#anyways i bullshitted this in. like an hour or so i decided halfway through i'd animate a little bit to get used to shit again

[nebuladreamz]

[icysab]

~ badboy!jungkook x smartass nerd!reader ~

genre/what to expect: e2l ft. sexual tension, college au

warnings: swearing, bad grades lmao

wordcount: around 1k

a/n: alr so although this idea might be incredibly overused, i will be using it anyway cuz this fic is v self indulgent lmao. also, this has been sitting in my drafts for like,,, almost a year now, so i just decided fuck it. if ppl like it, maybe ill turn it into a whole fic? idk lemme know what y’all think. but for now, i am not planning on prioritizing updates for this.

also random disclaimer: i don’t know a fuck ton about how korean college works so i’m basing this on the experience in my country. if i screwed somethin up please that’s totally different in korea correct me so i can fix it </3

college had really been a bore lately.

you had been berated by your high school teachers, claiming that "college is harder, professors don't care about you, you have to study," and whatever other bullshit they liked to spew. but unsurprisingly, college was never particularly difficult. and now, halfway through your junior year, you still don't even really bother studying. as long as you don't flunk out, why does it matter? just suck up to the profs a bit, and you're set. who gives a shit if you're a teachers pet when you're on track to graduating top of your class? you never really cared what others thought anyways.

there was only one catch: when you got bored, you tended to slack off. and now, you—top of your class poli sci major—currently has a c- in your behavioral econ course.

and that is certainly not acceptable.

"you know, you're one of the best students in my class. i'm very disappointed in your recent grades".

you force yourself to keep a serious look, and refrain from rolling your eyes while forcing a nod.

you plaster on an expression of false understanding and tell the professor, "i'm very sorry. i really do want to excel in this class," while bowing your head slightly.

he hums to himself, clearly contemplating something.

"just because i know how much effort you put into this class, i'll offer you an opportunity to earn extra credit," he says after what feels like an eternity. "i have a student in econ 101 that needs extra help. if you were to tutor him twice a week, and his scores were to improve significantly, then i'll raise your grade to an a".

you have to prevent yourself from smirking. it really does pay to be a suck-up.

"i'd love to!" you lie between your teeth, giving the poor professor your best faux smile. "i'm so thankful for this opportunity, and i'll work my hardest. thank you!"

well, you certainly dodged a bullet there. or you hoped. as long as the kid you're stuck tutoring isn't a little bitch, then you should have no problem securing your a.

the professor had emailed you the students contact information, and told you to set up meetings with them. all you knew was that his name is justin seagull or something, and he's completely flunking econ.

which, how do you even manage to do? that's like, the easiest class.

not that you're complaining; it works out all the better for you. and hey, maybe you can make a new friend!

earlier in the week, you had coordinated with the dude you're tutoring via email to meet on thursday at 3pm for an hour and a half, which so happens to be today. at around 2:45, during your long break in between classes, you head over to the agreed upon location for your first tutoring sesh: the undergrad library. at precisely 2:55, you take a seat at one of the benches near the entrance of the library, deciding to wait so you don't miss him.

even if you really didn't want to be stuck tutoring, you were still going to put in an effort; you really did want to help whoever needed it. just because you'd rather not spend your thursday afternoons teaching econ doesn't mean you wanted to screw the dude over and waste his time.

you pull out your phone and begin to mindlessly

scroll on instagram out of boredom.

at 3:04, you begin to wonder where he is, and if he's okay.

at 3:11, you start to get a little annoyed, but you try to remind yourself that maybe he got held up somewhere, or somethings wrong.

at 3:32, you shoot him a text.

at 3:57, still no response.

at 4:13, you say fuck it and decide to head home.

at 6 fucking pm, he has the audacity to send you a text.

jk: sorry. i was busy.

what could he have possibly been so busy with that he couldn't of even texted you beforehand, only god knows. all you know is that you're pissed. you had prepared a whole plan for this first session, made a list of important topics to cover, and even did research on the best ways to teach. all for you to be ignored, cast aside like you were unimportant.

you quickly shoot him a text back.

you: whatever it’s fine, let’s just schedule for another day

you: when works?

your phone dings.

jk: idk i have to check with my schedule

god, what a fucking asshole.

you swallow your pride as best as you can and type out a response.

you: well, lmk when you’re free ^-^

your phone dings after a moment.

jk: do we really have to do this?

jk: i mean idk abt you but i don’t really want to spend my time getting tutored

you roll your eyes and grit your teeth.

you: mm that kinda sucks for you but yea we do have to

you: so like i said, when works?

and you know what he fucking does??

he fucking leaves you on read.

that asshole.

you take a deep breath and attempt to calm down before all hell is let loose.

[hamilton-one-shots]

What if you did a fic with 2p! Hamsquad? :00 I'd die for that - Stump Anon 🌳

(I’ve been in love with this idea since I first saw it, tbh

Edited by: @dflwrites

For those who don’t know: 2p! characters are essentially polar opposites of the original character, an idea started in the Hetalia fandom, and, typically, they are murderous or at least can be drawn to it more easily than most. Having said that: 

TW: Domestic abuse, graphic violence, child predators, murder, derogatory language, use of the f word

Also, yes, Hetalia fans, two of these are really close to two Hetalia 2p characters. I tried not to, but they fit so well.)

John sighed and scrolled through his cellphone mindlessly as he waited for his friends to join him at the bar. He’d already had an entire soda waiting for them. He knew that it wasn’t good to have so much sugar, but it had been a whole hour!

As he scrolled, a message popped up from his friend Alexander.

[Lexi :): Hey, sorry, but we’re going to be late.]

John pouted and responded.

[That’s fine! I’ll see you guys when you get here :)]

He sighed and messaged his boyfriend, Hercules, asking if he was joining him, at least. While he waited for a response, he noticed a man messing with the bartender and moved closer to see what the trouble was.

“I already told you, James, it’s over.. Just leave me alone,” she groaned.

The man reached over the bar and grabbed her arm roughly. “Do you honestly think you have a better alternative? We both know you’re leaving here with some loser for whatever he offers you. You might as well go home with me for free.”

“Let me go!”

John looked around to see if anyone was going to help, but they were just a bunch of drunk men, trying to encourage her to just agree to whatever the jerk was saying and to make their drinks. John found it sickening… He took a deep breath before walking over, tapping the man on his shoulder. “Excuse me sir…”

The man rolled his eyes and looked down at the other, scoffing at his pastel blue sweater. “Stay out of this, fag.”

John was hardly fazed. After all, he’d heard much worse and he had to focus on helping the poor woman. “You should leave her alone. I don’t think she wants to be touched and it’s not good for you to force her into anything.”

“Fuck off,” the strange man growled, John catching the strong scent of alcohol on his breath. It was vile.. But useful.

He backed away and moved to another bartender, asking for two shots of whiskey. He took them back to where he’d been sitting before, adding something special to them both, and waited.

Once the man backed away from the girl, John took his chance, walking over with the two shots.

“I’m sorry for earlier… I shouldn’t have interfered. A man has to do what a man has to do,” he shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “What do you say we just down a shot and forget about what happened?”

The other hardly thought before taking the shot that John was offering.

It was important that John fixed both. Some took the one he offered, some took the one he kept toward himself.

John smiled and down the shot at the same time as the man, filtering the disgusting drink through his teeth and reluctantly swallowing it, feeling the capsule that he’d added stopping at his front teeth. He put down the glass and began to walk off, but was stopped by the same man.

“Don’t be a pussy. Take another shot with me.”

“Oh, um… I don’t drink much.. It was just a friendly offer,” John explained, pushing the capsule under his tongue.

“Just one and I’ll leave the bitch alone for a while.”

John winced at his harsh words, but if it got him to leave her alone… All he really needed was a few minutes, but the more time she went without him, the better. So, he agreed and downed another shot, slowly starting to feel its effects.

“You know what? For a little fag, you’re alright,” the man said, clapping his hand hard against John’s back.

John laughed uncomfortably and left to the bathroom, spitting out the capsule and emptying his stomach, just for good measure. It may not dissolve in anything weaker than stomach acid, but stomach acid was something that the drinks had already hit and, oh, how he hated getting drunk. He didn’t like how he acted so wild, so out of control.

Once he was done, he flushed his mess away and walked out, ignoring the screaming crowd that surrounded the corpse on the floor and shooting the pretty bartender a smile, asking for a glass of water.

Hercules dragged himself off of the couch and out of the door in sweats. He was just going drinking, so what was the point in throwing on “real pants” as John called them. He walked down the streets and was about halfway to the bar when he passed a playground. He instinctively turned to look - he had a secret soft spot for kids. Well, and for puppies, but kids don’t make John cry from fear. Anyways, he saw this teenager with a full backpack and a man talking to her. She was clearly uncomfortable, leaning away and taking a few steps back, but he was persistent, moving closer with each step away she took.

Hercules glared and made his way over, pushing the man away from her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What? I’m just offering her a place to stay. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same,” the man grinned. “She’s beautiful. She should find somewhere to stay before some creep snatches her up.” He tried to move past Hercules, but was stopped as he grabbed his shirt collar, tossing him to the ground.

Hercules turned towards the girl. “How old are you?” he asked softly, his demeanor completely changing.

“Twelve… My mom says I can’t go back because I said I’m a boy..”

“That’s awful..” His grip tightened on the man’s collar as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone and headphones. “Here, listen to some music as loud as you can and keep your eyes closed, okay? I’m going to punish him for what he tried to do, then I’ll get you some help, okay?”

He nodded and did what Hercules did, shutting his eyes tight and listening to loud music.

Once it was loud enough for Hercules to hear it, he turned back towards the man, a dark gleam in his eye as he shoved him onto the ground.

“You think it’s fine to pray on children?” he asked, his tone calm as he sent his foot flying into the creep’s spine, making him shout out in pain.

“Hey! Don’t fucking scream. You scream and I swear to god, you won’t be getting away from this alive,” he threatened.

It was that simple. The false promise of life always made them shut up.

Hercules knelt down. “I bet you’ve done this before, haven’t you, you sick fuck?” Out came his pocket knife and in it went to the creep’s right lung. Next, of course, it struck lower, definitely giving the creep the castration he deserved. Those muffled screams were music to his ears, the sound of justice that he knew would never be served otherwise.

“This is what you do to those who you’ve hurt, I hope you know that,” he continued, his voice as calm as ever. “You think it’s cool, you get off on hurting these kids, but it lasts,” he hissed. “People tell them it’s their fault, that they shouldn’t have trusted a man like you. I’m here to show you that your bullshit won’t go without consequences.” He got his knife back. He’d done enough to seal his fate.

Hercules wiped his hands on the creep’s clothes and stood up, tapping the kid’s shoulder and turning them away. “Hey, I’m going to go wash my hands, then I can take you to my place, if you want. Just to give you a place to crash.”

“Did you kill him?..” he asked, hesitantly.

Hercules shook his head. “I just hurt him pretty badly..” It wasn’t technically a lie. “I know his type. He wouldn’t have stopped hurting kids like you if I just let him go. And, don’t worry, I never hurt kids,” he reassured.

The kid hesitated before nodding, deciding to trust Hercules. “I don’t want to go home..”

“And I won’t make you. You can crash with me and my friends as long as you want.”

“Okay…”

Hercules smiled before standing up straight again, going to the bathroom and cleaning up his knife as well as his hands, then taking the kid back to his place, where he knew he’d be safe.

Lafayette stayed outside of the bar as Alexander went with John, just feeling like having a cigarette in the quiet before dealing with all of those people. He stood in the alley and lit his cigarette, smoking in peace until this asshole approached him.

“Hey, honey, what’ll it cost for you to let me smash?”

Lafayette scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please.. You are not worth my time.”

“Alright, what about for a good suck? It’d be a better use for that pretty little mouth.”

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

The weirdo smacked the cigarette from Lafayette’s hands. “Why don’t you get off your high horse?”

That was it. Lafayette grabbed the guy’s shirt and turned him, slamming his back against the wall and spitting in his face. “I recommend you get out of my damn face before you regret it. I can make you wish you were never born. I’ll make you wish you were dead, that you’d never made the mistake of calling me some whore.”

The guy was definitely intimidated. Lafayette looked like he could crush his skull if he wanted to. “Fine, just let me go.”

“Let you go?! Where was the letting me go before you smacked my cigarette out of my hand? Don’t you know better than to touch a smoker’s cigarette?”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Shut the hell up and look me in the eye.”

There was a split second of hesitation, but the guy did just that.

“When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were never-”

Lafayette was cut off by the blast of a handgun going off, a bullet going straight through the stranger’s brain. Lafayette groaned as he was coated in blood and glared down the alley, not surprised to see his boyfriend, Alexander, standing there, John standing beside him with his hands over his eyes.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Lafayette demanded, throwing the corpse onto the floor.

Alexander shrugged.

Lafayette tutted. “Well, you got blood all over me. Now I actually have to shower,” he grumbled before walking over to them.

“Um… The cops are coming… We have to go home,” John said meekly.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “You could’ve started with that.” He pulled off his dirtied hoodie and tossed it into John’s arms. “Happy?” John always bugged him about how long he wore his clothes, but what was the point in washing them if he was just going to wear them again? What was the point in getting new clothes when his own fit him just fine.

John was smart enough not to respond. They may have been friends, but Lafayette wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him, badly. He even called him chubby once. But this wasn’t the time to cry. It was time to go home.

As they began walking, Lafayette followed John in his tank top, his arm around Alexander and his hand resting on his boyfriend’s ass. “Next time, at least give me a warning. It’s not the same as when I inject them, but it is nice to see the light leaving their stupid eyes.”

“Sure.” Alexander didn’t really get it. Lafayette’s way of killing involved too much work. Why would they do that when a gun could do it in half the time? But he didn’t feel like saying it out loud. It wasn’t his place.

“I hope Hercules won’t be too upset that we have to go home…” John commented. “I’m sure he got out of bed and everything.”

“Oh, grow a pair,” Lafayette snapped at him. “I don’t know why you have to cry over everything. You’re such a pussy. Alexander never says anything, but at least he doesn’t cry.” If there was anything that he truly hates, it was men who couldn’t keep in their own feelings, like everyone else.

John felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “Such a wimp.”

Alexander shrugged. John should be able to do what he pleased, right? But it wasn’t up to him to tell Lafayette what to do either.

Besides John’s crying, the rest of the walk home was quiet, none of them expecting the surprise that Hercules had in store.