#I was trying to write fic and these quotes kinda matched what I was writing a little bit

[bromcommie]

hi, your fic “moving like a river of trouble crossing” kinda resonated with my soul and maybe even changed my life just a little bit, and i thought you deserved a better comment than my inarticulate ranting in the reblog tags yesterday.

the idea of shield hiring a therapist that looks like an older version of steve’s mother is unbelievably fucked up. the psychological warfare at play there is insane. and i love the parallel drawn to him first waking up from the ice and them trying to play this trick on him. he’s so much smarter than they give him credit for, everyone’s constantly underestimating him. i think that’s my favorite theme throughout this story; everyone is commodifying him in their own way, trying to stuff him in the box that they already made for him inside their heads.

the phrase “are you awake yet?” repeating over and over is so many different kinds of powerful. firstly, the way that it ties back to him waking up from the ice and his feelings of displacement in the world. secondly, that hazy, detached feeling that comes with depression, like you’re half-sleepwalking through your entire life, and no matter how hard you try to snap out of it and wake up, you can’t. i know that feeling well, and it emanates viscerally from this entire story. thirdly, it feels like a metaphor for the fact that he’s just drifting through life, doing what he’s told, following orders because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do with himself.

obsessed with lina’s comment of “wrong place, wrong time” after the date. she’s right on so many levels, more right than she knows. each and every line of this story has so many layers, all of the characters feel three-dimensional, and the vibe is distinct and consistent.

the entire section following “pain, steve knows on an intimate level,” him cataloguing all of the hurt throughout his life, is a masterpiece. this story belongs in a museum. long sections of introspection like that are always hardest for me to write, and this is like poetry. i was searching for a handful of favorite lines to pick out to quote back at you but i can’t even pick.

all the symbolism in the movie that he’s watching (is this a real movie that you’re quoting from? if so that makes it so much better) tying into his memories of his mom dying, of becca and peggy and bucky and the line “steve was only ever as strong as the people propping him up.” 😭😭😭 i have no words for how deeply i can feel his pain and loss. he’s sitting there thinking about how he was never really alone when he was lonely back then, but now he is really alone, and there’s nothing to soothe the ache in his soul.

Rumlow communicating through riddles and insults and violence is everything to me. this actually may be my favorite iteration of him that i’ve ever read; he almost mirrors natasha in the way that he says everything but what he really means, pushing limits and pushing into people’s lives like a creeping vine. pushing himself right into steve’s space, nearly pushing steve over the edge.

i’m picking up on some desperate, hopeless undertones of the little scene with steve riding his motorcycle, risking his life senselessly just to feel something, trying to convince himself he’s grateful for this second chance at life. there’s so much powerful character development in such a short scene, this is masterful.

the way that the fight between steve and rumlow is practically a proxy for intimacy is everything i love about their dynamic in one scene. the way that rumlow talks shit snd fights dirty and likes hurting steve just a little more than is strictly necessary. i know despite everything, rumlow’s gonna be thinking about this night for a long time. steve’s just a sadist’s dream, mind and body designed specifically to take brutality, and he has enough guilt and self-hatred built up to put himself in situations like this for the sake of blowing off steam. they’re a match made in hell, really.

this story deserves to be up there with the big names in stucky fic and i would die on that hill. i’m sorry this is so long, if there’s one thing about me it’s that i love writing insanely long comments 🤩 but um yea i’m so glad you decided to share this with the world bc !!! it got even better on my second read-through to write this comment this morning.

Omg hi! First of all, thank you so much for the generous kind words and for the detailed message. I am always so delighted when people engage with the stuff that I post in any way whatsover, but especially when they're willing to share their impressions, so you never need to apologize for it getting long. I love talking about this stuff. (if anything, I'm just sorry I couldn't get around to responding sooner!) I'm really glad the theme of everyone's different attempts to "place" Steve came through. That might be one of my favourite conflicts when it comes to his character, actually - especially because it's very workable both in-universe (we get to see people project their personal definition of what Cap is supposed to be onto Steve in the comics over and over, as well as in the movies but to a lesser extent) and as meta, considering the wildly different interpretations different canon writers as well as parts of the fandom have voiced for years now (hell, decades) - many of which, in my personal opinion, just completely ignore his background and defining traits/experiences in favor of, again, what their personal idea of what Cap (read: the USA) should value, prioritize, and represent. I just think the idea of a regular man - one with very specific life circumstances that produced a pretty rigid, strong-willed set of morals for that matter - thrown headfirst into being a myth and a propaganda tool, and by virtue of that being manhandled by the government and the public and pretty much everyone he meets almost constantly, to be very interesting. Also honestly I'll take just about any opportunity I can get to shit on intelligence agencies and all the psychological warfare (as you very aptly put it) they entail. And I love Steve's relationship with Sarah as well as that idea of everyone constantly underestimating him so this felt like a good, if painfully fucked up way to introduce that.

I could talk about my love for CATWS' nods to Steve's grief and extremely internalized way of dealing with things but I'm not going to because then we'd be here all day, so I'll just say this: I think about his whole subdued demeanor at the start of that movie coupled with those Avengers deleted scenes of him just kind of aimlessly wandering around New York looking like the epitomy of Sad Man with No Plan at least once a goddamn week. That exchange with Sam at the VA also just wrecks me every time, simply because it's so quiet and unassuming but says a lot. I'd say I'm glad my writing could get you to relate to that sense of dissociation so strongly, but having experienced it myself one too many times I'll just say it fucking sucks and I'm sorry it's so familar. Again, interesting to write about, though, especially when you're writing about a guy who's not only clearly been used to keeping this shit under lock and key his whole life, but who has only had maybe like three and a half people that he could on rare occasions allow himself to confide in, all of whom have gone and died on him or are getting there. Not to mention the survivor's guilt involved - I kept thinking that I can't imagine how badly just about anyone would react to these kinds of feelings if they were feeling guilty about being alive in the first place on top of everything else, and then guilty about feeling that way instead of grateful, like some kind of hellish positive feedback loop. Happy the "wrong place, wrong time" comment went over well! It felt a little heavy handed while I was writing it, but that may just be because I spent a good few days just overthinking that segment. That said I do have a whole background for Lina I have to figure out what to do with now, lol. I've gotten too attached. The movie he's watching is in fact real! It's called Mikey and Nicky and I can't recommend it enough to anyone who might be interested in a slightly experimental, character study-esque '70s crime flick that's really more a thoughtful story about love and death and devotion and lifelong friendship ultimately not surviving the test of time, differing life choices and disillusionment. Themes of childhood and loss and remembrance just kill me in general, especially in the scene I included, and especially because my brain kept going "haha but what if we made this about stucky" on repeat until I had to sit down at write this. Tbh that segment might be my favourite, the fact I had to take several breaks while writing bc I got too sad notwithstanding. And finally: ah, Rumlow. That motherfucker. Hate that guy's guts, love writing him. I cannot tell you how much I'm glad that Natasha parallel came through for you, because I think I did initially conceive of them as mirrors. My thinking was that Steve probably wouldn't fully trust either of them, especially in that lockdown survival mode and just having come into the whole paranoid toxic environment that is SHIELD which he already doesn't really trust, either. That said, I think on that surface level he might latch onto Rumlow more simply because he kind of highkey screams DOWN TO EARTH SOLDIER more than spy which might be more familar, and because Steve's well aware Natasha owes her allegiance to Fury in a pretty established way and is showing a personal interest in his life, which could come across as suspect. And it definitely is to an extent, but I think in the way that for Natasha at this point the slowly budding care she is developing for Steve as one of her own is still very much inseperable from her need to possess information and have control over the situation, which clashes with Steve's equally distrustful nature and desire to keep something for himself. Of course, we know that she's well-meaning and just acting on habit, while Rumlow is...well, Rumlow.

I tried to write Steve as being attracted primarily to that familiarity/comfort of having someone very competent and dogged and seemingly loyal on his side as well as Rumlow as a whole - his experience, his skill, this more level, borderline challenging approach he takes with Steve, even that rougher side to him; despite also being somewhat aware of and at moments even put off by the dubious nature of it all (not necessarily the fascist dogwhistles, but just those moments where that "just one of the guys" front crosses a line into something murkier) but eventually always ending up shutting that feeling down as dismissible because he doesn't have the energy to process it, and prob because there's a certain degree of shame coloring the whole thing. He doesn't want to think about why he's attracted to Rumlow including the violent side of him, about why he's drawing unwilling parallels to Bucky, about what he's subconsciously looking to get from Rumlow while in this self-destructive spiral, and so he inevitably just goes along with it. For Rumlow's part, I think he's definitely got that "moth to a flame" attraction to Steve, and might even respect (big, gigantic fucked up quotation marks around that) him in his own way, or at least he respects what Steve could do if he just wasn't so...well, Steve. I imagine the whole projection of Cap the Symbol (remember when I mentioned that like 2000 words ago?) as well as many of the things we all love about Steve the Man probably rub Rumlow the wrong way, if for no other reason because they're an unwittingly glaring call to his conscience, which I figure would just unnerve and piss him off more and make him turn even more punishing on instinct just to justify himself to himself. In any case, he definitely gets a kick out of being near Steve in the same way people get a kick out of proximity to powerful people in general. I don't think it's a HYDRA honeypot thing or some straight-up evil plan behind it or even a fully conscious thing for him necessarily, just that he's aware Steve's very, very strong and very, very closed off and very, very good while also being pretty fucking vulnerable, and gets a kick out of being able to exploit that and push his buttons and ultimately more or less subdue him in a way that has as much, if not more, to do with power as it does with sex and attraction. So violence as a proxy for intimacy is a perfect way of putting what I was going for, thank you for that!

What I ultimately find the most interesting about writing this version of Rumlow in relation to this version of Steve is that Rumlow is very much a hateable character to me precisely because on the surface he could be just any other alright guy, if he weren't, well.... Rumlow, if he didn't repeatedly decide to give in to the same sadistic instinct because it's easier than the rest of it, if he didn't make the same morally wrong choice over and over despite initially seeming reedemable, despite getting every opportunity to choose differently; same as Steve repeatedly chooses to be good despite his own flaws, despite the opportunity to just give up, despite his own inner turmoil.

So, y'know: very much fuck that guy. They should've dropped more than one building on him. Hell of an interesting dynamic to write, though. Match made in hell indeed.

*claps hands together* ANYWAY! JESUS CHRIST THIS GOT LONG, I'm so sorry to you and anyone seeing this. This wasn't meant to turn into my own personal verbose meta playground, and yet it did. Thank you so much again for the lovely comment and for taking the time out to come talk to me about your impressions, it's been a pleasure!<3

[slashingdisneypasta]

💛RE anon, here. I mean, I was gonna just say that names fine, but then I read your whole reply and started vibrating into another dimension and muffling my screams because OK OMG OK jealous Blackie, right?! I had this thought the other day. So, this is, again, entirely your fault because even though Freddy turns up in my dreams with…slightly alarming frequency and I’ve written myself so many self-indulgent things in other fandoms over the years, the Robert parts of my brain have been sadly neglected for some time.

Anyway anyway anyway: you know that part where the creepy sheriff is hitting on Fay just before Blackie pays the bribe and does that cute little “I’d like to strangle him” claw thing? The sheriff is being too familiar with the reader/oc or what have you while Blackie is at the register and clear as day I’ve got the image of him coming over and clapping the sheriff on the shoulder a liiiiiiiiittlle too hard. Laughter just a bit forced. Teeth gritted. Nearly growling. “Now, sheriff…reckon you oughta be a little more RESPECTFUL to my wife.” He does the claw while the sheriff gives an oily apology, she feels a sudden pressure on her hand at the same time, looks down to see a ring. The matching one is on the hand Blackie was resting on the counter. Cue the eyebrow raise but she’ll call him on that, later, if he’s through dancing around it.

But, no, he’s not admitting anything. Not Mr nonchalant “oh, I was having so much fun watching you all run I wished you were here. Iced tea?” It goes about like the “you think I’m gorgeous” scene in Miss Congeniality. You know, one with the candy bar of rejection? Rings disappear. He was just being nice because she was uncomfortable. She’s very annoyed. And kinda hurt.

Post attempted firing squad, when he was clearly keeping her behind him, she gets up the nerve again and with the close call it goes like the second “you think I’m gorgeous scene.” With the smooch.

So, after that possibly unhinged digression…which should probably be a warning that when I have time to turn up I’ve been writing too many headcanons…you may also call me the madly inspired anon, if you like. (PS, feel free to answer this on whichever blog you’d prefer. I’ll definitely be checking both.) And for now, I’ll say goodnight 🙋🏼‍♀️

💛 Madly Inspired Anon!! Thats a beautiful name actually, I'll use that one so long as you like it too! ^^

Y E S Jealous Blackie XDD For my own ideas, I've been on and off considering a fic where reader is another cook or waitress, or maybe a dishwasher or a cleaner, or something at the cafe, and she l i k e s Blackie. Right? And he knows it- she doesn't make any attempt to hide it. She's trying to get him, and he's acting like he's not interested (because, immortal trauma)... b u t, whenever a visitor gets too comfortable with Y/N (And maybe she's liking it- enjoying the attention she's not getting from Blackie) he always swoops in and ruins it for her. And she gets s o f r u s t r a t e d by him she ends up confronting him about it like 'you are acting like my boyfriend but without any of the benefits. if you want me, tell me. if you dont- leave me alone!'. I just cant figure out where that quote comes from though 😅 I know the first part did not come from my head but I cant remember what I scooped it from and I must give credit!!

ANYWAY though- your idea is way better XD And- y e s I know that claw thing XD Here:

I do that myself all the time XD 😂😭 He is my spirit animal.

I'M VIBRATING AT THE IDEA OF BLACKIE GOING FREDDY-EYED (BASICALLY GLOWERING BUT WITH THE POWER OF THE CHARCOAL MAN) AT THE SHERIFF FOR BEING GREASY WITH Y/N AND THEN B R U S H I N G I T O F F, oh my goodness. And, uh, STEPPING IN FRONT OF Y/N DURING THE FIRING SQUAD SCENE!?? OH MY GOODNESS. And Y/N teasing him about it??? Oh my goodness XDD If he doesn't kiss her to make her shut up I'm gonna sue XD

You've given me so much material for before-sleep fictional man fantasies XD

[imaginespazzi]

Hi bestie, UCLA anon here 🙋‍♀️ Bestie, I trust your brain way more than I do mine because I have very minimal creative bones in my body, so I don’t know if I have a lot to offer. I have had scenes play out in my head around this whole UCLA au but I cannot promise they are any good or worth writing about or if they even make sense lmao, but anyway I’ll share them with you and do with it what you like (or completely ignore them cos that works too!):

When Azzi tells Paige: So in keeping with what happened irl, I was envisioning similar circumstances where Azzi tells her parents about her decision (to commit to UCLA) in the car while they’re on their way to surprise Paige in Storrs for her birthday. But this time, instead of breaking the news to Paige over dinner, like she did with her UConn commitment irl, she tells her when it’s just the two of them hanging out in Paige’s room. In the lead up to this, Azzi’s a bit anxious of course to tell Paige and what her reaction might be, but her parents reassure her that even though Paige will be a little dramatic about it at first, she’ll be happy for her cos like best friends for life right? And Azzi agrees that while she knows Paige will be upset for a hot minute, she’ll get over it, and so nothing prepares her for Paige’s actual reaction and the intensity of it! Also, a thought of mine was that Paige asks Azzi whether she’s actually informed ucla of her decision, and when she finds out that Azzi hasn’t actually called ucla yet, she desperately tries everything she can to get Azzi to reconsider (but to no avail obviously).

Their first on-court meeting: I’m thinking it happens in Azzi’s freshman year – a high stakes game, so let’s go with Final 4 lol. Anyway, lots of hype coming into it obviously and to add to that, Azzi was just announced as the Naismith NPOY ahead of this game (just beating out Paige). So yeah, a lot of coverage going into this game and of course half of their interviews coming into this is just people constantly asking them about the other. Lots of banter being thrown around between the two. TENSIONS ARE HIGH AF in the actual game. They both kinda pop off, and everyone’s just being treated to some incredible basketball between the two best players in the country, but the tension is PALPABLE. Anyway, I’m thinking Azzi drains a clutch 3 that puts them ahead with only a few seconds left but Paige one-ups her and manages to drain a buzzer beating shot that wins it for UConn. What happens after… idk I’ll leave that to you lmao. And if Azzi’s at the National Championship game wearing a Paige shirt/jersey (they’re still very much not together), well… SIDE NOTE: I’ve just assumed we’re not giving them any injuries in this fic 😅

Ok so those are the only scenes I’ve had play out in detail in my head lol

Otherwise, I just envision a lot of angst and like we said before… a bit of toxicity hurt nobody (and to quote that other anon one time – we support cheating as long as it’s with each other and not on each other) 🙈.

But yeah, just on that, I don’t know if I really see Paige getting into a relationship during this – like she probably tries but she just keeps comparing everyone to Azzi and of course, no one ever matches up. But she does run through the streets of Storrs for sure. And Azzi hears about a lot of what she gets up to through the grapevine and it definitely feeds into a lot of Azzi’s insecurities.

I think I can see Azzi getting into a relationship with someone while at UCLA (mainly to force herself to try fall out of love with Paige) and of course once she gets into a relationship, jealous Paige comes out full force, like Paige cannot handle it at all. Summer breaks are when it gets especially messy.

Also, idk when you have them ending up together but in my mind, they probably get together during Azzi’s senior year/Paige’s rookie year in the WNBA (mainly cos I love thinking about them in their WAG era).

Ok imma stop there, cos I don’t even know if I’m making any sense anymore and wow I'm sorry this got so long. Like I said babe, feel free to ignore all of this because your ideas I think would be infinitely better. You have no idea how excited I am for this fic – like THANK YOU for giving me a way to live out my roman empire. And please never doubt or worry about whether or not you’ll “meet our expectations” cos bestie, whatever you write will be gold and we will eat it up, TRUST! 🫶

HI FRIEND 🫶🏾

I'm so happy to see you. Lowkey really needed a scene idea for when Azzi tells Paige so thank god for you bestie because I was struggling with that.

Actually, a lot of these things match with my head, except timelines. I'm actually gonna include Paige's acl injury from last year (I'm sorry people) because that's kinda where the fic's gonna begin with her recovering in LA and getting a surprise (not so surprise lol) visitor. And then I was gonna have their first time playing be in the Cayman's and then the F4 this year but basically it was gonna have the same things happen that you described.

Gonna keep the when they end up together a surprise though but it's probably a little later than that. 😈

Thank you for your faith in bestie me, I hope I do your roman empire justice. You just gave me so much motivation to start writing. 💗

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Please, do you have any tips for getting the motivation to write? Not like, getting inspiration or figuring out how to write. I have so many ideas I have for both personal ideas and fanfics, but when I sit down to write, I get about one paragraph in, many two, then I just lose the motivation to keep on typing and figuring out how to structure my words. It's so frustrating and makes me wanna cry. Do you have anything you do to help you just sit down and write/type? It would be really appreciated! I don't want to be just called "lazy" anymore.

First off i'm so sorry that it took me so long to answer life kinda came up and grabbed me, also i can and will fight everyone who is calling you lazy because that's not okay, make them turn on their locations i just wanna talk

everything else under the cut bc this got long

Second! I think for me the biggest thing to just get me started is a first draft doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to exist. I just gotta spill words onto a page and then I can go back and like actually no i want this to read like this and this to read like this. Also why I'm an advocate for drafting in comic sans 'cause ain't nothing gonna look polished and finished in that font which means you can fuck up as much as you want just to get it down.

Third, and I don't know if this will work for everyone, I don't always write in prose the entire time--that is, sentences, punctuation, all that. One thing that I'm a big fan of doing is bullet fics where I'll just bullet point what I want to happy and not pay attention to tone consistency or any of that. Then I can break down parts that are being really loud in my head and do them with proper everything like how I'd write them out for a fic or a chapter but I can keep the momentum going of 'and then this shit happens 'cause they're both idiots' and just get everything out. I've had a lot of projects where they're about 20% actual written prose and 80% 'so this and then this and then this is what they're thinking' in bullet form. You can always go back and edit it later, just get it down and out of your head. I find sometimes re-reading the bullets can bring the daydream/story idea back to the forefront of my brain and then it's easier to keep writing as opposed to leaving it all up there where it's liable to disappear completely.

Kind of jumping off from that, there's a phrase someone told me once about not letting your pen rest on the page because you'll just get a big well of ink. Keep it moving and you'll figure it out. If i'm struggling to figure out how to phrase something or write something, I'll write the clunkiest version of it [or just put what happens in square brackets like this] and move on to come back to later. i find if i fixate too hard on the hump of what's giving me trouble in that moment i'll lose the rest of the story.

Then there are a few things that are more, like, personal ambiance things? I'll find a song or a soundscape to listen to that makes my brain vibrate at the right frequency to immerse myself in the tone of whatever I want to write and listen to it on repeat even if i'm not actively writing. For some longer pieces i'll take pacing breaks where i literally just get up and walk around listening to whatever it is while i make my brain spin about it without the pressure of putting it to words. If a few specific quotes or passages pop into my brain i might take the time to scribble them down but it's mostly about making sure i'm immersed enough in the world i'm trying to write so i don't have to concentrate so hard on making sure the technical parts of my writing matches with what's in my head.

I suppose something I will ask (and honestly maybe should have asked earlier) is what parts of writing make it feel 'complete' to you and where do you find it the hardest to pick up once you've left it for a bit? If it's the pressure to get everything down just so you can point to it and say 'see here's what's happening, here are the arcs, here's where the story goes,' then the bullet technique might be more helpful. If it's the art of figuring out how you want to phrase things and how you want your words to go, I'd suggest trying the square brackets technique so you can focus on the parts that feel really strong or that you really want to sink your teeth into without interrupting the flow of the words. It's totally okay to write things out of order (i still have to convince my brain of this sometimes too) and removing some of the pressure to make everything perfect (or even prose) first time around when you just need to write can be super helpful

I hope this was helpful and kind of what you wanted!!!!! If there are any other questions you have--or if you want more of these sorts of suggestions if they weren't very helpful--please lemme know

[moriartyluver]

Listen listen, that one Dangerously Yours audio that starts like “Listen to your heart Catherine, feel it pounding.” and so on but Liam is Rudolph and fl is Catherine

Honestly they match almost every single Dangerous Yours audio atp😭

🎀.

BRO I WROTE SO MUCH FOR THIS AND TUMBLR DELETED MY DRAFT 😭

"[...] an eternity without me you will look into the faces of passers by hoping for something that will for an instant bring me back to you. You will find moonlight night strangely empty, because when you call my name throught then there will be no answer. Always your heart will be aching for me and your mid will give you the doubtful consolation that you did a brave thing."

In the og version 1 I was gonna have fl and William be friends at first and then become complete enemies on different sides and have fl try to kill him or something at the end. In og version 2, the library scene was a lot like the count Estefan scene

They would’ve been a lot more friendly at the beginning in og version 2 but the plot was complicated and there was a shit ton of plot holes so I’m probably gonna stray away from it a lot more now. Fl was gonna be foreign royalty and a philosophy student but I changed my mind for the academic rivals to lovers. Also william wasn’t as whipped but kinda in denial with his feelings a lot more in the og version 2 and o low-key got pissed at fl a lot

I JUST REMEMBERED I QUOTED LOVERS ROCK IN THEIR SEMI- CONFESSION SCENE 😭 I WAS HONNA ORIGINALLY NAME IT LOVERS ROCK

name evolution was Addleworth (only got like two chapters before rework) —> lovers rock was almost a thing and i was considering a black butler x mtp crossover —> false lovers version 1/ og version 2 which the library ss were from. Got reworked bc I struggled with structure and someone commented a pretty harsh criticism so I couldn’t bring myself to write past chapter 16. —> false lovers currently

Also fun fact, the original idea was gonna be a friends to lovers to enemies with an angst ending

Anyways the semi confession scene was low-key funny bc William was talking about jumping off into the Thames and fl was just like. I had every reason to dislike her. Also pacing was so shit omg

ALSO I AM WORKING ON A MODERN AU WILLIAM X READER WHICH IS KIND OF AN ‘in another life’ + academic rivals —> lovers fic but it may take a while and I kinda wanna finish false lovers first.

THIS BIT IS SO THEM

"I love you! You may as well take my heart Catherine it's already full of you!"

"Please go."

"What is it? What's wrong my dear?"

"You know nothing about me, you've known me only three weeks!"

"Three weeks? Catherine I've known you all my life."

"All your life?"

"It's true, when I heard beautiful music I thought 'she'd like that'. I looked at flowers knowing that one day I'd give them to you."

"Oh stop, stop."

"But for my heart there is another love that must come before you, my country."

Except his country is more his ideal goal for Britain. BUT ITS SO THEM OMG

ALSO FL

“My country is very dear to me”

“Dearer than I?”

“No..not dearer than you” CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP

[taegularities]

Hello, lovely Rid 💕💕

I'm here to ramble to you about your ramble in response to my ramble lmao.

First of all, we really do think alike apparently, because I also checked the wordcount of my feedback before sending it and it's probably the longest one I've ever written and will ever write. Even without all of the quotes it's like over 2k words, I really don't know how to shut up 😭😭😭

Thank you so much for taking so much care to write such a thoughtful response, Rid 🥺🥺🥺 I always love reading your responses to feedback, and not only my own, because everyone points out different things and you give even more insight into the story and your writing process. I can just read about your stories forever, even when it comes to commentary about them.

I watched the mv for 'when you're gone' and I totally agree with you that that scene matches OC's mood in the beginning of the chapter very well 😔😔😔 It also matches the way I was reading the Valentine’s day drabble, smiling at how adorable they were when I knew how we left off in cmi6. I've said it before but I'll say it again, the thing that hurts the most is knowing how happy they're able to make each other and seeing how they're now hurting each other instead 😭😭😭

Also about the rambling to my sister lmao. Cmi is the first fic I've properly talked to her about (she reads fanfic too, just not bts ones) and I was fully ranting to her about how Jungkook was keeping everything in and trying to be strong until he couldn't anymore, and now he's ignoring OC, I don't think I've ever ranted so much even about a real life person lmao. I might have not painted him in the best light because of how mad I was though 😔😔😔 But I probably will just ramble about how cute he is to her later on when everything works out 😌😌😌

Also also everyone has been adding onto the sadness and angst here and I don't know how they do it, because every time I even think about OC with someone else or just them being even sadder I want to cry lmao. But I still love reading everybody adding to the chaos, I can't lie.

Last but definitely not least, I feel like I haven't properly checked in on you in a few days, so how are you doing, Rid? 🥺🥺🥺

I MISSED YOU (she says after just 2 days lol), honestly, i was gonna shoot you an ask today lmao but since you're here, i can just say it now: i hope you're doing well! how's school going? &lt;3

2k even without the quotes? i don't deserve you fr 😭 no but seriously, i copied it into a doc, and thought, kay, must be around 2k, like all of it (which is already a lot) BUT 5.7K.... and it was like 10 pages long !! i went "awwh" out loud 😭

and thank you 🥺 i was even thinking of making a smol commentary one day, when i've got the time, bc i could talk about them forever 😭 i really love reading everyone's reviews and theories, bc sometimes it makes me rethink things that i didn't consider even while writing.

ikr? i spent my teenage years crying to 'when you're gone', and i kinda remembered the song when you pointed out that 'he can be comfort even now' bit :( and you're actually so right. might argue that it hurts even more to relate it to the vday drabble.. especially, considering what's still to come.

hahaha i get it 😭 after that chapter, it was hard to hold a high opinion of him, bc he did kinda fuck up :// but yes, i promise you, there are gonna be scenes and chapters that are so fluffy, it'll be almost disgusting, really. it's so cute that you ranted about it to your sister hahaha i really love that you're so invested 🥺

I KNOW! it's amazing how everyone was ready to jail me for all the angst... yet, they keep coming up with scenarios and songs that break me for good 😂 i wasn't as much in pain when i posted the chapter as i am now hahahah

ahh i'm okay, ivi, thank you for asking! i think the biggest reason for my bleh mood was that i'm... very bored. i've been feeling pretty unproductive since i took this super long break after graduation and quit my last job. which is why i'm lowkey excited (but also very scared lol) to start my semester next week and my job in may! will join you in your academic misery hahah but yeah. i'll be busier, but i'm looking forward to it, bc i do like being busy! hope you're all good, too 🥺🤍

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Okay fuck it doing that writing meme. I put it in a randomizer. Gonna do however many a day until I’m done or get bored

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Oh man at the risk of sentimentality it’s the positive feelings I potentially bring to readers and the weird connection that comes with that. There’s one fic in particular I have that’s very long and was very hard to write but every so often I get comments like wow this really made me reflect on life itself, basically. And I was reflecting on life while writing it. But also sometimes I get comments that are just like HNGGHHHH THIS WAS HOT/SAD/SCARY over something I thought was an audience of one (aka me) kinda thing. It’s just really cool how art can forge connections like that, even if it’s just as brief an interaction as a one sentence comment on ao3.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

There’s lots so I’ll talk about one of the stickiest quotes in my head lately. It comes from We Had to Remove This Post which is a novel that’s a psychological study of the toll that thar working content moderation takes on the narrator:

So what kinds of things did you see? It’s crazy how often people still ask me that, even though it’s been sixteen months since I left Hexa. People just won’t stop trying, and if my answer doesn’t live up to their expectations—too vague, not shocking enough��they simply repeat the question, putting it slightly differently. “But what’s the worst thing you ever saw? [long description of something fucked up here that I won’t just spring on my tumblr followers lol but then the rest of the quote goes like, bolding added by me] That house where the bathroom light is still on at night, that’s where she’s sitting alone on the cold, hard floor. But that’s not what people want to hear. They want me to give them something new, things they’d never dare look at, things that are far beyond their imagination, which is why Gregory asks, “But what’s the worst thing you ever saw?” rather than “How is that girl doing now?

I have a job that sometimes makes people go “what’s the most fucked up thing you ever saw” too so that’s when the book sunk its claws in and never let go. But I feel like “how is that person doing now” is the foundational Thing that makes me into writing

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

It’s not terrible advice but often misunderstood but that’s a rant for another thing. And I really like filing away memories of sensory details that are slightly surprising or are just Something enough for later use (random case in point I got pretty bad sunburn at the beach recently even though it was overcast and so I was assuming my cheeks hurt from the wind when it was actually the sun and if you ever see that in my writing now no shhhh you didn’t). Sometimes I mix and match these sensory memories for added specificity. I hope this makes sense, meds I have that make me sleepy are kicking in.

[realchemistry]

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

[sj-ficrecs]

1,000+ followers fic rec!

Recently noticed at some point a little while ago I passed 1,000 followers on this page! In honor of that here’s another fic rec of some good ones I’ve been reading lately. As usual, no specific order. 

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE!

(Hopefully this shows up in tags bc my last one didn’t & tumblr wouldn’t fix it) 

Thanks to @whimsicalrogers for this divider I’m using below :)

Bucky x reader:

3B by @softlybarnes Bucky x reader

“Bucky is used to being alone, so is the girl living in apartment 3B. He keeps to his routine, to crossing off amends. But mutual loneliness forges an unlikely friendship. Alone and reclusive, sweet and incredibly strange, with deep secrets and regrets, 3B has more to reveal than meets the eye.”

(un)cool by @belowva rockstar!Bucky x reader

“in the summer of 1973, after covering the howling commandos’ concert for a night, you - a young and inexperienced music journalist - accidentally end up following the up and coming band from new york city across the country. between shows, parties, backstage nonsense, interviews and failed attempts at writing a cover story for rolling stone magazine, you end up developing a love/hate relationship with their brooding, but devilishly handsome, guitarist james “call me bucky” barnes. (based on “almost famous”)”

Your Song by @summergrls​  Rockstar!Bucky x reader

“it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.”

Last Love by @wicked-mind Modern!Bucky x reader

“Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.”

Remember Me by @wicked-mind​ Modern!Bucky x reader

“Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones?”

Cake by @tellmealovestory (Part of the Something More universe) Modern!Bucky x reader

“The wedding plans continue as you and Bucky try to decide on a cake flavor.”

My Eyes by @invisibleanonymousmonsters Bucky x reader, past Steve x reader

“Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.”

The Mess by @sanguineterrain​ Bucky x Avenger!reader

“A wild night in Vegas changes everything between you and Bucky. Suddenly, all eyes are on you and you’re left wondering just how much can change between you and a man whose guts you hate (and who also hates yours).”

The Devil Has Lilith by @write-orflight Bucky x reader, soulmate AU

“They say your soulmate is supposed to be the one person you love unconditionally. So why did they make yours so insufferable?”

College!Bucky series / Couldn’t Be Me by @drunken-imagines College!Bucky x reader

Bucky is a known fuck boy trying to win over reader

Best of Friends by @anna-phora Modern!Bucky x reader

“When your best friend steals marries Bucky’s best friend, the two of you are left with only one solution: to become best friends yourselves.”

Back to You by @celestialbarnes Modern!ex-Bucky x reader

“desperate to find a place to stay after your boyfriend cheated on you, you end up crashing at bucky’s apartment, the problem is he’s the ex that you never really got over and he’s got a new girl who doesn’t like you very much.”

It’s Been a Long, Long Time by @luminnara Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

“When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!“

Friends Don’t by @watchtowerindistress Bucky x reader

“Reader is in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Bucky Barnes. Rule #1: no feelings - so don’t get attached (written by Bucky). Rule #2: don’t ever stay over (written by (Y/N)). After a fateful mission, one of them is going to break all the rules.”

Just a Touch by @buckychrist Bucky x reader

“Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.”

Under Pastel Skies by @redgillan Modern!Bucky x Artist!reader

“Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.”

A Long Ways Away by @ai-unknown Bucky x reader

“Connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far, if it means making you smile.”

No Rest for the Wicked by @abovethesmokestacks Trucker!Bucky x reader

Based upon this ask: “i have the absolute weirdest urge today to get railed by trucker!bucky in a motel in like southern florida🤨 and it’s late too, maybe 3-4 am. the place is kinda seedy & it’s rlly humid and hot outside & the ac barely works so we’d both be sweating a lot but it makes it hotter”

Meanwhile in Louisiana by @multifandomwriter Bucky x reader

“You are Sam’s best friend and you meet Bucky when Sam organizes a party down at the docks.”

A Tender Heart by @river-soul Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader

“You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit.”

Steve x reader:

Jane Doe by @justkending Modern!Steve x reader

“They weren’t next door neighbors, but they did live in the same apartment complex. However, they were on completely different sides of the complex. Steve always sees her across the way doing her daily routines and way about life on her balcony from his own. Something about her has him checking in on her from across the way when he can… She’s intriguing and has a way about her life that he finds calming and captivating. He wants to know more about who she is, but there’s no non-creepy way of approaching a neighbor that doesn’t know you exist. Is there?”

[sunkisseddaffodils]

Please can you do a platonic fic? Tenth doctor (if you write for him) x friend reader? Them going on an adventure and something bad happens and reader using vine quotes and dark humour to lighten up the very bad situation and Docs just …again really? Thank you!

Pairing: tenth doctor x plationicfriend!reader

Summary: People keep disappearing near an old house. The tenth doctor and reader go investigate.

Song to listen to: you reposted in the wrong neighbourhood (this probably doesn't match the tone of the fic but this song reminds me of the vine era idk lmao)

Genre: reader insert, humour

A/n: thanks for the request, anon! I had fun writing this! I really hope the vines used actually make sense in the story. It's a bit of a longer story this time as well. Hope you like it!

-

'Welcome to Chilis'

You know what would be an amazing idea, Doctor? You should set random coordinates into the TARDIS and see where we end up! I’m not seeing any problems with that unless- maybe I guess there would be if we landed in an active volcano? Or in the middle of a nuclear war? But the chances of that have to be minuscule? Right? C’mon, it would be so much fun.’

Y/N had been rambling to themself for so long that they only just realised that the doctor was no longer following along beside them. They had been making their way back to the TARDIS after a quick visit back home. They whirled around, looking for his identifiable brown trench coat. It didn’t take too long. They saw that he was examining something in a newsagents shop window back down the street. Jogging over, they observed what he was so caught up in. There were about ten missing person’s posters plastered on the shop window. Y/N couldn’t see anything that would suggest that aliens were involved. Unfortunately, the Doctor did. Noticing their presence, he murmured.

‘Doesn’t it seem weird that these people have all disappeared near this location?.’

He pointed to the address on the poster.

‘Milton Residential Home’.

Y/N squinted, getting a closer look.

‘Yeah, actually, it kinda does.’

A quick Google on Y/N’s phone told them that it was a disused nursing home that was closed six years prior. Just from the photos on google images, Y/N did not like the vibe they were getting from the place.

‘Look, Doctor. Are you getting a weird energy from the place?’

The Doctor looked at them baffled.

‘I think I know what you mean… Anyway, come on, Y/N! Let’s go!’

And with that, he ran down the street. They were never gonna get used to all the running.

Standing at the front gated entrance to the nursing home, Y/N suddenly wished that they were back only looking at it through their phone. The real thing was an absolute horror show. Since those photographs were taken, the grounds around the house had only become more overgrown and decrepit. Plus a few added broken windows. Y/N also thought they saw some sculptures at the side of the house by the bins. But at a second glance, there was nothing there.

The Doctor was already bounding towards the gate with zero fear. But Y/N was the opposite. They called out to the Doctor.

‘Are you sure about this?

He marched back, a reassuring smile on his face.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing. I know it seems like alien invasions are happening all the time. But in reality, that’s not the case.

They tried to give a grin back.

‘Hmm, I guess it won’t hurt just to look’

The Doctor returned to the gate, fiddling with the sonic screwdriver to unlock it. Y/N cried out to him once more.

‘Doctor, wait!’

He whirled around, concerned.

‘What?’

With a poker face, Y/N asked.

‘Before we go in, I just have to ask… WHAT ARE THOSE?’

They shouted the last part while pointing to his classic white converse trainers and couldn't help but burst out into laughter.

He just stood there slightly bemused.

‘I know you’re making some sort of reference but I am trying to resonate the lock here.’

They giggled to themself as the Doctor finally unlocked the gate. Sometimes they forgot that he wasn’t human. They guessed that they would have to appreciate the humour by themself for now until they could enlighten him to the wonders of the vine era.

The inside of the house was what you’d expect a nursing home to look like. Except with significant signs of it being abandoned. Thick layers of dust coated every surface. Furniture lay askew. And the Doctor and Y/N sure weren’t the first people to break into the house. The first floor contained the kitchen and living areas whilst the remaining two floors were dedicated to the former resident's bedrooms. When they had entered the lobby area, they had agreed that they would do a sweep of each floor looking for anything unusual. The Doctor would take the living rooms and Y/N would search in the kitchen and ground floor bathrooms first.

As soon as they had split up, Y/N wished that they hadn’t. But it was too late as the Doctor had already run off to his assigned rooms. Having successfully navigated their way to the kitchen after consulting a map on the wall behind reception, they stood at the doors to the kitchen feeling uneasy. They crept towards the door, placing their ear against it, listening to see if there was anything in there. They heard nothing so far. The hair on the back of their neck rose sharply. They got the sense that they were being watched. Suddenly, there were scuffling noises and footsteps emitted from back in the reception area. Their heart was racing as they pondered about what it could be? The Doctor? No, he would be in the living room by now. Whatever it was, it sounded as if it were inching closer and closer to where they were by the kitchen.

They yelled out, sweat beading on their forehead.

‘Whoever made that noise, your mum’s a hoe!’

The racket ceased and they gradually turned around, shutting their eyes in dread. Eventually, they got the courage to open her eyes. Once again there was nothing there. They sighed in enormous relief.

Although there was no immediate danger, Y/N concluded that they no longer wanted to be in that corridor and ran hurriedly into the kitchen. A horrible stench from what could only be rotting food in the fridge hit them in the face like a brick. Yep, they were staying away from that side of the kitchen. They sauntered towards two large windows at the back of the kitchen over the counters. The back of the house was in an even sorrier state. Overgrown hedges and broken garden furniture littered the place. Y/N thought that the statues of angels amongst the thick grass were an unusual choice of decor for an old people’s home.

‘To each their own, I guess’ they muttered to themself.

They were scrutinising each of the statues critically when a ping from their phone scared the living christ out of them. It was a message from the Doctor. Leaning on the countertop, they opened the text. It read ‘Found anything yet? Nothing too dangerous on my end so far. Weird energy readings heading towards the garden though.’ They replied with a quick ‘Nothing on my end either.'

They put their phone away and continued examining the statues. They could have sworn that one by the weeping willow tree in the corner of the garden had moved slightly. Its hands were covering its face but now they were resting by its side. And it was facing directly towards the kitchen windows. Y/N didn’t know whether they were going mad in this paranoia-inducing house. But it had to be a trick of the light, right? It’s a statue. Statues can’t move. It’s impossible. The door creaking open behind gave them the second heart attack that day. They grabbed the first thing they could find and pointed it at the intruder. Turns out the first thing they could find was a broken whisk.

‘Don’t fuck with me! I have the power of god and anime on my side!’

The Doctor put his hands up:

‘Y/N! It’s just me!’

He couldn’t help but chuckle though.

‘I’m sorry you just looked funny threatening me with a whisk.’

They crossed their arms in annoyance, pouting.

‘Can we get out of here? This place is giving me the creeps.’

The Doctor didn’t answer them. He was suddenly transfixed on something behind them.

‘Umm Y/N? Was that statue there before?

They spun around. The statue that was by the willow tree was now immediately outside the window, its stone hands reaching through like it was about to wrap them around someone’s neck. Immediately, they jumped back towards the Doctor.

‘Doctor, what the fuck is that! That thing was by that tree the last I saw. How can it have moved?’

The Doctor explained in a very serious tone.

‘We should have never have come here. These statues are weeping angels. Had dealings with them before. Too recent for my liking. Y/N I need you to listen carefully. Your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink. ’

The deathly gravity in his voice made their stomach drop.

‘Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna slowly back out of the kitchen and out of the house. I’m gonna need the TARDIS for us to get out of this. Don’t take your eyes off that angel. I’m gonna face the other way because certainly there will be more coming.’

Y/N kept their eyes firmly fixed on the angel, back to back with the Doctor, until they were out of the kitchen. Their eyes soon began to sting. The Doctor secured the door to the kitchen with the sonic screwdriver. Both of them rushed towards the entrance. To their dismay, another angel was blocking the way out. Stuck in the middle of the entryway, the doctor ran his hands through his hair trying to figure out how they could get out of this. They were still back to back, working together to keep an eye on all the angels that were appearing left right and centre.

‘Um, I don’t wanna rush you or anything. Do you have a plan? I don’t know how much longer how I can go on not blinking.’

The Doctor jumped into action and addressed the pack of weeping angels.

‘It’s your lucky day, angels! Guess, what? I’m a Time Lord. And what do Time Lords have? That’s right, a TARDIS full to the brim with time energy that you could spend eternity feasting on. If you want me to bring it here then you’re gonna have to follow me.’

He added in a quick whisper to Y/N.

‘Keep your eyes on them while I lead them up to the roof. Don’t know what I’m gonna do when I’m up there but I’m sure it’ll come to me. When I’ve led them away. Here’s what I want you to do. Run. Get as far away as possible from this house.’

There was no time to process as soon as he had told them the plan, he was already sprinting up the stairs. Y/N accidentally blinked. But it was okay, the angels seemed to be falling for his trick. When they opened their eyes, they had all followed the Doctor upstairs.

They jumped into action and shot through the front doors and towards the gate. They stopped to catch her breath just short of the gate and they thought they saw movement in their periphery. When they glanced up, there was a lone weeping angel located right in front of the wrought iron gates, cutting the Doctor’s plan short. Shit. What were they gonna do? They were stuck.

They felt tears stream down their face as she was once more staring at the angel. The only thing they could think of to do was to head back into the house much to their despair. As they tiptoed backwards up the gravel driveway, they did not anticipate the deep voice from a man to speak to them.

‘Y/N, you thought you would get out of this scot-free, didn’t you?. We know the Doctor’s plan. He won’t give us access to the TARDIS that easily. But he will if we kill his companion.’

They gazed around, looking for the owner of the voice, but there was no one there besides them and the Angel. To their horror then, it had to be the Angel speaking to her. In a moment of alarm, they forgot that she shouldn’t have looked away. The Weeping Angel was now a mere few inches from their face, a horrifying smile planted upon it. Eyes wide open, trying with all their all might not to blink, they stepped back. they choked a response back.

‘ What the fuck is up Kyle? No, what’d you say? Step the fuck up Kyle!’

They were still moving inch by inch back towards the house. They prayed that there weren’t any other stray angels lurking about. They could not take their eyes off this one otherwise they was dead.

The angel taunted them.

‘My name is not Kyle. But what's certain is that I am coming to get you. No matter how long it takes. we are very patient creatures. This is gonna be enjoyable. Did the Doctor forget to mention that if we get you, we send you back in time? But where shall I send you? Oooh, how about London during the Blitz? Or perhaps even further? Hmm, medieval England during the Black Death sounds even more satisfying.’

It wasn’t just what the angel was saying that was making Y/N feel sick to their stomach. But also the uncanny juxtaposition of the voice they were using. If they had a voice, they were sure it wouldn’t be in a Cockney accent. They must have taken the voice of one of their victims.

They hastened their pace all the while staring at their attacker. Finally, they made it back to the house. They found the lock and bolted it shut. That should hinder it even for just a little bit. They finally turned their back and searched for somewhere to hide. They heard the rattling of the door trying to be opened as they turned the corner heading towards the kitchen. They didn’t have much time. A ray of light shone when they saw a door next to the kitchen they had missed earlier. They checked and it was a broom closet. There were a few items they could use to block the doorway. Footsteps from round the corner confirmed their decision, they ran into the closet. They heaved a small cabinet in front of the door and placed all the cleaning equipment they could find to prevent the angel from gaining access.

After they had finished and switched the light off, they hunched small in the corner, trying to make as little noise as possible. They didn’t know what powers the weeping angels had but they hoped they didn’t have some magic power where they could detect humans instantly.

It could only have been ten minutes since they had entered the closet, but it felt like they had been in there for a thousand years. They heard numerous noises from outside but none of them stopped outside the closet. Another five minutes passed and they heard someone shouting from a distance. It vaguely sounded like their name. Could it be the Doctor? Whilst stuck in there, intrusive thoughts had begun to swirl around their head. Had the Angels gotten the Doctor? Would they ever see him again? They should have done something to save him. From just outside the kitchen, they heard a voice.

‘Y/N?! Where are you? It’s the Doctor. I’ve stopped the angels. You can come out now.’

They started to move towards the door and to shift the cabinet to the side. But a thought occurred to them. What if that wasn’t the Doctor? That could easily be an angel stealing his voice to lure them out. But the thought had occurred too late. The doorknob rattled and twisted. They backed as far they could into the cupboard. Closing their eyes in terror, they accepted their fate. There was nowhere they could escape to. They thought ‘Here I go to medieval London, I guess.’

They heard footsteps in front of them but they daren’t open their eyes. Several seconds passed. Nothing happened. Why hadn’t the angel gotten them yet?

‘Hi, welcome to Chilis.’

That sounded like the Doctor, but he was imitating the famous vine. They opened one eye and to their relief, it was truly the Doctor. They were only relieved for a second before they were annoyed at the Doctor. They stood up, punched his arm for making them scared. The annoyance only lasted for a second and then they enveloped him into a big hug.

‘Oww, what did you do that for?’

He rubbed his arm.

‘Don’t ever do that again. I thought the angel had finally found me. You should have heard what it said. It was gonna send me back to medieval Britain. The real horror was that there was gonna be no internet. How was I gonna be able to watch my vines then?!’

They could tell that the Doctor was smiling over their shoulder.

‘What? You were doing it the whole day. I thought it was finally my turn!’

He chided, chuckling.

With the Weeping Angels defeated, they left the haunted nursing home for good and back to the TARDIS. Y/N commented to the Doctor.

‘I didn’t even think you knew what a vine was.’

[euphorickaeya]

100 FOLLOWER EVENT BANNER (CLOSED)

EVENT WISH: WISTFUL GRACE.

honey’s notes: welcome to honey’s 100 follower event! yes I know it has only been two fics, but I thought this would also be a good way to interact more with my followers!

I wanna thank all of those wonderful people who followed me , and are able to join me on my journey to a great blog! I hope you guys countinue being with me as I write more and more fics about genshin impact!!

now, onto the event!

how the event works :

like a genshin banner, there’s 1 star to 5 stars.

one star : how does [character] act when their god..[question of your choice]. (ex. how does Diluc act when their god suddenly kisses him on the cheek?) [sagau]

two star : love/confession letter from [character]. (ex. dearest, y/n…from kaeya.) [non-sagau] ( I don’t take anons for this part of the event, I need a name from you and so I can tag you because the letters for you and you only! )

three star : [event of your choice] with [character]. (ex. beach date with beidou!) [can be sagau-related]

four star : [quote] with [character] (ex. “the world’s ending but I’m here with you, so I’ll be okay.” with dainsleif) [can be sagau]

five star : a AU matchup with a genshin character!! [now I have never done this before so please don’t complain if you don’t like the character I matched you up with! ] [non-sagau] (pls write, your favourite song, your aesthetic, fav romance trope, something about you and your zodiac!)

how to request : all you have to do is send me an ask like this :: “hi! Can I pull a [star of your choice] with [character] ?” If your req has something to do with more info, just add onto it, like this! :: “hi! Can I pull a five star with [character]? my fav song is… and my aesthetic is…etc.”

rules of the event ::

so my rules still apply to this event! So read before requesting please!

this event will only last for two weeks! So from November 9th to 21st, will be ending at 12:00 am MDT.

Please specify the pronouns you’d like for me to use!

any event requests made after the 21st will be deleted, any unfinished requests will still be posted!

I’ve tried to do this type of follower event before, and it kinda failed? So do not be afraid to ask me if something about the event is confusing you! I’ll try my best to give an explanation or an answer! ^^

i will have a list of prompts/quotes for you to choose from, but I am open to any prompts for the four star part of the event! also most of these can be just neutral, they don’t have to be yandere, but please do state if you want it to be yandere!

most importantly, I can only do 2 requests max per person, if you do want to do 2 requests put them in the same ask! It’ll leave me the trouble of looking for the asks that are from the same anon/blog.

and finally, have fun!

𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ::

most of these were from different prompt lists like these: list, list, and list.

ANGST :

“please stop hiding them from me.”

“don’t do that, don’t push me away.” “I can’t help it.”

“you’re the problem!”

“no matter how much I try, I can’t forgive you.”

“I don’t want to be this..person, if it’s not for you.”

“They don’t deserve you, but I do!”

“I will always love you.” “Even if I don’t deserve it?”

“I can’t let you go, please you’re all I have.”

“they’re everything I wanted to be, I can’t compete with that.”

“I know you’re in love with them.” “how’d you know?” “You never looked at me the way you look at them.”

FLUFF / CRACK :

“it’s not an addiction! It’s a coping mechanism..”

“I slept for like..2 minutes.”

“you’re my new pillow.”

“wear what you want, I can fight.”

“the stars are aligned, I’m telling the truth!” “Yeah and they’re telling me to punch you.”

“I’m going to cry if you don’t hold my hand.”

“Protecting you isn’t my duty. It’s a privilege.”

“actually..I kind of missed the feelings of your arms around me.”

“can you just hold me? i don’t want to talk about it..”

“it’s been ages since I had a nightmare..why now?”

“we should skinny dip.”

“oh look at you! Goodness, you’re so cute!”

“tickle!” “Stop it! I’m trying to be serious!”

SUGGESTIVE / SMUT :

“you like getting under my skin, don’t you?”

“too tight! too tight!”

“my bedroom’s on the left, three doors down. you know, if you change your mind.”

“It’s a simple one night stand, or maybe even a weekend-stand, depends on how you perform tonight.”

“I never knew you could dance like that.” “I’m quite flexible actually.”

“you can kiss me, you know.”

“I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“you look good with my hands around your throat.”

“ten? I only need five.”

“you wish my hands were around your throat instead of that necklace, don’t you?”

“what would your people think if they knew you were such a obedient servant for me?”

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[saintobio]

Hi dearest Saint! Hope you had a great day and sending you all 💕 I have a question and not sure how to ask u after all the recent things that happened on ur page. Forgive me I don't want to give off bad vibes, I'm just worried.

It kinda worries me these few days after an anon reader of mine slide in a message, nothing dramatic tho, but just politely asking me if I'm inspired by SN/SY. And then I also saw this Ask of yours and I get a bit more concerned. So I decided to let you know first.

I'm currently writing a jjk fic in a form of otome game styled with different endings. Similar to fate series and Mystic Messenger game with diff endings. But at the moment it started off with Gojo. In contrast to SN/SY, it's the FL that is amnesiac. And also their marriage was a marriage of convenience, consented and not arranged. I do understand that amnesia and arranged marriage genre are quite common in romance melodrama.

So, I think I understand why the anon reader send me the message. Fortunately, the reader is quite polite though, not toxic.

I read sn and sy and followed the entire journey last year. I'm not gonna lie, your writing inspired me to write again. I used to write fanfic about 8y back when I was in college and then I stopped and deleted my acct because of lack of time and work but, I still sumtimes read on Tumblr. I didn't write until last year as I was going through so many things and I found SN. Omg how you wrote it just brings back the fire in me, and I tell myself, you used to love to write,just why don't u enjoy ur old hobby again.

To be very honest, I've read so many manga/manhwa and watched kdrama/jdrama, played otome games and read light novels so I mix and match some stories from here and there, to come up with a plot for my fic and I'm worried if other readers might try to exaggerate and create a drama of a copy/plagiarism issue.

So, I want to be honest, I'm not trying to copy sn/sy, I love your touch in the fic so much I don't want to have a bad relationship with u. If you don't mind, I might want you to see if what I have here right now can cause a problem in the future, which I really want to avoid. If you have suggestions I'm open to amend, even if I have to drop this and start a new one. I really don't mind.

I'm so sorry, Saint. I know recently there's too many things going on. I don't want to add on any so that's why I come to inform you because I don't know, I just have a bad feeling if I continue on writing and then one day, baam someone just had nothing good to say and then boom drama happen. TQ for your time to read this. I can't send you a message so I send in an Ask, I'm sorry for that. You don't have to post this Ask, you can also drop me a message. Thanks Saint 😘.

that’s okay!! thanks for reaching out to me. keep writing as long as it makes you happy <3 what i just don’t particularly like is when people copy the flow of sn/sy’s plot, copy direct dialogues and quotes, and basically use my series as a template for their series (without credit and/or speaking to me abt it first).

sn/sy has lots of inspos too and i make sure to put that on the series masterlist as well as the faqs page. i guess you can do the same with whichever inspos you have for your series :)

[octoberobserver]

Eddie Needs Glasses and Buck Can’t Cope

So this popped into my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down. It may become a larger fic on ao3 if the interest is there lol.

Eddie Diaz had kinda shit eyesight. Particularly when it came to reading. It wasn’t a secret per se, but wasn’t something he actively broadcast either. He had been toying with the idea of maybe trying contacts for the last few years, but ever since becoming a firefighter, he hadn’t bothered seriously looking into getting them as they were strictly prohibited on the job. Lately though, he had been finding it harder and harder to ignore how he was squinting more and more when trying to read the newspaper or when checking texts on his phone.

“It's 'cause you're an old man, Eds," Buck would always cheekily point out whenever he caught him frowning at his screen, insisting it was the brightness level.

“I’m not even four years older than you, Mr Thirty, Flirty and Thriving,” he’d grouse back, knowing it wasn’t really helping his grumpy-old-man image even if he was quoting a 2000’s romantic-comedy that Buck had never seen.

At his last eye-exam (that was mandated as part of his physical to get reinstated after being shot), his optometrist suggested reading glasses. “Just for when you really need them, Mr. Diaz.” Chris had been the one to fully talk him into it. Pointing to his own glasses with a sweet grin and “We can match, Dad.”

So that settled it.

“Oh. My. God.”

Eddie barely hid a wince, tensing up a little as he heard Chimney’s over-the-top gasp from behind him. He nervously touched the side of the frames, adjusting them a little.

“Eddie...you’re wearing glasses,” Chim pointed out as if Eddie had no idea, his voice tinged with awe.

Eddie shot a glance at his co-worker, giving up on the crossword that Bobby had already dubbed a lost cause at breakfast, and turning around.

“Astute observation, Chim,” he smirked sarcastically, “nothing wrong with your eyesight.”

Hen snorted as she joined the table, sitting down to her BLT, “I think they’re nice, Eddie. They just for reading or…?”

He nodded, rolling his eyes at Chimney continuing to stare at him as he took a seat next to his partner.

“Yeah, mostly. I’ve kinda been a bit near-sighted since my second tour, maybe longer. Never really did much about it, but it’s unavoidable now. Chris keeps saying I squint at the TV too much too.”

Hen hummed in understanding, chewing on a piece of tomato as the unmistakable thunderclap of Buck racing up the stairs reached their ears.

“Yo, did Albert leave that—”

Buck stopped dead in his tracks, words dying in his throat as he blinked at Eddie like he had never seen him before.

“Hey,” Eddie smirked, forcing himself not to squirm in his seat under his partner’s laser-focus, “what about Albert?”

Buck shook his head, still wide-eyed.

“Eddie…” he breathed, “you…”

“Got glasses. Yeah.”

A beat passed where Buck’s gaze trailed Eddie’s entire face. He fought the urge to slide down his seat at the indecipherable expression slowly crossing his friend’s.

“You look like Clark Kent,” Buck said finally, his voice sounding as if his brain were miles away from the conversation. “Nerdy in a sexy—”

Eddie froze as Buck broke off.

Buck, for his part, flushed as red as the tomato Hen had just finished eating.

“Uh, thanks?” Eddie mumbled, his heart-rate picking up more than a little.

Hen chuckled into her coffee as Chim cleared his throat in that loud, Dad-way that he had perfected despite his daughter being not even a year old yet.

Buck nodded vigorously before crossing over to the coffee pot, his back conveniently turned.

“So I’m Clark Kent and Chris is Superman?” Eddie felt compelled to ask, trying not to linger on the word ‘sexy’, his gaze zeroing in on his best friend’s broad shoulders.

“Yep,” Buck replied, still not turning around. “Guess bespectacled heroics run in the family.”

Eddie smiled down at his plate, his knuckle brushing against his frames, but not self-consciously this time.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

(You know they end up watching 13 Going On 30 at some point. In fact, I may be writing a fic detailing just that 😂)

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Making memories - a Chenford fanfic

For Chenfordficweek2021 - as described by @therookiebook

Instead of a fic a day for chenford fic week I decided to just write one incorporating as many prompts as possible. This is because when I read them a few just connected in my head and then I had way to much fun seeing how many I could kinda incorporate. Some of the quotes aren’t word for word but the lines are inspired by the original prompt.

*Note: my beach fic was also inspired by this prompt list but I got antsy and posted it early so if you haven’t read it, you can check it out.

Main prompt: Road Trip

Other prompts:

July 11th- 

"Is that you...singing? Since when can you sing?" 

"I wish we could stay like this forever." 

Fight 

"You're comfier than a pillow." 

July 12th- 

With Child(ren)- theirs or not

"I fucked up."

"Where have you been?" 

July 13th- 

"You're crushing me." "I can't breathe with you on me." 

"Stay here." 

"What do you want?" 

July 14th- 

"I'm calling the police." "We are the police." 

"Don't move." 

"That a new dress?" 

Sweet tooth

July 15th- 

Locked out (Car/house/station) 

"Stop hogging all the blankets." 

"Why are you bleeding?" 

"Make me." 

July 16th- 

Shopping together or for the other 

Getting lost

"Is that my shirt?" 

Under the stars

July 17th- 

Competition 

Tears 

"Why are you so late?" 

When Lucy arrives in role call and hears she’s partnered with Tim for the day, she’s excited. When she hears they are to wear civvies and take Tim’s truck to surveil a suspect, she’s confused. And when said suspect drives further and further out of LA and they are instructed to keep on his tail, she’s annoyed. If she didn’t know better she’d think some writer designed the assignment purely because it was convenient for their story. Nevertheless, this is her life: crashing at a random hotel nearly nine hours from LA, after finally being relieved of surveillance detail, by the local sheriffs department, at 2:30am. The plus side is she’s being paid overtime, not only for the late night but also for the commute back to the city tomorrow. The down side is despite being exhausted she twists and turns all night unable to get comfortable in the strange environment. So when Tim knocks on the adjoining door between their rooms at 10am she’s already been up for a few hours. She has written a journal entry in her notes, preordered drinks for them to pick up at Starbucks and spent more time than she’d like to admit on google maps and various travel sites researching their trip home. She has also found time to plunder the continental breakfast and is currently demolishing a strawberry danish and a cinnamon bun. This earns criticism from Tim, whose plate carries sausage, eggs and an orange.

By 11am they’re on the open road again, coffees in the console between them. The small talk they had been making since they left the hotel had slowly died out so now they sit in comfortable silence. That is until Lucy reaches over to turn on the radio. 

“You know how I feel about car radios Chen,” Tim warns in his best TO voice. 

“Even off shift?” Lucy scoffs, and continues to press the on button and turn the volume dial up. Nevertheless, nothing happens.

“Looks like it doesn’t work anyway,” Tim states as he continues to hold the volume down button on the steering wheel, unbeknownst to Lucy.

“Fine then I’ll be the radio.” “You like Lady Marmalade, right?” She’s referencing Tim’s LA CLEAR security answer but she doesn’t wait for his reaction or reply before beginning to belt out the opening lyrics.

As she sings his initially surprised expression, morphs to shock and then awe. 

“Since when can you sing?” he asks when she finishes.

She just shrugs, looking down at her hands as they begin to fiddle in her lap.  

“Now I wish the radio really was broken,” Tim states as he turns it on and music starts playing.

Lucy shoots him a quick death glare before turning her attention back out the window.

---

By noon Lucy’s singing quietly along to the music (causing Tim to reevaluate his opinion on car radios) when she suddenly sneezes then freezes as her eyes go wide.

“Ah, can you stop at the next place with a bathroom?” she asks bashfully.

“We haven’t even been driving that long can you hold it?”

“Find me a bathroom or your truck will be covered in blood,” Lucy says, her tone conveying urgency.

“What? Why are you bleeding?” Tim asks, confused.

“If you don’t know why I, a woman, would be bleeding and thus need a bathroom then the public school system failed you.”

 “Oh, ah, right, sorry,” Tim stutters, “I think there’s a small town at the next exit.”

“Thank-you,” Lucy replies clearly relieved.

“Do we need to find a drug store or do you have what you need?’

“Ya, if you could find a drug store.” She’s fiddling again, unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment even though she knows, rationally, she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Several minutes later Tim’s pulling into the drug store parking lot and Lucy’s unbuckling her seat belt to run in. But as soon as she stands up Tim’s voice stops her.

“Wait Luce.” There’s a tenderness to his voice especially when he uses the new nickname that stops her more than the instruction itself. “I think we’re too late.” 

Lucy looks down at the seat she just vacated to see its center now decorated with a dark red stain. A matching stain is present on the butt of the long yellow dress she’s wearing. 

“Of course,” she spits as she tries to fight back tears that are already running down her cheeks.

“That a new dress?” Tim questions awkwardly, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion.

Lucy lets out a choked laugh as Tim flounders to find something helpful to say.

“I ruined your truck, I ruined my dress and now I have to walk around the drug store with a giant stain on my ass,” Lucy sniffs.

“Hey Lucy, everything’s going to be okay.” He reaches across the console to put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

She stares at him surprised and unsure. The idea of him buying her tampons and pads and, she realizes, new underwear seems uncomfortably intimate.

“So, ah, what do you want?”  

Because she has no desire to walk around the store with a giant blood stain on her butt she gives him her order, eyes down, face turning redder by the second.

He just nods and returns a few minutes later with three grocery bags and immediately hands them to her.

Inside she finds much more than she requested. The first bag contains two chocolate bars, two bags of candy, and two bottles of water. The second holds 6 different packages of assorted pads and tampons.

“How much blood do you think someone loses on their period,” Lucy teases.

Tim gives a small shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you wanted.” 

Inside the third bag Lucy finds a bottle of Advil, a package of wet-wipes, a spray bottle of stain remover, a new package of underwear (simple white cotton), a pair of black tights and a box of black garbage bags. 

“What are these for?” she asks holding up the garbage bags.

“They didn’t have any shirts so I thought we could make some head and arm holes and-“ he stops talking when he sees Lucy’s unimpressed expression. “I know it’s not ideal.” 

“Good thing I already have that figured out,” she says holding up a plaid button up. 

“Is that my shirt?” He had taken it off as soon as he got in the car, since like usual he had a henley underneath, and thrown it into the back. Lucy must of retrieved it while he was in the store. 

“Please,” she says fixing him with those puppy dog eyes. “I promise I won’t get blood on it. Well, I’ll do my best. Please don’t make me wear a garbage bag.” 

He laughs. “I forgot I had that. I guess I didn’t need these.” He takes the garbage bags from her and is about to throw them in the back when Lucy speaks up.

“Actually I’ll take one,” she says ripping the cardboard and freeing a single bag. She proceeds to rip a hole in the top of the garbage bag and pulls it over her legs like a skirt. Then she puts Tim’s plaid shirt on overtop. Tim is watching her with raised eyebrows.

“What? It’s just temporary. I promised I wouldn’t get blood on your shirt.” She puts everything she needs in her bag and goes into the bathroom to clean herself up. When she returns Tim is just finishing cleaning the blood off the passenger seat. 

“I would have done that.”

 “It was no trouble.” “Here spray some of this on your dress before the stain sets,” Tim offers as he hands her the stain remover.

Lucy does then drapes her dress over the backseat.

“Ready to go,” Tim asks.

 Lucy nods and by 1pm they’re back on the road.

 ---

By 2pm they’re both hungry and decide to stop for lunch. The place they choose is a fast food joint connected to a gas station. It’s busy. Probably because it’s the only place to eat for miles around. While they wait in line to order, Lucy goes to use the bathroom, only to find another line just as long. She decides to try the gas station bathroom instead, telling Tim that she’ll be right back but if he gets to the front first he knows her order. He goes to argue but she’s already gone, which is probably a good thing since he has no rebuttal, considering it’s the truth. 

A few minutes later Tim has their food: a veggie burger with extra pickles and fries for her and a burger and fries for him, but she still isn’t back. He wanders over to the gas station to find her standing in line at the register. 

“Put the candy back Chen.”

“Make me,” she says shaking the bags as she holds them by her shoulders.

Tim reaches for them but Lucy moves to evade his grasp. “Too slow,” she teases.

“You’ve already had two pastries, one bag of candy, a chocolate bar and a frappa-cappa-crapacciuno or whatever.”

“It was a chai tea latte and you know it.”  

“It was more sugar than anything and we still have more candy in the car. You’re going to give yourself diabetes.” 

She shrugs. “It’s not a road trip without excessive amounts of junk food.” 

“It’s not a road trip. It’s a commute home.” 

“It’s whatever we make it,” she says as she taps her card to pay for the candy. 

They find a state park a few minutes up the road and unpack their lunch at one of the picnic tables. They talk as they eat, familiar banter flying across the table. As they near the end of their food Lucy is animatedly telling a story about a recent arrest. She has a french fry in one hand and as she gestures, a little too aggressively, a glob of ketchup flies off the end of the fry and right into Tim’s face. 

She sinks down a little in her seat and covers her mouth to try to suppress a laugh.

“Did you just throw ketchup at me Chen?” he glares as he slowly removes the offending condiment.

“Not on purpose,” she giggles.

“If you start a fight you better be prepared to finish it,” he says as he rips open a package of mustard and squirts it at her.

Although it has poor projectile power a small amount lands in Lucy’s hair. She looks back at him mouth wide. “That was on purpose. That’s assault. I’m calling the police.”

“We are the police,” Tim deadpans as he rips the top off another mustard package.

“You wouldn’t” Lucy warns as she opens a mayo.

Then words are abandoned as condiments fly. They go through 5 ketchup, 3 mustard, 2 mayo, 1 bbq sauce, 1 ranch dressing, 1 aioli and 1 pepper packet before they both surrender. In fact the only packets left untouched are the hot sauce and salt. Both their faces are covered in assorted condiments. Most that had been scooped off the picnic table and smeared directly onto their target when it became clear the packets could barely project their contents a foot. The only one that was truly an effective weapon was the pepper which successfully gave Tim a sneezing fit. 

As they sit back down to finish the last bit of their lunch Lucy picks up a fry and runs it along Tim’s cheek then throws it in her mouth. 

“Not bad,” she says as Tim makes a face of disgust.

When the last fries are gone they throw out their garbage, wipe down the picnic table, then turn their attention to themselves.

“It’s a good thing I bought these wipes,” Tim says as he passes one to Lucy. 

She laughs as she takes it and begins to wash her face. 

“Did I get it all?” she asks when she thinks she’s done. “Because you didn’t,” she adds as she reaches up to wipe the side of his mouth.

He’s startled at first then his expression morphs into something she can’t quite read but something that makes her linger just a little longer than strictly necessary. Then she steps away and climbs into the drivers seat and by 3pm they’re back on their way.

---  

By 4pm Lucy’s in the middle of a seemingly endless monologue about the bachelor franchise when she looks over to realize that Tim is fast asleep. She would be insulted but instead she sees it as an opportunity. She starts to take every turn she can. Whenever she comes to an intersection she turns on to the smallest street. By the time Tim wakes up, about half an hour later (of course he would have is body trained to nap the ideal more than 20, less than 40 minutes), they are in the middle of nowhere. She waits until he’s fully awake then slams on the brakes.

“I’ve been shot. Where are we, Tim?” she demands in her best Tim Bradford voice. He looks out all the windows to see nothing but ranches then back at her, confusion clear on his face.

“Did you get us lost just so you could prove a point?” His tone an odd combination of annoyance and amusement.

“We’re not lost I’m taking the scenic route.” 

 “I’m pretty sure the scenic route is supposed to run along the ocean not through the desert in the middle of no where.” 

“We’re not in the middle of no where we are North of Martinus Corner at the intersection of Cross Rd and and Lockwood Jolon Rd,” she brags. 

“Great you know where we are. Do you know how to get us back onto the main road?”

“It’s not all about the destination, you know, It’s about the journey,” Lucy offers. “When’s the last time you did something just for the fun of it.”

“We go for a hike or a walk along the beach with Kojo every weekend.”

“I know I’m fun to be around,” she teases, “but that’s an errand, Tim, the dog needs exercise.” 

“I see your point but what are we supposed to do in the middle of ranch land? You want to go cow tipping?”

“We won’t be in ranch land for long,” Lucy replies, but half an hour and at least twenty turns later they’re still surrounded by fields and livestock.

“Will you admit you’re lost now?” Tim asks.

Lucy sighs, “Fine, can you please google map how to get to Route 1”

“We were on 5.”

“5’s the freeway. 1’s the scenic route,” Lucy explains. “the one that runs along the ocean.”

Before Tim can bring up the app they’re emerging into a small city centre. As Lucy continues down the main street she excitedly points ahead. 

“Let’s go bowling,” she says indicating the bowling alley sign.

“I thought you wanted to go to the ocean.”

“We can still take the scenic route home, after we go bowling.”

Tim sighs.

“Come on let’s have some fun, make some memories,” Lucy encourages.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer.”

Lucy shakes her head and happily pulls into the bowling alley parking lot.

Several minutes later they have their bowling shoes on and their names entered in the computer on lane 4. Tim goes first and immediately gets a strike.

“You want to put money on this game Chen?” he asks cockily.

“Lucky shot,” Lucy replies. “I’m not betting money but if you win I’ll let you pick the route home but if I win you can’t complain when we take the scenic route.

“Deal,” he says shaking her hand.

Lucy goes next and gets two gutter balls in a row. “Why didn’t we get the bumpers?”

“The bumpers are for kids.”

On her third throw she throws the bowl with two-hands after swinging it between her legs.

“Speaking of for kids,” Tim teases.

“Don’t argue with results,” she counters as her ball connects with the pins.

They continue going back and forth, Tim using the classic one-handed bowling throw and Lucy trying a different technique each time. She tries sitting down and pushing it down the lane, pulling out the ball slide meant for toddlers, standing backwards and throwing the ball between her legs but eventually settles on the two-handed granny throw. 

By half-way through the game Tim’s score is double Lucy’s and he starts to get cocky. He throws with his eyes closed, on one-foot and after spinning in a circle 10 times. 

3 quarters through the game the black lights come on and they laugh at each others teeth glowing in the dark. The disco lights and music follow. Then Lucy who had been giggling and joking around all game suddenly becomes serious. 

“I have two more turns and I really want a strike,” she states. She has a couple spares on the board but strikes remain elusive. Tim on the other hand has three.

“Can I show you? he questions handing her a ball.

He initially tries to coach her through the throw but she isn’t catching on so he steps behind her, puts his hand over hers and leans into her back as he guides her through the motion. The ball knocks over all but one pin but Lucy almost misses it because she’s looking up at Tim. He lets go and steps back.

“You think you can do that on your own next turn?” he asks shaking the huskiness from his voice.

She nods. Tim bowls, then it’s the moment of truth as Lucy throws her ball imaging Tim’s arm along hers, guiding it. The bowl rolls straight down the alley where it connects with the pins and knocks them all down. STRIKE flashes on the computer screen as Lucy jumps for joy then right into Tim for a celebratory hug. He’s initially surprised but is able to catch her and himself before they fall over. He spins them around as she laughs and he’s suddenly really glad Lucy made him stop.

With that the game is over. Tim’s still ahead but the margin had narrowed. They return their bowling shoes and head out to the truck.

“Fine you win this time, we can go back to the interstate but I want a rematch. I’m thinking mini-golf or the arcade,” Lucy says as she pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Nah, go to the 1,” Tim says as he starts to read the directions off his phone.

Lucy looks at him quizzically but doesn’t push her luck. By 6pm they’re driving along the ocean.

---

By 7pm, although it’s not that late, it’s already dark. That combined with her lack of sleep the night before is making Lucy sleepy. When she yawns for the third time in less than 20 minutes Tim suggests they switch drivers. Lucy happily obliges pulling into the next rest stop. During the day it would have a beautiful view of the ocean but now all one can see is darkness. The only evidence of the ocean’s presence being the rhythmic, crashing of waves against the base of the cliff below.

They pull into the abandoned lot; Lucy takes her time backing into a spot, mostly just to annoy Tim and they both get out, reflexively closing their doors behind them. As they pass each other Tim holds his hand out for the keys. 

“I just left them in the ignition,” Lucy explains. Tim looks over to the truck then back to her a look of defeat on his face.

“Your doors lock automatically, don’t they?” Lucy asks rhetorically, “I fucked up.” 

They try the doors just in case but sure enough they’re locked. 

“Well it could be worse,” Tim offers much to Lucy’s surprise, “at least it’s not running.” “I’ll call Angela and see if I can convince her to grab the extra set of keys from my house and come meet us but its going to be a couple hours.” 

Lucy nods. “Thank-you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim shrugs, “we’re making memories remember.” Then without another word we walks away from her as he hits a button on his phone and puts it to his ear. The conversation doesn’t last long. Angela obliges but insists that Tim now owes her one. He thinks she still owes him a couple from everything he did as her man of honour but decides now isn’t the time to bring that up. When he hangs up he finds Lucy has lowered the tailgate of his truck, where she now sits. She’s shivering, arms wrapped around herself, but she’s smiling as she looks up at the sky. 

“You can see the stars here,” she explains hearing him approach, “away from the lights and smog of the city.” 

Tim climbs up into the bed of his truck and removes a stack of old moving blankets from the storage box he keeps in the back. 

“Angela’s on her way but in the meantime we should stay warm.” He wraps one around Lucy’s shoulders. Then lays the rest on the floor of the truck bed. 

“Good thing I left these in after helping Tamara move last weekend.” He shimmies his way in-between two layers then taps the spot beside him, inviting Lucy to join. She climbs in beside him eager for more warmth. With the sun gone the temperature had dropped fast. 

Lucy pulls up an app on her phone and hands it to Tim so he can identify constellations for them while her hands and arms stay hidden under the blankets. Then they lay down and look-up at the stars. Tim uses the app to find constellations, points them out to Lucy, then reads the story about them provided by the app. Meanwhile Lucy snuggles deeper and deeper into the blankets. Tim stops in the middle of the story he’s reading about the the swan constellation as the blankets are pulled off his torso. 

"Stop hogging all the blankets,” he complains pulling them back.

“Sorry, I’m freezing,” she confesses. 

He pauses for a second clearly debating something internally before opening his arm out to the side. “Then come closer,” he finally says. 

She hesitates for a second before slowly moving to snuggle against his side. The possibility of warmth far outweighing any awkwardness she’s feeling. She rests her head on his chest. She can feel his heart racing to match her own and can’t help but smile to herself.

“Better?” he asks once she’s finished squirming around trying to maximize her view of the stars and the amount of body heat she’s receiving from him.

”You're comfier than a pillow,” she confirms, nodding. 

Tim doesn’t respond just wraps his arm around her shoulders. He continues to point out constellations and read the stories in Lucy’s app. 

“None of the constellations actually look like their name sakes,” Lucy says after a while.   

“You have to use your imagination.” 

“I could use my imagination to name my own constellations.” 

He shrugs. “Go for it.” 

She finds a cluster of stars that vaguely resembles a duck. She points it out to Tim then makes up a story about a duck that joined the LAPD and saved the city from a gang of geese. When she’s finished she turns to Tim,. “Your turn.”

He gives her his best ‘not happening’ look but he’s met with those pleading brown eyes that hold more power over him than he’ll ever admit and caves almost instantly.

He points out an X made of stars. “That is where the space pirates buried their treasure.” Lucy looks up at him expectantly. “The end,” he finishes.

“That’s your whole story? One sentence.”

“I’m not as creative as you.”

“Then tell a real story,” she says, “here I’ll go first.”

She points to a jumble of stars. “That is Caligula’s toy chest,” she says then proceeds to describe in great detail all the filthy, horrid things she had seen the day he taught her the DEAR method.

“Why would you tell me that?” he asks when she is done.

“Now you share my pain.”

Tim laughs and points at four stars arranged in a rectangle. “That is the phone that was used too much at work.” He spends his entire story essentially mocking her for always being on her phone. Lucy would be annoyed or insulted but the amount of detail he remembers about the completely benign things she has done is kind of sweet and a little exhilarating.

She next finds a ’surf board’ and tells the story of a weekend getaway with some collage friends that ended with a black eye, a broken board and a lot of great memories. 

Tim follows suit finding a ‘football’ and telling the story of a particularly memorable championship game during his high school career. He’s half-way through his story when he interrupts himself. “You're crushing me,” he tells Lucy who is draped over his torso. “What are you even doing?” I can't breathe with you on me."

“I’m tucking in the blanket so our heat doesn’t escape,” she says as she pushes the edge of the blanket under Tim’s side along the length of his body. When she’s done she rolls off of him, cuddles back into his side then tucks the opposite blanket edge under herself. 

When Tim finishes his story they continue to go back and forth, learning more and more about each other each turn. Lucy tells stories from the time she spent travelling and working odd jobs, from her time as a psych major and her time in the academy. Tim talks about his family, his time in the army, and his early years on the force and with Isabel. 

He tells her about a colleague who despite being a great cop made the mistake of using his radio near an explosive and paid for it with his life. He is the reason Tim baby powder bombs every Rookie: so no other good officers will be lost because a critical piece of information was taught so dryly that it couldn’t possibly be recalled under pressure. 

She tells him about her ring as she twirls it around her finger. About how she found it in her grandma’s dress-up chest when she was six and it immediately became her favourite item. How every time she played dress-up the ring was part of the costume, whether she was a princess or a ninja, a cat or a witch, a clown or a police officer. How unlike her parents, who always thought she’d follow their career paths, her grandma always told her she could be anything she wanted. How when her grandma passed away she had found the ring again as she helped her parents pack up her things. How she had started wearing it to feel closer to her. How as she looked at the ring day after day she heard her grandma’s voice in her head:  “You can do anything you put your mind too,”  “the sky’s the limit,” “do what makes you happy.” How that made her realize she was not where she wanted to be and led to her decision to quit her Master’s program.  How her parents had chalked it up to grief and tried to use psychoanalysis to convince her to return. How that had pissed Lucy off and led to her applying to the LAPD. How she had continued to wear the ring as a reminder and motivator during her training. How much it had meant to her to have it returned. How now it not only symbolizes her grandma’s belief in her, but also Tim’s and her own. How it continues to give her strength.

As Lucy talks Tim rubs circles on her back as if connecting the stars that constitute Lucy’s ‘ring’ constellation. 

Just as she finishes she excitedly points up. “Look a shooting star!”

“Make a wish,” Tim advises.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” She surprises herself by how quick and confident that comes out. She hadn’t even thought about it, but it is true. In this moment everything is perfect. She is no longer cold. She is warm and happy in her little burrito with Tim: wearing his shirt, listening to the ocean, surrounded by stars. 

Lucy half hears Tim name a constellation “the best boot I ever trained” and start to tell a Coles notes version of their story but she’s already falling asleep.

She wakes up some time later to Tim shifting beside her. 

“Don’t move,” she groans still half-asleep.“

“Ange is here Luce. It’s time to go home.” 

“Am home,” she mumbles before falling back asleep.

Tim manages to free himself from Lucy and the blankets. He shuffles out of the back of the truck and walks around it to meet Angela who is just getting out of her car.

“Where have you been,” Tim asks. 

“Driving.” 

“I mean, what took you so long?” 

“I thought you might be enjoying your alone time with Lucy more than you’d admit, so I didn’t rush.” 

He wanted to argue but he couldn’t. “Thank-you for coming.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, when your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but a moving car a 4 hour drive is not as inconvenient as it sounds.”

As if to prove her point the infant starts wailing from inside the vehicle.

Before Angela can move Tim’s opening her car door and removing his god child from the car seat. He holds the baby to his chest and starts rocking him. As the baby continues to scream and Tim continues to rock, sway and bounce, Lucy emerges from behind Tim’s truck seemingly woken by the crying.

“There’s my favourite little guy,” she coos as she approaches. “You’ve gotten so big. Next time I see you you’ll be taller than your Uncle Tim,” she continues as she rubs the baby’s back. Despite all the attention the baby continues to fuss.

“He’s hungry,” Angela explains. “Give him this,” she continues handing him a full bottle, “I pumped on the way here.”

“You pumped while driving?”

“It’s called multitasking.”

Tim takes the bottle and offers it to the baby who immediately begins suckling. While the baby drinks Lucy goes back to Tim’s truck and grabs some blankets. She gives one to Angela, drapes another over Tim and the little boy and wraps herself in the last. 

Over the next half an hour Tim and Lucy work together to feed, burp, and change the baby before putting him back in his carseat, all while his mother watches with a very amused expression. When he’s buckled in they say their goodbyes, thank Angela again, then head back to Tim’s truck, which is now unlocked.

By 10pm they are back on the road. They spend the rest of the drive cooing over baby Evers and talking about their own theoretical future kids. While conveniently avoiding any mention of theoretical future spouses or co-parents.

By midnight Lucy is just getting home. As she walks through the door she sees Jackson on the couch watching TV. 

“Why are you so late?” he asks turning towards her.

“Long story.” 

“Is that Tim’s shirt?” 

“Longer story.” 

“Aha,” Jackson says giving her a knowing look.

She just rolls her eyes and goes to get ready for bed. She falls asleep almost immediately and dreams of sweets and stars, babies and bowling and a life with Tim.

[introverted-scribblings]

~Welcome~

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐! 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙸’𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚢. 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖! 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛!

Rules:

This blog is a safe space. I will not tolerate bullying or discrimination of any kind. Please be respectful of me and the people who visit this blog. This blog is a side project for me, just another place for me to post creative writing, so don’t be surprised if I go silent due to life outside of this place. If you have suggestions or questions, please send them, I would love to hear from you! Remember that this is a fun and safe place!

What I will write:

Headcanons

Scenarios

Short Fics

Imagines

Incorrect Quotes (occasionally)

Match-ups (occasionally)

The maximum amount of characters I will write for in one post is four (4). I just don’t have the energy for more than that, sorry!

I can tackle just about any genre and am okay with most things. If you’re unsure, however, just send in an ask and I’ll get back to you!

(If you're making a nsfw request, please specify amab or afab in your request along with the correct pronouns you'd like me to use. Otherwise, I will not write it. Also, this blog is using the "Citrus System" to tag nsfw. Minors-dni.)

Match-up rules:

You may request a character for a match-up or leave it up to my judgment. I will take up to two (2) character requests as I try to make them kinda long. Send as much information as you’re comfortable with and I’ll work with what you give me. Please know that I will do my best with these and hope that you enjoy them.

Please keep requests to fandoms in my list! Thank you!

Fandoms:

⭐ = My current hyperfixation

Creepypasta (simp party)

Legend of Zelda

Monster Prom/Camp

Stardew Valley

Assassination Classroom

OHSHC

Mystic Messenger

South Park

Pokémon ⭐️

Bungou Stray Dogs

Again, if you’re unsure about a fandom (as I don’t have everything listed here) just send an ask! (Masterlists will be added eventually)

Anons:

For my special anons! Tell me your name/emoji in an ask and I’ll put it here!

- 🧸 anon

- 🦝 anon

- 🎼 anon