” And now Steve sounds vulnerable, uncertain, and it’s a sharp contrast to the way he is still rocking into Tony, the way he is pressing between his legs.

“Once.” Tony admits. “I was completely yours.”

“Pretend with me.” Steve whispers. “Remind me what it’s like to be yours.”

“Were you ever actually mine?” Tony asks and Steve stills on top of him, ceases those body drugging kisses and the mind blanking touch of his hands.

“Tony. I was yours from the minute I saw you.”

“The first time you saw me I was cursing a blue streak because I’d stepped in mud and ruined my favorite shoes.”

“And I was yours.” Steve drops his head, taking Tonys lips in a searing kiss, licking into his mouth almost desperately, his teeth dragging Tonys bottom lip. “Tony, I was yours. Never stopped wanting you, loving you. Not once. I’ve never lied to you, Tony. Ask me. Ask me again.”

Tony hates that he’s tearing up, because ten years should have erased all this, but it DIDNT and it both pisses him off and breaks his heart.

“Ask me again.” Steve whispers.

“Were you mine?” Tony asks, and it’s barely audible, just quiet words beneath a dark sky. “Were you?”

“Always.” Steve answers, just as quietly, and this time when he kisses Tony it’s soft and sweet. “Still.”


“Forever.” Steve is suddenly stripping them, rolling them over onto the blankets, bringing Tony astride him.

“Stay with me Tony.” He murmurs as Tony wraps a hand around him and prepares to sink down over his length. “Stay with me. Don’t go back to the city.”


“Please, honey. Please.”

Steve cried out to the night sky when Tony took him all, when he was suddenly engulfed in that sweet body. “Tony, please.” He begged. “Stay with me.”

Tony bent down to kiss him, and smiled. “Steve, I—”



Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales International Trailer

Aka the one where Elizabeth Turner, née Swann shows up

Warm Me Up ch. 37

This one is shorter but that’s because it was not only hard to write, but I was also listening to some painful songs. I could read over it or elaborate without opening my own can of worms so…. Mediocrity will have to do for this one. Sorry, but thank you for reading. 

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 36


It had been a restless night. As Nico slept, Will would hear sudden shuddering breaths- the aftermath of crying so much before falling asleep. Will struggled to wrap his mind around all the pain Nico faced. He didn’t want to let him go even when Nico groaned and tried to pull away in his sleep because it was hot and he was sweaty. Will couldn’t sleep well. Not after hearing everything Nico had lived through.

“Thank you for saving me.” Those had been the last words Nico uttered before falling into his fitful sleep. As if it had been because of Will that Nico overcame everything. As if Will had been the one picking him up each time something happened. As if Will had been the one to keep him alive this long.

Nico had no idea how strong he was. He had no concept of the strength he held in himself. The resilience. Will knew that not everyone would’ve made it to college in Nico’s circumstances. He knew that not everyone would’ve been able to live on their own. He knew that not everyone would’ve been able to make it through such a toxic environment. But Nico had.

Nico had pushed through, and he was here, in the same bed as Will, breathing, rosy-cheeked. Sleeping, he looked younger. Not at peace, not completely. There was still a furrow in his eyebrows and a slight frown in his parted lips. But he didn’t look like a 19 year-old who had grown up almost completely alone and all too quickly. He looked smaller, more vulnerable.

Will wondered vaguely how many people had woken up to Nico. How many people had slept beside him and seen the same sleeping face? Then he wondered if any of them appreciated and loved the sight as much as Will did. He wondered if any of them looked at Nico with the amount of wonder Will felt. If any of them had any idea how incredibly strong Nico was.

Something told him nobody ever had.

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anonymous asked:

First sentence challenge, Ignoct: Knuckles white, he shut his eyes and bit back his tears.

Heeeey…I hope you like pain because wow. Damn. This is p a i n f u l. 

I took some liberties with this because I can and who doesn’t love a little tweak here or there?


Word count: 560:

Knuckles white, he shut his eyes and bit back his tears. All these ten years, he had known what Noctis’s fate had been, what was going to happen once he emerged from the crystal. That time wasn’t enough; he didn’t think there would have ever been enough time to prepare him for it.

Ignis choked, damning the Astrals as his forehead rested on Noctis’s knee, uncaring of the blood that had trickled down from the wound and seeped through the leg of his trousers that would later smear across his skin. ‘A gift’ they had called it when he awoke to the sunlight washing over the Citadel, vision restored. It wasn’t one-hundred percent – he would never fully regain vision in his left eye, but he didn’t need it to see what else the light left him. His feet had carried him faster than he could ever remember running in his life, clinging to some childish hope that once he arrived at the throne room Noctis would be sitting there, waiting for him, smiling with arms open in a warm welcome.

He had only been half right.

Noctis was there, upon the throne, but the welcome was far from warm. Despite the sunrise, the light drained from the room. Distantly, Prompto and Gladio’s voices called out for him, but all Ignis could hear was the light, clear sound of Noctis’s laughter playing in his memories as he ascended the stairs in slow motion.

“Tell me you love me,” an eight-year-old Noctis demanded through a cheeky grin, refusing to go to sleep. Ignis rolled his eyes, but concealed a smile behind the pages of the astronomy book he had been reading to him.

“Very well. I love you, Prince Noctis.”

Ignis felt his heart hammer in his chest.

“Tell me you love me,” a sixteen-year-old Noctis beamed at him from behind the wheel of his brand-new car and waggled his eyebrows.

“Fine, I love you. Now pull over.” Ignis commanded as he continued to clutch the dashboard and Noctis tossed his head back with a loud, beautiful chorus of laughter.

There was so much blood. How could one person have so much blood? The squelch of the substance beneath his boots was drowned out by more memories.

“Tell me you love me,” a twenty-year-old choked into his chest the morning he awoke from his fight with Leviathan. Everything hurt, and he didn’t need to see to know that Noctis was crying. Ignis ran his fingers through his hair, reassuring.

“I love you more than anything.”

A hard chill raced up Ignis’s spine, and part of him was thankful that he couldn’t see Noctis’s cold eyes. He’d much rather remember them as the bright, beautiful storm blues he had always found himself lost in.

“Tell me you love me,” a thirty-year-old Noctis whispered a few hours ago as he lay beside him in the tent, arms holding too tightly and breathing too deep. Ignis kissed his forehead, then his lips.

“I will always love you, Noct.”

His knees hit the floor and his hands shook, knuckles white as he clung to Noctis’s icy dead hand. Try as he might to bite back tears, he knew it was futile.

“Tell me you love me,” he pleaded, but silence was his only response, and the sob that tore from his throat echoed through the Citadel.

Five Sentence Fics are CLOSED.

Send me a pairing and the first sentence and I’ll write you a drabble.

First Sentence Drabbles Master List

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part I)

Part I – “And in my chest you know me best”


Claire was born to me the day I buried my mother. As Ellen Fraser’s body started the trajectory from life to dust, my tears - mingled with the punishing earth that had swallowed her - started the alchemy that made finding her possible. Inevitable. She was the cure for the disease that would afflict me, relentlessly, for years - she was the decisive matter elapsed from my grieving heart.

Too bad celestial bodies have no clue about the translational movements and light-years between them – how they will overcome it all to collide and change the cosmos. And so we had been too – oblivious of the outcome of a somber day in a forlorn graveyard in Scotland.  

I was ten years old and stood alone in front of the fresh patch of soil, revolved to embrace another tale’s end about humanity. The air was filled with the smell of carnations and moss – a cemetery being just another form of garden, after all. Seeds of broken hopes and shortened lives, springing into the sky in white marble tombstones, akin to eternal sprouts. My father had taken Jenny away, to wait in the car – they longed to go home, to feel the scarce comfort of the beloved ghosts of Lallybroch.

I don’t know why I stayed behind. Maybe I wanted to tell her something, too personal or too foolish to be told in the presence of others; perhaps I just feared to leave her alone, abandoned in a place where no one would hold her hand, as she had held mine countless times before. Standing there it was all too real and definitive – I couldn’t pretend she had gone on a voyage or build up a story about her laughter spread on a different house somewhere. She was definitely gone – dead - and that meant that millions of aspects of my life had died with her.

I think it was raining – being Scotland, odds are that it was. I remember the moistness on my cheeks, reminding me I still had skin to form boundaries around my loss – rain or tears, because at ten years old crying was the most visceral form at expressing what is bigger than words. I wiped them stubbornly, furiously, irrationally mad at myself.

“You can cry, you know.” A voice echoed, haunting as the croak of a raven, close enough to make me startle. I looked around and saw a girl, as young and misplaced as myself. She was shorter than me, but probably a bit older – her eyes reminded me of butterscotch, sweet and forbidden. Her hair was a riot of curls and unlike the lasses I knew she hadn’t tried to tame it by placing a bow or a headband on it. Her face was strikingly beautiful and she was serious, even if there were hints of softness there.  “It’s alright to cry.” She repeated in a perfect English accent, nodding in encouragement.

“What are ye doing here?” I asked, more decided than ever to stop crying – and failing miserably.

She raised her brows and shrugged slightly, her scrawny shoulders moving underneath her blue woollen sweater. “Visiting.” She answered, as if it was perfectly normal to be strolling across a cemetery on a Sunday morning. “Who died?”

Her bluntness made me shook in repressed grief – but there was something irresistible about her, so I answered through clenched teeth. “My mother.”

“Oh.” Her eyes darkened, just a bit – like caramel that had marginally passed the perfect point, turning slightly bitter under the heat of the stove. “I’m sorry.” And in her voice I detected a true empathy about my loss, which went beyond every void word and gesture I had received during my mother’s wake the previous day. “Was she sick, then?”

“No.” I blinked away a new bout of warm tears. “She was pregnant.”

The girl nodded in unspoken understanding – she seemed to be remarkably sensitive and perceptive. She licked her lips and looked straight at me again, a soft smile dawning on her pretty-shaped mouth. “Crying will definitely help. I’m sorry to say the pain won’t go away – but it will be transformed into something you can use. And each day it’ll get a little easier not to cry anymore.”

“How do ye ken that?” I said a bit harshly, pursing my lips in bitterness. I was convinced, as most people of that age would, that my story was unique and my pain the worst in history – no one ever hurt the way I did.

She sighed and turned around, preparing to leave – my stomach contracted at the thought of being left alone again, to discover by myself what to do with my grief – but she urged me to follow her. “Come with me.”

I obediently followed her, my feet dragging numb at my command. We dodged tombstones, making our way through a path filled with mud and scattered flower petals. Eventually, we came around an ancient mausoleum – built to be the ultimate house of a great poet, who would probably frown upon such ostensive arrangements – and arrived at two black stones, placed neatly together as sleeping twins.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.*” - It read bellow the name “Henry Beauchamp”. The other one was marked with “Julia” and a simpler phrase was her epitaph – “We loved, so we were.”

“What’s your mother’s name?” The girl asked, kneeling in front of the stones with ease. I noticed how her fingers sought to touch the marble, a caress undoubtedly repeated hundreds of times before.

“Ellen.” I babbled, desperately thinking if I should kneel next to her to show my respect, but deciding against it – I dinna wish to trespass her sacred space.

“Hello Mama! Hello Dad!” She said cheerfully to the stones. “I was wondering if you can take care of a woman named Ellen? You know, show her whatever you do in the afterlife?” The girl waited, as if giving them time to answer. “Her son misses her, but he looks strong – I think he’ll manage just fine. Tell her I’m watching over him.”

“Do ye do that often?” I asked, mouth slightly open in bewilderment. “Talk to them?”

“Not really.” She patted one last time the stones and got up, offering me a defiant glance. “Only when it’s really important.”

“Hmm.” I croaked, placing my hands inside my pockets. “Do ye really think they listen?”

“It’s not so much for them, as it is for me.” She whispered and smiled, content of sharing her secret. “Either way, they haven’t failed me so far.”

“I thank ye.” I whispered, as she touched my shoulder with her small hand. It was a brief contact but enough to root me, to ground me – like a force field that would, in time, make my scattered pieces fit together again.

“I’ll see you around.” The girl announced, beginning to walk towards the gate of the graveyard. She stopped and waved at me, her curls dangling around her face, strangely luminescent in a place robbed of all light.

Only hours later, lying on my bed – hearing the distant muffled sobs of Jenny in the room down the hall – I realized I never asked her name. I wondered if I’d see her again someday – as I held on to the guiding wisdom she had borrowed me from her own experience of loss.

For years she was there, in the background of my mind – a memory of light in the most terrible of days. Our encounter was so uncanny that it became a dream half-remembered, that I struggled to keep in my hours of wakefulness.

It would take me ten years to find out her name.


*The Great Gatsby

The title is part of the lyrics of the song “No One Knows Me (Like The Piano)”, by Sampha.

What Sammy Needs

Title: What Sammy Needs

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1760

Warnings: Fluffy romantic angst….that’s a thing right?

A/N: This just sorta came to me while I was drinking with @atc74 and as soon as I wrote it I queued it up, so sorry for any and all errors! Enjoy!!!

Sam Winchester…where do I even begin?

The two of us, we go way, way back. Like his mom used to hunt with my mom, way far back.

Of course, I never knew this until just now.

I’ll always remember the first time I really met him. I mean, we met as babies and got along, but that’s not hard to do.

Getting along as angsty teenagers that are forced into a car with their dads? Yeah…it didn’t go super well.

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A Favor Part 1

Characters: eventual Reader x Sam

Words: 2569

Summary: Minutes before the Reader’s ten years are up, a stranger comes and offers her her soul back, and then asks for a favor.

This is my official 600th one shot!! Thak you all so much, all of you. Okay, this is from a prompt I saw a long time ago, and wanted to write it into a story. And well, it turned into a series. so enjoy part one!! ;)

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anonymous asked:

i hope this makes sense but,,, what do u think r traits kind of overlooked/not talked about as much about the lords? like,,,, yukimura is always precious cinnabun but i feel like nobody talks about him being serious? idk does this make sense lol

Hm… kind of like, there are very prominent character traits each lord has, but what are the ones we don’t talk about as much? Or that’s what I’m getting from this ask LOL. I guess I’ll answer this the way I interpreted your ask, so I hope this works ; v ; I’ll a random few lords, I suppose?

  • Yukimura: I agree in that I think he’s too often heralded for his innocence in romance, I’d say? If I had to say something that might be overlooked, I think that Yukimura is actually much more attentive than we give him credit for. He’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, no, but he very much holds onto all the information he receives very well. Though he can be a bit slow to get the picture, once he does have it, he is always very aware of the things he’s learned and frequently puts them to practice. Though he’s a bit, uh, enthusiastic in his method, he always has your best interest at heart and tries to pay attention very closely when he can.
  • Saizo: Hm… I guess I’d say Saizo’s best known for being Brooding Bad Boy 24/7 tbh lmFAO. You’ve already heard me talk on how secretive he is and we all know well enough that he’s got enough attitude and moodiness on him for at least three people. But if we’re talking things we don’t bring up, I think Saizo is someone who feels far more deeply than he likes to let on. Sure, it is very easy for him to detach himself from many situations, but if it has anything to do with people he is somehow close with, it will tear him to shreds. It’s been ten years, and he still visits cherry blossom trees every year for the friend he killed–he holds onto things so, so tightly and hardly ever wants to let them go, though he’d never admit to that (why do you think he refuses to ever let go of the past? lmao). I guess in that sense, I’d definitely say I think Saizo’s actually a little clingy lol.
  • Hideyoshi: The most obvious traits for this guy… probably has to do with being relatively happy-go-lucky and… maybe being a notorious flirt? I’m not too sure how the fandom views Hideyoshi in general LOL. But if anything, I don’t see it often mentioned that Hideyoshi has a lot of internalized guilt and hatred towards himself. Now, it’s definitely something sort of hinted at, but this didn’t really set in for me until I recently read his Noble end–Hideyoshi is so intent on putting the entire world on his shoulders, but he also has no idea what to do with that weight. He wants a peaceful world for his friends and family to live in, but he is also very hyperaware of the things he has done in attempts to achieve that world he craves so badly. He never forgets things, even if they weren’t entirely of his doing, and I think he definitely has a hard time forgiving himself for much of anything.
  • Masamune: Also another character who I think we know rather well for his innocence in love, and perhaps otherwise his generally gentle nature with people he is close to. Though I think we’re all well aware that he’s cold, I think Masamune’s a bit brattier and hotheaded than his first impressions ever are. Though he’s shown he can be rather level-headed, Masamune’s been shown a good handful of times to let his emotions get the better of him, and his pride is a lot more fierce than he might like to let on. He’s a stubborn ass, and the Unspoken Ties event where he refused to apologize to Kojuro (and of course, Shigezane knocked the shit out of him for that lmao) was probably one of the most prominent moments I’ve ever seen it. Though that makes me like him all the more though… my son… LMAO
The Tree of Life - One Thing (Part 2)

Chapter Summary: Steve comes back to see you for the second day in a row. The two of you grow closer. You start to wonder if this is what it feels like when you have as soulmate.
A/N: Heeere’s part two!!! <3 Ps. When do you guys think that Cas will tell you that his name isn’t Steve????
Pairing: Castiel x Reader (Eventual)
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, light language.
Word Count: 2,647

Music to set the mood: One Thing - Finger Eleven


Originally posted by dustydreamsanddirtyscars

“Alright well, he was cute so, if you’re not going to-” She said teasingly, and you looked up at her with your eyebrows raised- “That’s what I thought.”

She offered you a smiled and stood up, giving you a see you tomorrow nod as she made her way out.

You set your elbows up on the table and rested your head in your hands. There was no way you could do this. He probably didn’t even see you that way. But you gave him your number. And he hugged you.

Either way, this was going to be a long week.


The next day was much busier. You’d worked up a good sweat from working your ass off all day, and all you could think about was how ready you were for Beth to come take over for the evening. On busy days, she always came to take over for you. She was the only person you trusted to handle your food.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead with your arm and praised yourself for not forgetting to pull your hair back into a ponytail that morning. It may have been autumn but with the sun out, it was still pretty warm.

You’d always heard that working with food meant you would want to eat all day. Right now, you couldn’t disagree more. You knew the food you made was good, sure, but you couldn’t even fathom eating it right now even if you had to.

You glanced up at your clock. 3:00pm. Finally.

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It Should Have Been You

Here is my first fic for Angst Appreciation Day

Warning: Seriously? It’s Angst

Words: 1701

This one was requested by @charliebradbury1104:  I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for in regards to angst suggestions, but I’ll tell you one of the most angst filled moments in the shows history for me. When Charlie was killed and at her pyre, Dean looked at Sam and said “That should be you up there, not her.” I also don’t think I’ve ever read anything written around that scene. Hope this helps.

           You leaned back against your car as you watched Dean get out of the Impala. You wondered how many times he had rebuilt her since you had last seen him. It had been a really long time.

           Dean smirked slightly, “Garth didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he said.

           “Probably didn’t tell you there isn’t really a hunt either, huh?” you asked in return, “He tricked us.”

           “Did we get ‘Parent Trapped’?” he asked.

           “Looks like it,” you nodded.

           “He’s been bugging me to talk to you,” Dean said.

           “Yeah. He keeps telling me to talk to you too,” you hadn’t moved from where you stood against your car.

           “He gave me your note.”

           “He told me.”

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So one of my managers is a hard ass. I like her and everything but if a customer complains about me and I genuinely have had enough with the stupid/petty complaints or it was a time that I was actually working hard, then I might cry a bit. I’m sensitive. So is my mom. And so are other people who were born with more feelings than a rock. But she has this mentality of “act like an adult and stop crying”. And she’ll sarcastically ask me if I need a hug. Like….no i don’t need a hug. I need you to leave me alone and stop hovering over me. I’ll get over it but can I be allowed to feel a tad hurt about it? I honestly care about what customers think of me (…well at least most of them) and I’d like to think that it helps me do my job better. I hate it. Just because I can get a bit sensitive doesn’t mean I’m not an adult. She’s only a year older than me, but she has a son. So I guess she feels like she’s ten years older than me but still, just because someone sheds a tear or shows that they have an emotion doesn’t mean they’re not an adult and/or weaker than you.

hi. hello. so this fic isn’t finished or even polished. this is really just kind of like a preview of a fic, i guess? but i’ve been working on it in the background for a while - it’s my “i’m frustrated with all of my WIPs so i’m going to work on this instead” fic, but i thought i would send the first couple thousand words out into the world and see if anyone likes them.

this fic’s working title is “kent parson’s imaginary cat (and other adventures)” and originally it was going to be a funny 5+1 thing about how kent’s cat is terrible and hates everyone, but then?? idek what happened. actually, i do know. what happened is that brevity is not my strong suit and also i started thinking too long and hard about what happened to the other friends that kent and jack had in the Q and what they thought about everything that went down. then i wanted to write about a former Q teammate being traded to the aces and re-uniting with kent. and also kit purrson being mean to said teammate.

okay, well anyway, please have this first chapter-ish of a troyson fic that i may or may not ever finish. (your encouragement would go a long way.) it’s really for @zimmermaenner :)

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anonymous asked:

i wonder like three years later, how would jk develop as a person. i feel like when he matures and gain more confidence, he'll be even more /alpha/. just thinking about it makes me diZZY

Anon: i feel like the muscle pig nickname for jungkook is particularly extra attractive damn

Anon: not really a question, but i just rewatched the vlive where namjoon talks about wings and i got so emotional when he talked about jungkook crying and saying he doesn’t want the other members to be in pain, i just– i love jungkook so much :’( sorry to bother you with this but i don’t have anyone to talk to about bts and i know you love jungkook too

There are a lot of animals fans associate with Jungkook, the most common ones being wolf, rabbit, black panther (why is this a thing? in both Korea and overseas??), and …pig. And out of all of those, I never thought that calling someone a muscle pig could be attractive. JJK has proven me wrong.

But what I think makes Jungkook really manly, more than his muscles and more than just his good looks, is something that you brought up - his development as a person. Watching him transition into adulthood with the sort of humility and poise that he has shown both on and off stage is humbling. He’s somehow both unabashedly ambitious but totally grounded at the same time. He gives equal attention to all of his passions in life, and there’s nothing too small or too big for him to conquer. And what’s more, he’s full of heart. He has nothing but love for his hyungs, his family, his fans, for music - every. single. aspect in his life, he does it out of love, with love.

I mean, I don’t need a crystal ball to know that he’ll be more manly in the future. It’s going to be great and I’m definitely going to cry ugly tears. But three, ten years from now, I hope that that spark he has for life, that overwhelming love he holds for every person, every challenge, and every passion - won’t fade.  

The Night We Met

A/N: so I tried to write fluffy but this song made me think other wise. The song is in italics and it is the night we met by lord huron (yes 13 reasons why)
Pairing: Steve X Reader
Warnings: major character death and hint of sex
Word count: 1162

Originally posted by captainbuckybarness

I am not the only traveler
Who has not repaid his debt
I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again
Take me back to the night we met

It was a simple night on the town with your best friend. You had plans after work. Go out for dinner, go to Stark’s party, and get drunk off your head. Tony Stark was a friend of Nat’s, they are both apart of the avengers. You were just a normal shield agent, nothing more, nothing less. You were apart of Coulson’s team. He treated you as family instead of work associate like your old team leader did. You were all family. 

You got to the party with Nat after their two of you had dinner and decided to catch up. You had been away for quite some time and you were back just in time for Tony’s birthday party. You had met Clint before so it was no surprise when he showed up. He started talking to Nat about important stuff, you think. You excused yourself and went up to the bar to get another drink. 

It was weird, you didn’t expect the Captain of all people to be drinking. But he was. You had always admired Captain America, so when he started to talk to talk to you, your stomach had butterflies. The two of you were talking for hours. Nat and Clint watched the two of you chat with each other making bets. This was the night you met Steve.

And then I can tell myself
What the hell I’m supposed to do
And then I can tell myself
Not to ride along with you

A couple of months on you and Steve were still talking to each other. It was obvious to everyone that there was something between the two of you. Tony had kept hinting at Steve to ask you out. So he did. Just not on a date, but on a drive. You gladly accepted. 

He came over on his motorbike which you didn’t foresee. You were never a big fan of thing with less than four wheels. Despite your feelings you climbed on the back of his bike and he drove. He drove for over an hour before you arrived at the place he wanted to take you. It was a forrest. He laid down the blanket he took and you both sat on it. You lay next to each other looking at the stars together. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” You heard Steve ask, you quickly sat up and looked at him. He started to panic “did… did I ruin it” he asked concerned.
“No, No, you never ruined anything” you smiled, “ and yes, I’ll be your girlfriend” you both were smiling idiots.

I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met

You lay in Steve’s arms. The dating thing had been going on for about two months now and the two of you still hadn’t had sex. He wasn’t pushing it onto you, he wasn’t even suggesting it and for that you were great full. The most you had done is kiss. But never in front of people only on your own. 

You snuggled closer to Steve. You were in his room in the avengers tower and you were probably going to stay the night again. Steve kissed your head and you sighed before looking up. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not messing around yet. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done it before because you have. It’s just because of bad experiences.

You decided it was now or never so you sat up. Steve copied your actions with concern on his face. You straddled him and started kissing him, pushing him down by his chest. He kissed back eagerly. You broke the kiss sitting up and taking your top off before leaning down to continue the kiss.
The next morning you walked put of Steve’s room in one of his tops which was to big for you.

When the night was full of terrors
And your eyes were filled with tears
When you had not touched me yet
Oh, take me back to the night we met

You were fighting along with the avengers. It was the biggest fight anyone had ever seen, bigger than the super hero civil war. You had turned out to be an inhuman who had the ability to teleport as long as you could see where you were going. Tony thought this could help with fighting Thanos so you had to tag along. You had joined the new warriors after your powers were revealed and Daisy helped you learn to control them.

The avengers, guardians, warriors, defenders and spider-man all stood strong in the fight. All were injured but only one was lost. Steve ran over to you but it was to late. You had teleported to Thanos as a distraction while quake destroyed his nine and Nebula cut his hand off. The gauntlet was no longer his. Gamora and Nebula finished Thanos off but not before he flung you across the battle arena.

Steve got to you but he was to late, the damage had been made and you were gone. You had landed and broke your back causing your lungs to collapse in. You weren’t breathing and no one could save you now. He thought about using the time stone but Peter Quill convinced him it would only make things worst. This would be difficult to explain to James and Carter for more reasons than one.

I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met

It was the day Steve had to bury his one and only, his wife. It was the day he had to watch his children cry the most. James was given the flag which was on top of your coffin. The Ten year took with tears in his eyes. Who knew that the first time you and Steve would become intimate would cause your first child to be born. Carter sat on her Fathers lap with tears framing her face. The six year would never be the same again watching her mother be buried. 

That was the worst day of Steve’s life, nothing could top it but he knew he had to stay strong. For Carter and James. This is what drove Steve to quit being Captain America, he passed his shield onto Bucky who took his place. Steve, James and Carter moved to the country to live out their lives without their mother. Who was wrongly taken from them.