#((which is arguably where they messed up the most. i mean. what the fuck was that.))

[jeanmoreaux]

also can we pls acknowledge how insane it is of the sabs2 writers to rush their gay couple for literally no narrative reason while completely ignoring a canon lesbian couple that’s right there for them to work with

#the treatment of tamar and nadia in the show is even worse than in the books #they were meant to improve things not make them worse 😭 #the psychic damage this is dealing me. it makes my head hurt i cannot be normal about it 💆‍♀️ #mish watches sab #s&b2 #btw this is not me saying wesper was a reason why tamadia didn't really get any attention #it just goes to show that the writers and producers lay their focus absolutely wrong #prioritising story elements that could have played out later on #instead of focusing on the story of the grisha trilogy #((which is arguably where they messed up the most. i mean. what the fuck was that.)) #tamadia neglect is just a symptom of that. #and ofc the underlying erasure & disinterest of female same-sex couples in media #but that’s an issue in media in general

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Sunday Naps

Summary: It's Sunday, which means it's time for your favorite weekend activity- an afternoon nap with Frankie. But when Frankie finds himself awake before you with an interesting problem, he knows just the way to wake you up, too.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 2.6K (The self restraint on this was UNREAL)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do this irl), VERY CONSENSUAL Somnophilia, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, this is porn with no plot, reader has no physical descriptions (but pls let me know if I missed any!!)Frankie being a menace but also literally the sweetest man alive, Frankie's a Tampa Bay Buc's fan (idk, if he lives in Florida, this makes the most sense to me, I will not elaborate), napping during football bc me too, girl

A/N: This is my first time writing somno so pls be nice, I am NERVY😭 I hope y'all enjoy, Frankie Morales is forever making me swoon, and I just know in my heart that this man absolutely loves to nap and is the world's biggest snuggler 🥺💕 not beta'd bc that's just how I roll

Before you had met Frankie, Sunday was arguably the worst of the weekend days- looming stress of the work week ahead, mettled with to-do’s and other chores before Monday got the best of you. There were very few times that you had found yourself anxiously awaiting a Sunday, but since Frankie? Sundays had easily become one of your favorite days of the week.  

Slow and easy going mornings where Frankie brought you coffee as the sun rose before tangling your bodies between the sheets in a mess of soft and unrushed sex, followed by cuddling and leisurely making your way out of bed for breakfast, awaiting a relaxing day ahead of you. 

Now that it was fall, it also meant football season, and while you didn’t really care either way about the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, you enjoyed any time that you got to spend cuddled up next to Frankie on the couch, considering more often than not, it normally resulted in the two of you fucking during half-time, followed by you promptly napping wrapped in Frankie’s arms for the better part of the 2nd half.  

This Sunday was no different, you and Frankie had found yourself happily snuggled on your couch under your favorite fluffy blanket, Buccaneers game on in the background, Frankie’s arm draped around you as you leaned against his chest, soaking in the familiar warmth and scent of him radiating from the worn cotton of his t-shirt as you felt your eyelids slowly begin to droop heavier and heavier. With the way Frankie had been mindlessly rubbing soft, gentle circles against your back, his thumb dancing in swirling patterns across your skin, it wasn’t long before the comfort of being held in Frankie’s arms had completely washed over you, and you had found yourself fast asleep well before the start of the second quarter. 

What you hadn’t realized, was that Frankie had fallen asleep not long after you, the weight of your body pressed against his, along with the long week he’d had from work and the symphony of melodic snores now roaring from your parted lips and knocked him out almost equally as fast, leaving the two of you in a blissfully happy pile of nap on another lazy Sunday afternoon. 

That was, until, Frankie found himself wide awake well before you with a very curious problem. 

He was hard as a fucking rock. 

Some way or another in your sleepy, napping state, the both of you had rolled over on your sides, Frankie now spooning you with his arm draped over your middle and your ass pressed firmly against his crotch, quickly solving the mystery to the hardon straining at the fabric of his sweatpants. 

But if just your ass nestled against your dick wasn’t enough, Frankie looked over to see that you were definitely also dreaming, and the type of dream you were having wasn’t hard to decipher based on the way you were quietly moaning in your sleep and subtly grinding your hips into Frankie’s lap. 

“Mmmmmmm… Frankie…..” You quietly whimpered, your voice groggy with sleep as you stirred in Frankie’s arms, now finding himself almost unbearably hard at the sight that he’d awoken to, especially now knowing that the dream you were having was definitely about him. Frankie let out a deep, shaky exhale, now more awake than ever as you continued to gently squirmed your bottom half against him, biting down at his bottom lip as you moaned again. 

“Frankie… Oh fuck…..”  

“Fuck…” Frankie whispered, now raging an internal war in his head as he debated what to do next, knowing you were clearly turned on by whatever was happening in your slumber, his cock aching with each second that passed with you spooned against him. 

Should he just try to get up and jerk off before you woke up? Wake you up and then ask if you wanted to fuck? Or maybe… Maybe, he’d wake you up a different way. 

Although he hadn’t done it often, you had made it abundantly clear to Frankie that it had been more than okay to wake you up to sex, and every time he had, you’d absolutely loved it. Frankie had been hesitant at first, never wanting to do anything without your consent, or do anything that would ever make you feel even remotely uncomfortable, but after you had insisted and he had worked up the courage, he knew he had the green light from that point on- And given the state that you were in right now, Frankie was about to make good on your outstanding offer. 

Carefully shifting his body out from behind you, Frankie let you gently fall so your back was resting against the couch, caging his broad body over yours as he worked his way down to the waistband of your pants, gently sliding them off your hips before tugging at your underwear and leaving your bottom half bare for him. 

Frankie sat back on his knees, in shock and awe of the glistening, wet mess your pussy had already become in your sleep just dreaming of him, arousal coating your folds and inside of your thighs as you lazily shifted in your sleep, your legs seeming to instinctually fall open, just for him. 

“Fuck me, baby girl…” He whispered to himself under his breath, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he audibly gulped, his eyes going wide as he locked on to your cunt, already dripping and aching for him. Settling down to lay on his stomach, he carefully lifted up your legs to rest over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your waist, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips while he settled himself face to face with your heat. 

With one long, flat press of his tongue, Frankie dragged himself across your clit, savoring the sweet tang of the juices that had been dripping from your hole, lapping them up with one more lengthy lick, before pulling his mouth away just enough to see how you’d react to the new presence between your legs. 

As if Frankie wasn’t already turned on enough, your reaction was clearly aiding his cause. 

After just one lick of his tongue through your folds, you were already incredibly responsive, your hips instinctively jerking towards his face as a breathy whine escaped from your lips, as if you were already begging for more without having to say a word. A slight smirk began to spread across Frankie’s face as he dove back in again, this time, working himself along your cunt in easy, languid strokes, feeling your body begin to twitch even more with the way he was working his mouth. 

“Mmmmmmm…. Yeah…..” You muttered, still sleeping as you kept bucking your bottom half against his face, only encouraging Frankie to give you more with his tongue, beginning to change his pattern to swirl deliberate, steady circles around your clit, putting more and more pressure into each movement. 

“Frankie….” 

“That’s it, sweet girl…” Frankie hummed, his words rumbling in his chest as his hot breath danced against your core, continuing to coax you out of your slumber, working through your folds and at your sensitive bud with intensifying pace. 

It wasn’t long until Frankie’s careful and meticulous work slowly began to turn more sloppy and desperate, feeling the wet mess you were becoming under his tongue driving him insane, wanting, no needing, to make you cum, to wake you up with pleasure flowing through your veins, turning your sleepy mumbles into cries of his name over and over again. 

Letting one arm untangle around your leg, he brought the hand to your pussy, gently slipping one finger into your aching core, sucking him in with your warm, wet walls, only giving it a few pumps before realizing you could easily take a second, slipping it in to meet the first and curling the pair to brush against the soft and spongy spot inside you he knew drove you absolutely mad. Almost instantly, he could feel your cunt beginning to clench in response, your tell tale sign that you were getting closer and closer to reaching your high and completely coming undone around him. 

“C’mon, querida, I’ve got you, baby.”

Suddenly, your eyes shot open, your heart racing as you felt a familiar feeling building in your belly, the coil inside you already wound so tightly as you let out a ragged moan, lifting your head up to see Frankie nestled between your legs, drinking you up like a man starved. 

“Oh fuck, Frankie, fuck- baby, fuck, don’t stop” You whimpered, shooting your hand down to burry it in the messy, dark curls of his hair, tugging at his locks for any sort of relief as you had awoken to the savory sensation shooting down your spine and through your core from Frankie’s lips latched around your clit and fingers pulsing in and out of your cunt. 

Frankie had barely any time to register that you were now awake, but as you grasped firmer at his hair and let out a ragged moan as you came, clenching around his fingers and gushing with your arousal, it had become very clear to Frankie that he had done his job, and done it well. 

“There’s my good girl. Damelo (Give it to me), Hermosa, fucking soak my face.” Frankie smirked, pulling away to reveal the shiny slick covering his beard, still gently rocking his fingers in the warm, wet walls of your heat as you came down from your high, you chest heaving in low, shallow breaths, mouth hanging open as you let a moan of pure ecstasy fall from your lips. 

“Frankie… Holy Fuck…” 

“Good morning.” Frankie mewled, pulling his fingers out of your pussy, making you hiss at the loss as he laid himself on top of you, swallowing your whimpers in an electric kiss, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips as his tongue swiped across your mouth, silently begging for more. “Must have been some good dreams you were having, querida. You were so fucking wet for me, baby. I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Frankie, please, I need you. Fuck- Fuck, I need you to fuck me, Frankie, please. Need you inside me.” 

“Needy girl. I’ve got you, Hermosa. Don’t worry. Woke up so fucking hard for you, baby. Didn’t stand a fucking chance with that pretty ass all pressed up against me. Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Frankie sighed, reaching down to shuffle his sweatpants and boxers down off his hips, revealing his painfully hard cock, his tip red and weeping with precum, aching to be buried inside you from the moment he had woken up. 

Wrapping his hand around his length, he stroked himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, the two of you letting out a heavy sigh of relief as Frankie pushed inside you, slowly filling you up inch by inch until his tip was kissing your cervix, taking a few moments to let you adjust to the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness. 

His forehead dropped to rest against yours, the shimmering sheen of his sweat making his dark curls stick to him and brush against your skin, his broad palm cupping your cheek as he let your lips lock onto yours again for another tender kiss as he slowly began to thrust in and out of you, taking his sweet time with each stroke. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet and tight, queirda.” Frankie grunted, gritting his teeth as his hips rutted into you, the weight of his body draped overtop of you sending your mind reeling, loving every second of being engulfed in his broadness. “What were you dreaming about, baby, hmm? What were you dreaming about that had you all worked up?” 

Suddenly, Frankie’s arm was wrapping under your legs, pressing your knees to your chest to stretch you open even further, the new position making you breathless as he began to pound into you with more intensity, the room now filling with a mix of your moans and skin slapping against each other. 

“I was dreaming- oh fuck- Fuck, I was dreaming about you, Frankie. Shit- dreaming about you fucking me like this, how good you make me feel.” You whined, Frankie’s grip in the soft flesh of your thighs growing tighter as you locked eyes with him, the dark, chocolate brown pooling with lust watching the wrecked mess you were quickly becoming as your cunt began to clench tighter, and the all too familiar tingle in your spine once again began to creep through your body. 

Your response elicited a low hum in Frankie’s chest, rutting his hips into you with more intensity as he felt your pussy starting to flutter around his cock, freeing one of his hands to snake between your legs, the pads of his fingers putting just the right amount of pressure on your clit to have you screaming out his name as you felt yourself creep closer and closer to your second orgasm. 

“Fuck me. That’s all I want baby, just wanna make you feel good. You gonna be a good girl and give me one more, Hermosa? Cum all over my cock before I fill you up?” 

Frankie could feel his own high slowly approaching now too, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and frantic as he pounded against your g-spot and circled your clit, determined to make sure you came again before he did. 

“Mmmmmhhhmmmm.” You whimpered, your brain barely even able to form a coherent thought, let alone a complete sentence, given how your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head as Frankie’s punishing pace split you open in the best way possible, your legs beginning to tremble while you could feel the knot tightening in your core quickly building up to the point of snapping. “Oh fuck, fuck, Frankie, fuckfuckfuckfuck I’m so close, fuck, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” 

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm crashed through you, euphoria flowing through your veins as you came, every inch of you filling with pleasure as your cunt clamped around Frankie’s length, soaking him in your arousal. Watching you cum was all Frankie needed to follow suit, gritting his teeth as a ragged groan rumbled deep in his chest, pumping a few more times into your heat before burying himself in your warm, wet walls, and milking himself of every last drop as he came, the mix of his spend and your slick leaking and coating the inside of your thighs

Letting his body collapse into yours, he draped himself on top of you, your chests rising and falling in sync with heavy, heaving breaths, the both of you trying your best to regain your composure before Frankie gently pulled himself out, making you hiss at the loss of his fullness as he flopped over next to you, planting a soft kiss on your lips as lay his arm across your stomach, pulling you into him. 

“Jesus Christ, Frankie… That’s one way to wake up from a nap.” You giggled softly, raising your eyebrows at him, softly biting down on your lip. 

“Was that okay?” Frankie asked, shifting his hand up to gently cup your face, stroking his thumb in lazy circles around your cheek, staring back at you with his sweet puppy dog gaze. “I know I’ve done it before but I just always wanna make sure you feel good and-” 

You caught the rest of his sentence in your mouth, swallowing his words in another long, and tender kiss, pulling away from his plush lips to peck a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, giggling once again. 

“God, I love you. What did I ever do to deserve you, Fransisco Morales? Yes, baby it was more than okay. So okay that in fact,” You huffed, wrapping your arm around Frankie’s waist and letting your head fall to lay on his chest, “I think I need another nap.”

@bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog @jaciejay13 @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @lola8888673 @persephone-girl @copperhalfcent @innerpersonunknown @messinadresss @devineconjuring @endlessthxxghts @cool-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @messinadress @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @ilovepedro @pascalscoffin @missladym1981 @ilovepedro @itsokbbygrl

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie morales imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedrohub #pedro pascal character #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom

[wing-ed-thing]

Three-Man Squad Relationship Headcanons with Itachi and Kisame

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Language, Canon-Typical Violence

𓆃 Oh, you thought you were safe because you got placed with these two? 

𓆃 You thought they were level headed? You thought that because Itachi seemed the quiet and respectable type that you were placed in a normal team? Yeah, that’s called a false sense of security.

𓆃 Kisame is the most personable by default since he’ll talk more and it’s not horribly difficult to build a working friendship based on mutual respect and sparring to pass the time.

𓆃 With lots of time and how boring travel is, Kisame is all too happy to suggest that you test your skills against each other. The more evenly matched, the better. Whether it’s hand to hand or weapon to weapon, Kisame insists on making it a game to pass the time.

𓆃 Each time, he’ll push it a bit further. Maybe he’ll continue to swing when you’ve tapped out. He couldn’t “hear you.” Perhaps he’ll initiate a surprise attack to start your sparring session, shouting out only a word of warning before swinging Samehada at your head.

𓆃 Each swing is a death blow. Kisame does not hold back during sparring. He does not consider sparring practice in the sense that he is conscious of your safety. 

𓆃 Every time he initiates fighting with you, the closer he toes the line to actually killing you. He plays rough and if it’s allowed to go on without you noticing, it will never stop.

𓆃 Luckily, he seems to get bored quickly. Pulling out too many new or otherwise flashy moves is sure to hold his interest and elongate the match. 

𓆃 Your abilities will garner great respect from Kisame and he’s not afraid to praise you often. This praise often comes with sharp slaps to the back, head, and behind as he seems to genuinely enjoy having a buddy who he perceives to be on the same wavelength as him.

𓆃 High respect, high loyalty, strong friendship, and killing you is a part of the circle of life. If you don’t want to die, then don’t!

𓆃 Itachi is quieter but arguably worse. He’ll hardly engage you, which often includes flat out ignoring many of the things you say. 

𓆃 He’ll give you the cold shoulder to the point where it’s almost easier to talk at him. Sometimes when Itachi’s alone, you’ll join him where he is to talk. And he won’t stop you. He’ll never say you’re disturbing him, and just let you talk at him about whatever you want.

𓆃 And then when he does say something to you, he’ll sprinkle in little personal details you completely forgot you told him.

𓆃 “Don’t you have a great aunt from this village?” “I thought you didn’t like that kind of grain.” “This is why you have acute shoulder pain and soreness in your knee—”

𓆃 You used to complain about the things in your life that were bothering you until you realized that Itachi didn’t pull his punches. Everything is on the table from your relationship history, to psychoanalysis, to dissections of your every decision. It doesn’t matter what it is because Itachi has honed into it and will place you on the hot seat with just a few brutal words.

𓆃 And then sometimes, you won’t remember interactions with Itachi at all. Sometimes, you are somewhere else completely and you snap back to reality just in time to see Itachi’s sharingan extinguish.

𓆃 How long were you gone? Where did you go? What caused it? Who knows. You’ll never know if Itachi got annoyed or if you fought or even if he was just messing around with you. Itachi is not above flexing that he is ultimately in control of the team.

𓆃 He’ll just show you things under his superior genjutsu. That’s his fun. He likes to sit across from you showing you things and you know what? You’re none the wiser

𓆃 You’ll bring something up that “happened” on your travels to Kisame and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

𓆃 Welcome to Team Mind-Fuck

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#itachi x reader #Itachi uchiha x reader #kisame x reader #kisame hoshigaki x reader #kisame x reader x itachi #Itachi x reader x kisame #naruto x reader #naruto headcanons #naruto headcanon #Itachi headcanons #kisame headcanons #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #x you #x reader #reader insert #akatsuki x reader

[biteforblood]

cw : spoilers for the darlin’ / vampire storylines, biting / turning + unaliving

as we know, sam hasn’t bitten darlin’ yet. there hasn’t been much discussion between the two about it, at least not that we’ve heard in audios, they haven’t sat down and gone much into it; there may be a few small instances, but again, it’s nowhere near as in depth as vincent was with lovely or sam was with his turning – the latter which i’ll touch on in a minute.

someone who has mentioned it is quinn in one of his audios ( Your Mate Confronts Your Cruel Vampire Ex ) where he points out how sam hasn’t bitten darlin’ yet and there is this obvious tension surrounding it. and, obviously, most of that tension comes from the situation and the direness of it and just quinn as a person / character. but it serves as confirmation to us – the audience / listeners – that sam is still yet to bite darlin’, if at all. ( yes, i know it’s a slow burn, that’s not my point right now /lh )

now, when you look back and remember sam’s turning, it makes a lot of sense. for the unaware, spoilers coming up from here and down, so if you don’t wanna know, scurry off.

sam was turned by his then girlfriend ( or, i guess, “girlfriend” as they were more fuck buddies with one-sided love on alexis’ end ) following a car crash that nearly kills him. what makes his turning even more tragic aside from, y’know…a car crash, is it’s not something he wanted. he expresses this not only to alexis at the time, but darlin’ as well whe he’s recounting the memory to them.

nearly every other instance of someone being bitten ( by a vampire ) has been tragic and / or violent. vincent was turned by william to save his life after nearly dying from the rollercoaster crash. lovely was turned by vincent after nearly dying from an attack during the inversion. quinn and adam as whole characters with darlin’ and lovely, every bite with them ( both that we’ve experienced and heard ) has lacked real tenderness or arguably consent. again, sam was turned by alexis after nearly dying from a car crash.

even in the imperium. imp!damien is turned by imp!sam for really no reason to my knowledge, imp!huxley is turned by imp!damien for selfish means, imp!ivan is bitten by imp!baby for once again selfish means, both imp!vincent and imp!adam bite and drink from imp!lovely – and then imp!vincent later using them as a thrall which is a whole nother mess.

then there’s fred and bright eyes. though they’re sadly no longer on the channel, we do have some scraps of what happened thanks to sam in one of quinn’s audios ( Your Mate Confronts Your Cruel Vampire Ex ). fred was turned by sam after a bloody altercation with quinn, then fred turned bright eyes shortly after.

you can even pull adam and william into the mix! we don’t know how their turnings went, but we do know they both k*lled their makers. and, again, we also don’t know the reasoning behind why ( at least not that i personally can remember ), but the fact that they k*lled their makers at all…i don’t need to be the one to tell you how violent m*rder is.

off the top of my head, there are at least three instances where someone is bitten and it’s not violent or tragic, and those occur in:

( Flirty Vampire Loses Control ) after scaring off adam, vincent drinks from lovely’s wrist – this one is debatable cause…adam

( Your Flirty Vampire Boyfriend Finally Bites You ) vincent drinks from lovely’s neck and the mood is very sweet and intimate

and vincent ba’s where again he ( and i believe lovely as well ) drinks from them and the mood is again sweet and intimate.

( side note : i love how all three are vincent. )

when you compare the non-tragic bites and turning to the tragic, they make up a mere 3 out of roughly 13. it doesn’t even make up half! like…dude! no wonder sam isn’t ready to bite darlin’. even when you remove both of their individual trauma’s surrounding biting and turning, there are all these other instances.

sam was there after vincent found and saved lovely from adam; he was there with darlin’ and david during the interrogation of quinn; he was there when vincent turned lovely during the inversion. add onto all of this even more reason behind sam’s hesitance to biting given to us in Your Mate Confronts Your Cruel Ex. then, when it comes to darlin’ solely, who knows how many people they potentially saw quinn turn if not straight up k*ll.

i know a lot of people want sam to bite darlin’ ( though it may have tempered down a bit after the quinn arc ), and i’m sure it will likely happen, it’s just a matter of when. but what i feel makes it so much more not only bittersweet, but heartbreaking, is why it hasn’t happened yet – at least not narratively or in-character wise.

the trauma they both have combined and separately, the instances we’ve seen turnings and bites happen across videos, the ways it’s been described by vincent and sam. it was something big for lovely and vincent, and the same will be true for darlin’ and sam. and i hope when it happens, that it will be handled with the care and patience and respect it deserves.

feel free to respectfully share or add your own thoughts, opinions, ideas :)

#[ ✶ . kiss me sweet ] #cw: violence #cw: death #redacted audio​ spoilers #redacted asmr spoilers #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted quinn

[transingthoseformers]

.... okay just some pure self-indulgent nonsense what if for the SG OP replaces BL OP.

So BL OP somehow returns. And obviously, there'll be conflict between him and the Decepticons. But Megatron starts to appear less and less, and he's only facing SG OP on the field.

He and Megatron used to be friends. It could be valuable tactical knowledge to see if this mockery of himself has usurped Megatron. So he asks where Megatron is.

And SG OP's reaction is quite unexpected. He turns furious, snarls at Optimus and there's definitely possessiveness and jealousy in his EM field. Optimus is left very confused.

Through whatever means, they discover exactly why Megatron hasn't taken to the field in a while. He's carrying.

Which BL OP is surprised to find he has a lot of conflicting emotions about. He knew Megatron was in love with him, etc. It's a mess.

SG OP seems to think BL OP will try to steal Megatron from him and ends up threatening Ratchet to keep BL OP away.

Ohhhoh now that? That is going to go in so many interesting directions.

So, so many interesting directions.

I feel like the conflict will be ~different-y~ since SG Optimus came. The vibe is just. Different now. BL Optimus came back to one hell of a wrecked situation that fucked with the war so much.

The partitioning here of BL Megatron's role and SG Optimus's role is so cool, because I'd argue rn he's the SIC. Idk if this is during BL Starscream's rogue era, or if he's straight up been kicked out of the position, or if I'm just wrong

BL Optimus is right here because from what he's seen? It's definitely a reasonable scenario, SG Optimus becoming the leader of the decepticons.

I feel like either someone blabs and there'll be consequences to them for this, it's found out through espionage, or if SG Optimus says it during battle.

Oh how that would happen. This version of BL Optimus, BL Megatron, and the state of their Megop situation sits on the wrong side of "it's complicated" territory.

Yeah that sounds like a SG Optimus decision. Dude has reasons to think he's gonna be forcibly replaced (see: SG Goldbug, SG Prowl, and SG Ultra Magnus so very much), makes sense he'd apply that earned paranoia here. So of course, he goes for arguably the one person BL Oppy cares about the most: BL Ratchet.

#maccadam #transformers #sg Optimus prime #... should we be putting an au name on these? #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #megop #opiratch #tfp megatron #transformers prime #transformers shattered glass #oh i 100% thing bl megs is still making the strategic decisions while on the nemesis #BL megs calls the shots and SG Optimus carries them out (... usually. there's a lot of wiggle room for him here) #oh or I'm wrong #tfp through the glass au

[lara-cairncross]

I’ve been seeing a few people mention how much they want some kind of flashback to baby/kid Hunter, and the more I mull it over, the more I think we might actually have a good chance of it happening in a later episode!! 

For one thing, Hunter is the only member of the Hexside Squad whom we haven’t seen a younger version of. Amity and Willow had their own flashback-filled episode in the first season, “Understanding Willow”; Gus got a flashback during “Labyrinth Runners” of when he first met Willow as younger kids; Luz got  those video recordings of her younger self during “Thanks to Them”; and even Vee got flashbacks to her past/younger self in “Yesterday’s Lie”. And yet, Hunter— who arguably has one of the most interesting and allegedly messed up backstories of any character in the series— has had nothing so far beyond his own recollections to Gus.  This isn’t any kind of hard evidence, but I think it would be cool of the crew to show us flashes of every character’s childhoods, at the very least so we can draw comparisons between them. Also, I just think it would be super adorable to have the full collection of baby Hexside kids!! 

Secondly, based on that one interview, season three is supposed to be heavily focused around the themes of both grief and neurodivergence. We’ve already seen a bit of this in “Thanks to Them”, but from what it sounded like in the interview, there should be more to come; and I’m hoping part of it will be focused around Hunter and being autistic. Most of the fandom (myself included, I kin him so hard) already headcanon Hunter as autistic, and it seems like the crew is writing him that way. I think some kind of flashback or memory-dive via the Mindscape would be a great way to show other autistic traits via a young Hunter, before he started masking so much. It could even show the process of Hunter starting to mask, which could be a really important theme in a kid’s show for ND children! Again, not hard evidence, but something I think could be really beneficial! 

Thirdly, I think there might genuinely be some kind of build-up being laid out in “Thanks to Them” for Hunter’s full backstory. Not only did we have small instances of Hunter revealing parts of his time in the castle, such as the bowing to Camilla and the conversation he had with Gus, but we also have more information on the Wittebros’ backstory and what happened between them. These hints, at least to me, make it seem like the crew is planning to revisit the whole picture later on— everything that happened with the Wittebane family finally laid out for us, Hunter included. Additionally, with all the obvious hinting towards Hunter growing up as an abuse victim, I can imagine some kind of storyline in a later episode where Hunter gets to finally confront Belos following their “meeting” in “Thanks to Them”, and exposes some of the truly horrifying things Belos has done as his guardian (the goop spikes are what I’m thinking of, we all know how Hunter got that scar). Naturally I’m hoping he gets retribution, but I also think a situation like this would be a good way for the crew to sneak in flashbacks to his childhood growing up in the castle and show what abuse can look like. It just feels like an important message to put in a kids show, especially one that’s dealt with other topics like losing a parent and LGBTQ+ themes. Long story short though (sorry for the rambling), the direction it seems like they’re taking following the possession storyline seems like it sets up a few possibilities for a Young Hunter cameo. 

Lastly (and let’s be honest this is probably my best “evidence” lmao), we have this image done by one of the crew members, and it’s caption!

I mean. “See you in our memories”?? Paired with the GG mask and the staff in the dirt?? This just screams to me that we’ll be getting some kind of plotline with Hunter’s mindscape, or at the very least, Hunter’s memories and past. And if that’s the case, I think we have a fucking good chance of seeing baby Hunter!!! 

Anyway this whole post is just me being excited cuz OH MY GOD I WOULD GIVE MY LEFT ARM (sorry eda) TO SEE BABY HUNTER,,, THATS MY BOY MY SON MY ANGEL MY BLORBO MY SKRUNKLY MY LITTLE WET CAT !!! I WANNA SEE KIDDO HUNTER !!! Literally if that’s the only thing I get in the next episode I’ll be happy, RIP my mental stability until January ig. thanks for reading my rambles idk how coherent this was <3

#toh hunter #hunter toh #hunter wittebane #toh #the owl house

[ashtraythief]

I notice in that, “so you think Sam and Dean want to have sex post?” It says that only one of them realizes how messed up that is. I have to admit I dropped off the last couple of seasons and only watched the finale. Seasons one through five hold my heart, and I’ve re-watched them like a million times. But yeah, I don’t know what they mean… Which Winchester knows how messed up it is? I think maybe Dean, though I do feel like he’s the one that’s most devoted to Sam. I mean, both of them are devoted. Do you know what that line means haha?

Oh, what an interesting question in response to this beautiful post. (I have no idea what OP meant and it seems the account is deactivated, but since you asked, here are my two cents. Which are different from your idea, so this should be interest 😅) My initial gut reaction thought was Sam. Sam knows. Because in the beginning of Supernatural, Sam's the "normal" one. He's the one who wanted a normal, apple pie life, he's the one who went to college, who broke out of their weird isolated family unit. And when he goes back on the road with Dean at the beginning of season one, he firmly plans to go back on the road, even stays in touch with his friends. Dean's the one who wants Sam back, who wants to go back to their original family unit which arguably was isolated from most other people, and didn't give the boys the opportunity to have longer friendships. Dean's totally fine with it, wants it back, while Sam wants his Stanford life. Or so he thinks. What I find really interesting is now that their dad is gone from the equation, Sam no longer wants to leave Dean. I'm not sure when he decides, Scarecrow is definitely a game changer and then of course Dean makes a deal. And here is the big shift. Like Dean's the originally insane one who sells his fucking souls because he can't bear for Sam to die, but once Dean's life and soul is threatened, oh boy. We saw glimpses of Sam's devotion to Dean throughout seasons one and two, like in Faith where he didn't look the gift horse of pastor Roy in the mouth until Dean makes him investigate the deaths. And then season three, my beloved. Sam's descent into madness trying to save Dean. Working with a demon? Sure, why not. Sam's careful (lol). Using an evil, organ-snatching doctor's formula? Let's do it! Yeah, Dean's soul selling was nuts, but Sam is right there with him. And then there's season five, where Dean splits from Sam because they're each other's weakness and the bad guys know it too. Sam's the one here who's protesting, Dean needs to time travel to get out of his head. And I think from then on forward, both of them know and just kinda don't care? Dean has this phase at the beginning of season 6 where he thinks he can have it both, the normal life with Lisa and Ben and hunting with Sam and sure, the breakup is forced by his vampire misstep (honestly, the writers were cowards here, they should have let them break up slowly and painfully because Dean was on the road more than he was at home which is what I think inevitably would have happened if he hadn't gone all aggressive vamp on Ben and made Lisa break up with him), but Dean still chooses Sam. And then they keep choosing each other. No matter what the writers throw at them lol, they overcome it. And I think towards the end, the late season domestic phase post season ten, I think they both know how weird it is, and they just don't care. They're good with who they are. And while the last five season have the weakest myth arcs and I think mostly weak motw eps, Sam and Dean's relationship, the fact that they chose each other again and again and are now settled and domestic and a unit that is happy being a unit which is so earned after all the bullshit, all of this portrayed by J2's insane chemistry, that was the part that made the other crap bearable. And that's what allowed the show to beautifully culminate in Carry On.

#anon ask #spn meta #wincest #adjacent anyway

[leqclerc]

It hurts to admit but I think Charles needs to jump before he gets pushed out of Ferrari. I know there isn't a team on the grid that's a clear upgrade on Ferrari (aside from Red Bull) but the vibes are so rancid right now and the narrative is so out of control that I really do think he needs to get out.

🫱🏻‍🫲🏻 Definitely agree about the last part, somehow this year feels even more rancid to me than last year. They fucked it but at least they fell from the top and at least for a while Charles had something tangible to fight for. This year I'm just kind of looking forward to the season running its course, which sucks, because the autumn stretch is usually one of my favourite parts of the season.

The reverse-Seb, Charles to Red Bull as Max's replacement fantasy is always so indulgent 😭

Unfortunately (besides everything you've mentioned, which is that on paper at least there is no alternative for him at the moment, nothing that would count as a lateral or upwards move) while he sure seems to be on the same trajectory as Seb, right now I think it's in the sense of possibly hurtling towards a bitter ending faster than any of us could've anticipated. Like Seb, I think he'll show a willingness to stay even after the team decides he's past his expiration date and they're already looking to replace him with the next new shiny thing. It seems it's always the ones with the most heart and passion for the team, who see it as something more than just another career stepping stone, that get screwed in the worst way at the end. 😵‍💫

I mean, if everything that's happened up to this point—the lack of clear hierarchy with a championship on the line, the strategy mess, the mistakes, the wonky car development, the internal politicking—hasn't pushed him to the edge, then I'm not sure what will be that straw that break's the camel's back. As exciting as the rumours of him being a hot commodity and being reached out to by representatives from other teams are/were, I think at this moment in time at least, he doesn't envision his future anywhere other than at Ferrari. Which, the commitment is admirable, but the long-term prospect and the quiet but persistent time pressure (younger talents coming in, with every passing year there's more scrutiny and less leeway, etc.)... gotta say, right now, it's looking bleak.

Obviously no one can accurate predict the future, especially in a sport like F1, where sometimes everything is stable and then suddenly she's delivering a wild silly season and it feels like all the doors of opportunity have swung wide open. A whole bunch of contracts are expiring at the end of next year, some in 2025... there will surely be a scramble to overhaul lineups before the next regulation cycle comes into effect in 2026. We might see some surprises yet, although in my heart of hearts I feel like Charles won't be one of them.

And it's always like, "oh you're a fake fan for even thinking about this." There's nothing wrong with having a discussion about all the possibilities while acknowledging what Charles is like and where his heart lies. More than anything I want to see him succeed and achieve that ultimate goal at Ferrari, with Ferrari. I don't want him see him chased out of the team and community he's been a loyal, dedicated member of since he was still arguably a kid. But at the same time I think it would be a waste of his immense talent and frankly just sad if his career fizzled out and he was little more than a footnote in the history of the sport despite all the promise and all the hype and all those moments of motorsport magic that I know he can and has delivered. Ferrari getting it together and placing him at the heart of their project—not just through their words but visibly, through their actions, and not just as a one-off—is and always has been my number one scenario. But this is a team that hasn't been able to reach the highest heights for almost two decades now. It's not unreasonable to speculate and discuss alternatives and contingency plans.

#replies #anonymous #discussions and predictions #long post #this is always such a difficult topic bc yes he IS ferrari he is seb's successor in every way that matters he is the heart & soul #but on the other hand sometimes love and dedication and loyalty and devotion is not enough and this is a competitive sport #and realistically you need the tools and environment to thrive and maximise your potential to reach for the championship #which in itself is a herculean task that requires you (and the team) to maintain the highest level across ALL the weekends of the season #everyone pegged him for imminent success after his meteoric rise but now all of that has stalled given ferrari's limitations & setbacks #like damn more than anything i wish we had a real life sliding doors situation going on. how is parallel universe charles doing #i want to see these scenarios playing out side by side yknow? idk i think it's fascinating to speculate on what could be

[haybuhay]

i am asking you about dermabrasion by pennydaniels 👀

THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTION!!! IM NOW GOING TO GO CRAZY !

DERMABRASION BY PENNYDANIELS is a canon divergent BNHA fic focusing mainly on Todoroki Shouto and Dabi’s relationship if Shouto had figured out his identity and tracked him down at the start of the UA school year. It is over 400k words, 41 chapters, and is one of my favorite BNHA fics (or just plain fics) ever. I cannot recommend it enough.

I will try SO HARD not to spoil anything in this rant/essay in case you haven’t read it… But minor spoiler warning anyway in case I mess up.

Some of the stuff I’m going to talk about is waay down the line (like 40 chapters out of 41 chapters type of down the line) but the fact that you know it’ll happen won’t take away from the joy of reading it because the execution is just that good. Probably. The build-up to these moments is just as good as them happening, if not better, I SWEAR.

OK. RANT BEGIN.

For reference, this fic began December 2020 and finished January 2023!! We got the Dabi is a Todoroki reveal November 2020 and then more about his backstory February 2021.

So this means that Dabi’s characterization and backstory here aren’t 100% canon compliant. Despite the fact that it’s in AU territory, the fic handles Dabi’s character and motivations really well?? Arguably, its because it’s not canon compliant that the fic is able to give us such a good insight into his character... Wow… When authors can expand on existing narratives while staying true to the essence of the characters… 😍…

Dabi’s motives, which I think are actually super close to canon (!!!), and how they inform his choices within the timeline of the fic and in his backstory make me so crazy. I am going to be cryptic and just say that the glimpses we get of young tweenage Touya in this fic is everything to me. His whole relationship with Endeavor at literally at any point in the story is especially well done…

A large part of this fic’s appeal to me is how it handles Endeavor. I am a huge fan of the Todorokis’ whole plot and since Enji is the dead centre of that fucked up family storm, I think getting him right is probably one of the most pivotal points in writing fics that puts emphasis around literally any Todoroki. Not even just how Enji himself is, but also the way other characters think about and act around him should be given thought and written with care... Dermabrasion does him, his affect on his kids and his wife and his development so much justice.

The fic begins with Season 1 Shouto’s Endeavor hatred. His vehemence for the guy is so obvious even in just the first few paragraphs where he dubs him ‘that fucker.’ He does this consistently throughout the fic LOL

Tbh. This put me off the fic a little, since I’m not interested in reading Endeavor-bashing fics (no matter how deserved they are HAHA) but I just got over myself and realised no, yeah. This is in character, it is completely understandable and a little hilarious...

What I like here is that his feelings towards Endeavor (negative or otherwise) aren’t a static thing — it progresses not just as Endeavor changes, but as he grows closer in understanding Dabi and the rest of his family and as he, himself, grows up. It’s so rewarding to see it unfold throughout the storyline little by little. I want to say that it happens in the background but honestly Endeavor haunts this entire fic. It’s not that he’s always there. Honestly, he doesn’t show up that much, but it’s only by virtue of his actions that this storyline exists at all so it’s like every action taken is an echo of his. Something about how even when he’s not there, everything is always about him and what he’s done. It’s great, and I mean that genuinely. I love this so bad.

Shouto’s character here is perfect for this sort of fic, I think. He’s stunted and it’s openly acknowledged by other characters how… weird?? he can come across. I think it just makes his arc all that more apparent... He becomes somewhat of a moral paragon and I’n not even upset about it. His development as a character is thoroughly explored and so hard-earned that his transformation from a dead-faced, dead-eyed kid to who he is at the end of the fic is just. rewarding.

AND ITS NOT JUST HIM… Almost every main-focus character goes through some sort of gratifying journey and are made to reckon with parts of themselves that in Dabi’s case, would mean redefining his entire identity. You can tell that all the characters in this fic want to be better, not just for themselves, but for the people around them. It’s one of my favourite things about this fic, how personal improvement is such a huge part in it. This is definitely the Mob Psycho 100 lover in me speaking.

(Side tangent: MP100 being a story about an overpowered, stoic, repressed kid who, with the company of a dubiously moral older brother figure, learns how to become a better version of himself and by doing that, he inspires those around him, including that dubiously moral older brother figure. This is Dermabrasion in a different world. If you love MP100, I will eat my entire shoe if you don’t enjoy Dermabrasion too.)

While the focus is definitely mainly on Shouto and Dabi, the entire family has their part in it. Natsuo, Fuyumi, Rei and Enji all get their moments to shine and show their growth and unique personalities. A fun thing about this is how similar Shouto and Enji are… I think it really drives home that they’re family.

I don’t think this is a huge spoiler, since it’s kinda implied in the premise, but when Natsuo reunites with Dabi the interaction is so. Real. And the fact that it takes time and effort for their relationship to be built back is so poignant and crazy and SICK. Everything in this fic is earned through a lot of tears and pain and misery. It’s a cathartic read.

Okay, now that I made it sound like the entire fic is just one huge therapy session, let me mention humour once then immediately go back to doing that HAHAHA I think this fic is funny as hell. Humour is subjective, yesyesyes, but it grew on me and it WILL grow on you. The back and forths between characters, Shouto’s natural temperament making him predisposed to being absolutely Comical, the inherent comedy of being in a Hero Society... As someone with siblings the way the Todoroki siblings interact here, fights and messy reuniting shit notwithstanding, has so much of the annoyed love and care that you get from the people you grew up with. I particularly like Fuyumi and Natsuo’s dynamic together.

They’re outcasts in different ways than Dabi and Shouto are outcasts. The guilt and remorse they feel not just from not being able to step in for Shouto, but for leading their own lives is GAHHH. The entire thing about being in a different world to their brothers and dad is … Augh. Heroes and Villains.

Rei. Rei… I am GUTTED by every scene she is in. I reread ‘when your love has always been enough (for me)’ by classicequinox to cope. That is a different post to make one day when I have the energy.

Idk if I said all I wanted to say. There’s definitely more to this fic. DabiHawks, for one. I think they’re great here. Somehow they AREN’T horrifically toxic, WOO!! The details of this I will leave for you to read… Another thing I like about this fic is how 1A reacts to Todoroki family lol. LOV also has its part in this fic, I think it is sweet what happens to them but ofc since they aren’t really the main focus, it’s more a fun bonus to see what happens to them.

Ok I need to wrap this up. One day I’ll write a proper spoiler-full essay about this with a thesis statement and everything but yk. Life.

To conclude I’ll just talk about the ending of this fic. It’s my favourite, absolute favourite thing about it. The author themself quoted a comment they received in the last chapter that I am going to quote here too: “Even at the end there's the clear sense that the character's lives will continue and that this is only the beginning for them.” That is literally the best way to sum up this fic. These character’s will continue growing and bettering and it gives me so much real, genuine hope in myself that I can change, too. So yeah. Read this fic and if it changes your life let me know.

#dabi #todoroki shouto #todoroki family drama #i talk #bnha fic #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki enji #ask #anon #fuelled by audhd #fic so good i had to use capitalization #wrote this like 1-4am and just barely proofread it now #so if it’s absolutely everywhere. thats why #incomprehensible … #ok i realize that i talked abt how important endeavor is here in this fic but hes also like #yes hes sort of the catalyst but also they r their own characters #idk #i want to have my cake and eat it too #endeavor is vitally important but also shouto dabi fuyumu natsuo rei can live w/o him and his pressure

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 289, Replies Part 1

1) “True despair be upon those kids, on Chapter 289: Miss Candid and Miss Shut-away

alright what the fuck is that title

horikoshi? Hori- Don’t ignore me, what the fuck is that title-“- Two girls having a conversation, each not really getting enough about the other to truly understand where they’re coming from, in turn only deepening the misunderstanding and conflict between them.

2) “Meanwhile, let’s see Hadou and Ida rushing towards the epicenter of death, even though Ida very clearly was not invited for the party. Look man, if you get turned into dust I’m blaming it solely on you.”- He’s arguably the best one for swiftly transforming the injured out of the danger Zone, whilst Izuku and the rest work to keep Tomura from widening that Danger zone even more.

3) “Yeah but considering the main one is midoriya and the lesson he always gives is “destroy yourself to save others” I have a feeling this won’t end that well for you.”- Iida unintentionally throwing Bakugo under the bus, though I suppose you could say Bakugo teaches others what to do by demonstrating the opposite response to social niceties.

4) “Shoto is there and he confirmed officially we’re still not free from Bakugo, but let’s see how that development goes until the end of the chapter, we already have a few graves open by the side, it would be terrible to waste them.”- I’m impressed Shoto didn’t touch down to lighten his load a little before grabbing Izuku. You know it’s gotta be harder for him to fly when he only has a single jet thruster to work with.

5) “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST SHIGARAKI

OH GOD WHAT THE FUCK

IT’S BEEN QUITE SOME TIME SINCE YOU DID SOMETHING THAT HORRIFYING GOOD LORD”- Ok, let’s just be honest here. If/When Izuku figures out how to control Black Whip to a similar degree, he;s gonna be pulling the exact same stunt, using tendrils directly controlled by his willpower to puppet his broken body to keep fighting. Their final clash will look like somebody putting on the world’s most intense Puppet show.

6) “Oh you two already got here? alright

Miss Uzumaki and dash-dabbing are here to save the day and hopefully not join the row of graves right out of view”-Honestly, getting some fresh meat in the grinder here gives Izuku and the rest some breathing room before they join in, and they all need that. Tomura doesn’t give a crap about down-time, but the heroes need to be prioritising their health and wellbeing for the sake of the endangered civilians they’ve gotta rescue in the aftermath of all this.

7) “oh you mean that thing that is just there in plainview, approaching at the speed of mach-fuck who will be here in less than two minutes Ida? thank you two, what would we be with that mail office”- Well, not like Izuku’s been able to check his smartphone for the latest news events when Tomura/AFO has been hounding him like Mr X on a bad day.

8) “HO HO HO HADOU IS FUCKING PISSED RIGHT NOW

I HAVE A FEELING SOMEONE IS ABOUT TO MEET A WORLD OF PAIN”- If I recall right, Ryuko was also Hadou’s mentor figure during the internships, so she’s doubly angry at seeing her so messed up at Tomura’s hands. 9) “I HAVE A FEELING THAT’S AFO AGAIN

SEEMS LIKE HE MANAGED TO GET CONTROL FOR A FEW INSTANTS, WHICH MEANS WE’RE ABOUT TO GO FOR ROUND TWO UNTIL SHIGARAKI TAKE THE WHEEL AGAIN”- It’s honestly really hard to tell who’s in the driver’s seat, but in general, whenever “Tomura” starts getting mean and disparaging towards his enemies, that’s the cue that AFO’s in command 10) “Uraraka is an expert in hand-to-hand combat, but Toga is a master of dodging, which means this is gonna take a while, at least until Machia run them over. I’m surprised Uraraka even managed to tap her clothes like that.”- If not for last chapter’s extra segment, I’d have almostthough Toga put in the time to get clothes on so Uraraka couldn’t float her easily, almost like a shield. Instead, I now know it’s because the PR department didn’t want a mostly-naked girl fight and the bad press that’d have brung. 11) “oh my god is toga baring her soul and trying to explain to Uraraka why she acts the way she does? What she thinks, what she feels, but Uraraka here is more concerned with taking her down for the safety of all?Horikoshi, what have I done to be hurt like this?”- It’s honestly not that different from Curious’ own “interview” with her, with one side given their opinion of Toga’s actions and her perception amidst the public, whilst the other furiously brushes off what they’re saying on the surface in favour of fighting them. The difference is, Last time it was Toga who was focusing on the fight, due to her dislike of Curious and her giving a biased viewpoint of her actions with a political intent to spin them to further the MLA’s cause, whereas this time, she’s the one genuinely expressing herself in private to somebody she likes, and that person isn’t getting the hint.

12) “Oh, was it Mina’s cousin, the blue lady that went splat? Yeah I recall that. I wonder how Uraraka will react knowing it was her power that killed her. Not that well I assume.”- Toga bringing up Curious furthers the parallel, because it’s clear she’s thinking back of that conversation as the last time she “opened up” to an outsider besides the league, and unfortunately it’s going about as swimmingly. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #mha 289

[dxringred]

HELLO FELLOW ST/DDIE NOT-QUITE HATER BUT JFC DO THE DOUBLE STANDARDS REALLY NEED TO BE SO OBVIOUS?

i love the fandom, but this issue has been present since. forever. since steve stans were shitting on nancy after the halloween party scene, making fics and long-ass paragraphs bemoaning steve’s puppy-dog eyes when he heard that nancy say that she was pretending to be in love. as if the scene wasn’t about NANCY and her grief??

and then again! when robin came out, the initial “holy shit, we finally have some canon queer rep of quality!! robin’s such a cool character, and this was a beautiful scene!” people immediately latched on to the fact that she didn’t label herself explicitly as a lesbian in order to shove her and steve together. and again, the steve stans raved about what an excellent ally steve was, when the scene was about ROBIN and pushing past her obvious fear to tell steve something like that.

and most recently, with the vickie and robin scenes. i personally don’t ship them, but even that was, apparently, content tailored for the steve stans. the fact that the directors might be leading into an actual romance life for a canonical lesbian character (though nancy has literally been right there. even the actors are in support of the ship)? unimportant because look!! look how proud steve looks in that scene, look how happy he is for robin. wtf.

steve’s a great guy, a fun character and he’s got depth and kindness etc etc. eddie… i mean. he’s also really cool and i get why people like him, i really do. but he barely had a season’s worth of character development, and already he’s a fan favorite. i like the ship, but i hate the fact that once again, the fandom is full-on obsessing over the “cute white boys” and neglecting the wlw pairings

and it’s so much more than a bunch of people upset that their ship isn’t as popular. this is an actual issue, where the lack of wlw content and attention is forever being overshadowed by the mlm pairings.

damn, i didn't even know it was possible to send asks this long-

sadly, i don't know any history of the stranger things fandom since i've never watched the show, let alone engaged in the fandom, but i can attest to the rock/ie one since i've seen several posts mentioning how steve looked like a proud parent or w/e, and then others being all "poor steve" since he's single while robin has vickie and nancy has johnathon. (for now.)

on his own, steve's an okay character to me. his development was good until 4B messed it up with him latching onto nancy again, but even with that, i've never gotten the impression that there's a lot of. depth to him? like it's very much the basic character arc of "popular highschool asshole realizes it is bad to be an asshole and that he actually cares for others". totally fine but hardly groundbreaking lol. and if i see his chest hair one more time-

i haven't watched the show, so i can't attest to eddie outside of gifs, but again. nothing special from what i've seen. his little arc seems to be 'manning up'? instead of fleeing like he did with chrissy (which i thought was a perfectly valid reaction, frankly), he dives into lover's lake, helps save steve and then sacrifices himself which ultimately then lowkey negates the development because he's fucking dead lol.

maybe it's just because he's a far cry from my type of male character, but. yeah, don't get the fan favorite thing. don't get the petition with 75k signatures. don't get the ship (no issue with it yet though) when they barely had any scenes. it's definitely a case of them both being (arguably) attractive white men. cishet girls in particular will eat that shit right up.

the fact that ste/ddie shippers are now going around reporting ronance shippers and calling them names for giving them a taste of their own medicine and/or politely asking them to tag their fucking fics correctly is disgusting imo. it's giving lesbophobia. they seem to think their ship is more important, and therefore nobody else's tags and spaces matter. the way they behave, you'd think the average age of that fandom is 12. (and i wouldn't be surprised if it is, honestly.)

the only canon lgbt+ character is wlw. (i can't speak for will. i don't know if his sexuality has actually been definitely stated yet, and it hasn't in the show as far as i'm aware, so. vickie also isn't confirmed anything as far as i know.) and yet somehow mlm pairings with minimal scenes are heavily overshadowing any wlw content. (first it was billy/steve which. what the fuck, actually. now it's ste/ddie.) i don't know what the huge disparity is rooted in (lesbophobia, misogyny, mlm fetishization, all of the above) but it's fucking annoying and boring. broaden your horizons. get a grip. uggggghhh.

#ask #ronance #are there any other lgbt+ characters other than robyn? #like i said #haven't watched the show #so idk anything about minor/side characters #those are the only three i know of #and will is only (apparently) coded afaik #also no i dont know why i spelled robin that way

[waheelawhisperer]

I’m a little confused going down your blog. Out of the main team Yang’s character arc stands out as the best for you. However, you viscerally disagree with what the writers set out to tell with Yang: “she needs to use her head before her fists”. Arguing she’s a clever technical fighter and most of her failures are from no-win scenarios/matchups. All this to say, how can you both consider Yang’s arc the best while rejecting one of its biggest pillars?

Pretty easily, actually. There are two reasons for that: first, there's a lot more going on with Yang's character arc/development than the abysmal "Learn To Fight Better, Stoopid" mess the writers saddled her with, which was both factually incorrect and a steaming pile of horseshit. Second, the other three main characters have their own issues with their arcs. Third, the pillar in question sucks.

Yang's character arc isn't just changing her approach to combat. She grows from an aimless thrillseeker to, arguably, the person who best understands what it truly means to be a Huntress (look at Volume 7 episode 1 for a great example of this, she's consistently the one trying to keep the group focused on important issues during the conversation with Pietro. Someone else wrote a much longer post about this topic specifically, but I don't care enough to find it right now). She finds and confronts the mother she's been searching for for most of her life and ultimately rejects her philosophy in favor of standing and fighting against a seemingly-insurmountable foe. She has a (bare semblance of an) arc where she, a bona fide badass who is justifiably cocky and confident about her fighting skills and general ability to handle whatever the world throws at her, is so utterly broken by a decisive defeat that she develops PTSD and then overcomes that and learns to live with a disability for the sake of the people she loves. Yang is one of the most complex and interesting characters in the show, even after the writers butchered her arc and Taiyang's characterization in Volume 4.

As for her teammates, yeah, there's some good development in there too, I'm not saying there's not, but Blake's character arc is inextricably intertwined with the White Fang storyline, which blows more dicks than your average pornstar, and she spends most of the Atlas arc doing nothing but losing fights and pining over Yang when she should be front and center of a storyline focusing on the Kingdom most closely connected to Faunus oppression and anti-Faunus discrimination; Weiss gets over her racism in the space of two episodes and it's never mentioned again and also does fuck-all in Atlas, the part of the setting she's most closely connected to and the home of her most important character conflict and her entire fucking motivation to become a Huntress, and Ruby has been so static throughout the series that I was on the brink of not caring where the writing took her even before I started losing interest in watching RWBY as a whole.

I've talked about why Taiyang's advice is horrible and straight-up doesn't match the information the show presents directly on-screen about how Yang fights a million times already. I'm not going over it again.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #taiyang xiao long #analysis

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid request #reid request #reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #professor spencer reid #prof reid #prof spencer reid #prof!reid #professor reid #post prison spencer #post prison reid #post-prison reid #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid self insert #my gif

[blissfulparker]

hi Kat!!! how are you doin??? could you maybe do a “kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, accidentally proving that there was, in fact, something there.” with either Tom or peter

love you and have a great day 💕💕💕

Kiss prompt list

A/n; why did I write this based off of New Years in October?? I don’t even know myself but enjoy♡

The music blares from downstairs, you find yourself finding peace in the bathroom upstairs as you just needed a break from the party below.

New Years was filled with joy and somehow way too much alcohol for your body to handle as you reached midnight yet couldn’t find a kiss but rather water splashing on your face ruining your makeup to cool you down.

Two loud knocks make you jump as you groan. Turning off the water you rest your hands in your face as you shout,

“Someone’s in here!” But that didn’t stop the mystery person from opening the door to revel themselves.

Tom, who had been your best friend ever since you scraped your knee on the playground when you were kids, wore a hat backwards that you swore made him look like the biggest dick ever and a tight black shirt. Arguably one of his best shirts as it brought all the attention to him.

“What are you doing? It’s almost midnight!” He sets down his beer and wraps his arms around you to sit you up.

“I feel really hot.” You whine and he sets you down on the closed toilet seat.

“Do you need to throw up? Water? Do you need something to eat?” As much as people believed he was this fuckboy, he was kind and caring.

“No, no,” you wipe your face. Your mascara drips down your cheeks from the water and Tom can see the whole mess but you only see him. “Go back down, find someone to kiss. That blonde girl in pink was really pretty.” You swallow your words as that made you want to throw up more.

“I’m staying. You don’t feel well. C’mon, I’ll take you to my room. If no ones fucking in it yet.” He grumbled the last part as he dragged you up from the bathroom and to his room. You could already hear people getting ready, trying to find their kiss. This year wasn’t going to be yours and Toms, it never was.

You get set down on the plush bed where Tom opens his closet to find you some clothes to change into. You knew the moment you sat on that bed he would not let you leave until he deemed it safe.

“They’re counting down, go get a kiss!” You tell him. In truth you felt better, you just needed some space and some cool water on you to make you feel better. You would have a killer hangover in the morning but nothing some Advil couldn’t fix.

“I don’t care about a damn kiss (y/n), here, change into this.” He throws you one of his shirts and you just hold it not wanting to put it on yet.

“I do! Go kiss someone for me!” You try and argue but he sits on the bed next to you.

You can hear the countdown. The chants of ten, nine, eight,

“Fine. We can just kiss.” He says and your eyes go wide. “Just to get it over with.

Seven, six, five,

You would’ve thrown up at the idea of kissing tom Holland if you were 12 still. The boy who was so tiny and his clothes hung so loose and he barely was able to kick a football without falling. The boy who later got into acting and you swore not to laugh at his American accent when he first tried it which now gave him the most success. The boy who never left your mind…

“Tom…is that really a good idea?” You feel your hands tighten around his shirt and he looks away.

Four, three, two,

“I mean, we’re just friends right?” His face tinted red but you think it’s from how hot he was.

One.

His lips press against yours and you nearly fall back. Your mind races with the word ‘friend’ as you can’t stop kissing him. He was your friend, your best friend who couldn’t make you feel anything more.

Cheers happen from downstairs. Your lips pull apart and you nearly whimper at the loss of touch. His eyes meet yours, you had never felt your heart race this fast, never had you felt it race this fast around your best friend.

You two are silent for too long. Only staring at each other trying to figure out what just happened when you both jump when someone is trying to get into the room.

“Someone’s in here!” Tom calls out this time and whoever is at the other side doesn’t stop. “I said someone’s—“ his best mate—Harrison—busts through the door with a girl with curly hair on his arm, she’s too mesmerized by the blue eyes to even care what’s happening.

“Oh shit! My bad! Thought this was—no way! You and (y/n) finally fucking? Fuck! Harry owes me!” He had a cheeky smile on his face and Tom throws a pillow at the door and it slams shut again.

“Well, best I leave you to get some rest. I’ll get some water—“ he starts but your lips are back on his. Kissing until your lips burn and you can’t breathe.

A kiss that was simply to be one and done with. A kiss so you could stop hearing the teasing from your friends, a kiss that was meant to only be something to check off your bucket list of the year and to prove there was nothing when there was everything.

You didn’t leave his bed that night, he brought a makeup wipe to your face and made sure you were safe and sound until morning where he still didn’t let you go. He waited nearly twenty five damn years, he wasn’t going to let you do anytime soon.

#kats blurbs #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland fic #imagine tom holland

[tpwkjerii]

oh, zombie!

you’re certain you’ve met the end when you’re cornered by flesh-hungry zombies, but a man with a bat and the bone structure of a god proves you otherwise.

pairing: jungkook x reader

warnings: cursing, shooting guns, weapons, mentions of death, minor angst, fluff, blood, zombies (duh), attempted murder, kinda heated makeout session, namjoon is an accidental cockblock, kissing

genre: zombie apocalypse au, thrill/gore (not too descriptive or graphic), strangers to lovers

word count: 9.8k+

a/n: the zombies in this fic have enhanced smell for corpses and human stress hormones!! and help i have like two other jk drafts rn (& disclaimer: i don’t own the gif above!!)

Fucked.

That was the best word to describe you and your current predicament. Now, with the loud groans of at least four zombies and heavy bangs against the door ringing in your ears, you were really starting to regret entering this grocery store.

You knew you should have trusted your gut when you first approached the store, but the thought of having actual food (not the dry ramen packets you were currently surviving on) and more water (you were on your last bottle) tempted you to push open the glass door and rush into the supermarket without so much as a noise scan. It took only eight seconds for the zombies and their enhanced smell to know that you entered. You were barely able to grab a single bottle of water before you heard an eerily low groan and immediately rushed for shelter in the dairy freezer.

Your twenty seconds of recklessness led you to where you are now, pushed against a cold door while zombies banged heavily against it. You held onto the inner lock as you reached down for your gun, which you were certain only had a few more bullets; regardless, it was your best shot at escaping this store alive. Gathering yourself, you inhaled and exhaled deeply with hope that you could shoot them all fast enough.

Just as you were about to release the lock and face your fate, the groans fell silent and were replaced by the sound of heavy and almost cartoon-like thwacks. Your feet froze as you realized that that was no sound or action a zombie could make — there was another human outside. You had only a few seconds to decide your next move, which would ultimately decide your future and whether you die in the middle of a grocery store dairy storage freezer or not.

Whoever killed the zombies outside could either be a kind-hearted person who didn’t want to see you succumb to a tragic fate or a person who wanted to save you from death by zombies only to kill you for your survival supplies. Considering the fact that they just knocked at least four zombies on their own, you prayed that it wasn’t the latter.

A few silent seconds passed until you eventually moved your hand, and you prayed that this wouldn’t be your second fatal mistake of the day as you slowly unlocked and opened the heavy steel door. Your gun visible in your other hand, you stepped out to see who your potential savior (or murderer) was.

Your eyes landed on the face of an extremely handsome man. Despite the obvious disarray he was in (then again, everyone who manages to survive during a zombie apocalypse is at least some form of messed up), it was clear as day that he was attractive. He had alluring doe-shaped eyes that were deceivingly innocent-looking, long dark hair that fell messily over his forehead, and the facial structure of an absolute god. The cut on his lip, small scratches scattered across his face, and his silver earrings only added to his intimidating impression, and upon seeing the heavy metal bat he held in his right hand, you instinctively tighten your grip on your handgun.

You were so enraptured by his captivating appearance that you nearly forgot the situation you were in.

“Who - who are you?” you finally asked, attempting to keep your voice as level as possible and praying that your face wasn’t red since he definitely noticed you checking him out.

He didn’t look intimidated at all, and a part of you died internally when his lip curled into a smirk. This was not looking good for you. “Are you gonna put that gun down?” he asked, the depth and warmth of his voice throwing you off. He laughed as you only blinked and he continued, “You certainly didn’t have a problem with me when you were checking me out earlier, so why keep the gun up now, babygirl?”

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. You cursed under your breath as you moved your hand down and quickly placed your gun back in your thigh holster, deciding that he was safe and probably wouldn’t kill you. “I wasn’t checking you out,” you muttered, and he laughed at your obvious lie.

“Whatever makes you feel better, babygirl,” he said, a teasing tone in his airy voice.

Your brows knitted together in irritation at the pet name. “Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, looking down at your worn sneakers awkwardly.

He laughed again, and you found yourself oddly enchanted to his tiny laugh. He took a step towards you, causing you to look up at him as he told you, “I won’t call you ‘babygirl’ if you tell me what your name is.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before you answered, “My name’s Y/N, what’s yours?”

He grinned, which somehow turned his entire demeanor upside down. With his wide smile, he was no longer the intimidating guy that took down three zombies on his own with just a bat, but rather a nice guy that just wanted to help out a fellow human from being killed by zombies.

“Jungkook,” he answered simply as he began to walk away from you and through the store aisles.

“Jungkook,” you repeated, familiarizing the way his name rolled off your tongue with a nod. “So, Jungkook, what brought you into this store?” you asked, rushing to walk alongside him and skim through the aisles.

“This your first time outside, Y/N?” he asked, abruptly stopping to turn and look at you. You froze and dropped the bag of chips you were holding at the sudden eye contact. He sighed and moved to pick up the chips and place it back onto the shelves. “I was wandering around the area, and I saw that you walked right into a trap,” he told you.

“A trap?” you asked, your mouth falling open in surprise.

He nodded and motioned for you to help him fill his rucksack with water bottles. “Looters will leave trace scents or pieces of human remains to attract zombies to popular places survivors will drift to. Once any survivors enter and get killed by the zombies, the looters will come back, off the zombies, and take their supplies,” he explained with a grimace.

Your face twisted, and you suddenly felt even luckier that Jungkook saved you. “How do you know? I mean, how did you know that the looters were here?” you asked, still a bit unsettled at the fact that you basically walked straight-first into a death trap.

Jungkook zipped up his backpack, now full of at least 20 water bottles, and headed towards the dried foods. “I spotted one of their vans when I was walking around, so I figured they were in the area. Then I saw you entering the store and bingo — I was right,” he told you nonchalantly as he stuffed various dried fruits and snacks into his pockets.

“Take some of these,” he added, gesturing towards the few remaining dark chocolate bars.

You nodded, briefly admiring his casual attitude as you shoved two handfuls of the chocolate into your jacket pockets. “How did you recognize them? Have you had any… run-ins with them?” you wondered curiously, picking up your pace to match his quicker steps as he made his way down the remaining store aisles.

“They approached me to join them when this whole thing started,” he started, pausing to laugh softly at the shocked expression on your face. He shook his head as he continued, “I said no because what they do is twisted. Luring people to their deaths for some sick form of fun. They say they do it for the supplies but we all know that’s a lie.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully. “Oh, well, I guess that’s an admirable and sane choice.”

He murmured in agreement, and you walked alongside him, unconsciously humming a song that had been stuck in your head for a while. Being with Jungkook, who was both stronger and more knowledgeable than you, provided you with a sense of comfort. Additionally, he wasn’t shooing you off and willingly accepted your company (for the past 10 minutes, at least). Before you even knew it, you two reached the front store doors.

He walked out first, holding the door open behind him. You faltered, a second thought of “does he really want me to go with him?” running through your head.

He raised a brow, opening the door a bit wider. “You coming?”

“Wh- what?” you stuttered in disbelief.

“Do you want to come with me or not?” he asked. “C’mon, babygirl. We don’t have all day. Those looters are bound to come back soon.”

At the mention of those evil people, your legs moved instantly. You rushed out of the door towards Jungkook’s side and eagerly turned to face him. “Where to?”

He laughed, and you swore it was one of the most enchanting tones you’ve ever heard, before saying, “What’s the place you’re staying in like?”

You thought back to your small home and the painful disarray it was in. It was a miracle that you were able to survive so long considering how ill-prepared you were for an apocalypse to happen.

“Er, probably not as good as yours,” you answered sheepishly.

“Fair enough.” He nodded at the anticipated answer and began to walk in the opposite direction that you came from. You continued alongside him, internally screaming at how lucky you were. Not only did Jungkook completely save your life, he let you stay with him! You didn’t understand why, seeing as you were arguably an impediment to his survival, but you were grateful regardless.

The city around you was lifeless. What was once home to millions of citizens and the hustle and bustle of daily routines was reduced to empty stone buildings, the only people left either roaming as the undead or too afraid to come out. Within two weeks, the city and all its people changed entirely.

As you walked alongside Jungkook, you wondered what type of life he led before the apocalypse. Was he a student like you? Did he have a job? Was he a police officer or firefighter? Did he have family?

Several questions imposed themselves in your brain, and it was enough to almost distract you from Jungkook’s words.

“That van over there is a looter van,” he informed you, pointing towards a parked black van that had unrecognizable red symbols sprayed on it. “Each one has different symbols on it, but they’re all in red so they know where each one is and don’t mess up a potential job.”

You nodded and absorbed his words. You definitely passed a van like that when you were walking towards the store. “That’s good to know,” you whispered, your voice strained with mild fear.

He didn’t say anything else in response and continued forward, gently tugging you along with him when you lingered in your spot a second too long as you stared at the van.

Jungkook led you for a few more minutes, each second only increasing your curiosity as to where he was taking you and what he was really like. Silence prevailed until you heard a low groan and the distinguishable sound of a foot dragging along gravel. You stiffened and unconsciously moved to grip Jungkook’s hand.

He stopped in his tracks and gently pushed you towards a building wall. Once both your backs were pressed flat against the stone wall, he adjusted the grip on his bat and you reached for the gun in your thigh holster. The zombie’s groans grew louder as it approached. You knew they couldn’t see and had a very limited sense of hearing, but you wondered if you or Jungkook had anything on you that attracted its hunger for rotting flesh or stress.

You held your breath as the zombie came into view, its decaying body and unsettling groans disturbing you. It walked closer, although not directly towards you. You raised your gun the same time as Jungkook lifted his bat, but you didn’t have to pull the trigger and Jungkook didn’t have to swing as the zombie only walked straight past you two, leaving only its rotting scent behind.

You breathed out in relief and relaxed your shoulders as you placed your handgun back in its holster. “Thank god,” you whispered.

“Let’s go,” was all Jungkook said before he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. It seemed like you weren’t the only one anxious to get out of the open.

Jungkook’s home was much, much better than yours (if you could even call your tiny studio that).

“Holy shit,” you whispered as you admired the fortified mansion. High stone walls and a metal gate surrounded the large two-story house. “You have this place all to yourself?” you asked Jungkook. Now you were really curious what his profession before this was.

He shook his head as he unlocked the gate with a key. “A few friends live with me,” he answered simply before slipping the key back in his jean pocket. “They should all be awake by now.”

You nodded and followed closely behind him as he walked up the short pathway to the front door. As he opened the door, you heard a loud yell come from within.

“Kookie!” he yelled, his voice smooth and deep.

You saw Jungkook’s face turn red as he quickly shut the door with a slightly mortified facial expression.

“Uh -”

The door burst open. “Kookie!” a man shouted before enveloping Jungkook into a tight hug. You stepped to the side, observing the affectionate interaction with a grin. The man who barreled into Jungkook had black, fluffy hair that was held back by a black hairband. He was on the thinner side, but still built, and appeared to be a bit taller and tanner than Jungkook. When he released the hug and turned to face you, your breath hitched.

He was attractive.

“Who’d you bring home?” he asked Jungkook, a boxy smile directed towards you.

“Her name is Y/N, I caught her just before some zombies got her,” Jungkook answered as he nudged you and the man inside.

As you stepped through the front door, you observed the large home’s tasteful interior. A pristine white kitchen was to the right of you, apparently well-stocked based on the two open cabinets that were filled with snacks and ramen. To the left of you was an open living room with one large couch and two smaller ones surrounding a paper-filled coffee table and a large TV mounted onto the wall.

Impressive, you thought.

The fluffy-haired man stepped in front of you, his contagious smile still going strong. “I’m Taehyung. It’s nice to meet you!”

You smiled at him. It’d been a while since you met new people, much less people with such warm and friendly dispositions. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you returned honestly.

Jungkook cleared his throat, announcing suddenly, “I’ll show Y/N around.”

You turned to face him, noticing that he had taken off his bags and leather jacket. His bare arms were now exposed, and you immediately noticed how sculpted he was. A sleeve of various tattoos decorated one of his arms, drawing your attention to the ink on his defined muscles. His other arm was more bare, but still had a few figures on it. Realizing that you were probably staring for too long, you tore your eyes away with a nod before you set down your own bag and followed Jungkook.

He took you past the living room and kitchen through a hallway, showing you where the first floor bathroom, in-home gym, and office were. You gaped at the book-filled office that also housed several weapons. Lined across the wall were several guns, knives, and other weapons you couldn’t even name. After you recovered from what you saw in the office, he led you up the stairs.

“This is Taehyung and Jimin’s room,” he said, pointing to the first door in the hallway. “Jin and Yoongi’s.” He pointed to the door next to the first one. “Namjoon’s.” He then pointed towards the first door on the opposite side of the hall. “And mine.” He pointed to the door next to Namjoon’s.

You nodded, resisting the urge to ask about their family members since you knew it could be a sensitive subject for them. “Are they all home?” you wondered. “Well, except for Taehyung, I guess,” you added as an afterthought.

Jungkook nodded. “Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin are probably in their rooms. Namjoon will be out for the next few days getting some stuff, so you can stay in his room for now.”

Your lips parted in shock. “No, no! That’s his room. It’s fine, I can sleep on the couches if anything!”

“It’s fine, he won’t mind,” Jungkook insisted.

But you shook your head in persistence. “Really, I’m completely fine with the couch. I wouldn’t want to make Namjoon feel uncomfortable or anything.”

He sighed and shrugged, seemingly relenting to your wishes. “Alright, we can head back down then,” he said as he turned back to the stairs.

Before you followed him, your eyes landed on the last door all the way down the hallway. You had no idea what was behind it, yet it still emitted an ominous and mysterious aura that called out to you. “Wait,” you said before you even thought about it. Just as he turned to face you, the realization that he probably didn’t tell you what was in that room for a reason (whatever that was) hit you.

“Er - nevermind!” You laughed awkwardly, hoping he would drop it. But it was too late — he already noticed your lingering gaze on the locked door.

“Don’t go in that room,” he stated bluntly before turning around, not giving you a chance to respond. “There’s nothing in there that’s of importance to you,” he added as he walked down the stairs. You rushed to follow him after him, still intimidated to be in this big house with completely new people, muttering words of agreement.

Everyone in this house was shockingly nice. Jimin was undeniably kind and spent your entire first night at your side, making sure you felt comfortable in this new place. Yoongi, although more reserved, didn’t hesitate to check if you were alright whenever you spaced out or got scared by a sudden noise. Lastly, Jin was incredibly attentive; from asking you if you had any food allergies or if you preferred baths or showers, he did his best to welcome you.

(They were all also really attractive, but that's besides the point).

Before you knew it, a week passed. Seven days of playing board games with Jimin and Taehyung, cooking with Jin, talking about conspiracy theories with Yoongi, and working out (and trying to avoid) with Jungkook.

Why were you trying to avoid him? Well, despite having met Jungkook first, you couldn’t help but start to feel awkward around him. Not because he made you feel uncomfortable or the reverse, but rather due to your undeniable attraction to him. It certainly didn’t help that his personality complemented his beautiful appearance well. On the outside, Jungkook appeared cold and intimidating, but on the inside he was soft and kind. He was exactly like one of the many fictional characters you’d fallen in love with before.

Your first official day at the house, you kept your cool pretty well. Of course, Jungkook and his endearing behavior and large, doe eyes had to ruin it. Then again, it was also on you for not listening to your initial instinct of avoiding the gym machines. What exactly happened?

Well, after three failed attempts of using the machine from hell (you didn’t even know it’s name), Jungkook finally decided that it was just getting sad and moved from his machine to help you.

“You’re supposed to use your arms to bring it back,” he said with a teasing tone as he neared you. You jumped in your seat and looked up at the mirror to see his figure stopping directly behind you. Your breath hitched as he leaned down and… oh fuck, did his arms just brush up against yours?

Face burning red, you looked away with a violent cough. “Er, I knew that.”

He laughed softly at your embarrassed expression, the enchanting sound of his lap wreaking havoc on your already weak heart. You turned towards him and gently pushed his chest with a scoff.

“You don’t have to laugh at me,” you grumbled.

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” he countered with a smug smile.

You particularly liked when he smiled since he reminded you of a bunny whenever he did — especially when he had a large smile and his eyes formed happy, crescent moons with twinkling stars. Jungkook’s grin (and laugh) was as infectious as Taehyung’s and Jin’s, and he was, overall, a perfect person in your eyes. Even as he made fun of you (jokingly, of course), you swore he was sent from the stars above.

Deciding it best to not catch feelings for your savior and person who graciously housed you, you tried to keep your distance from him since then. Whenever he entered the room, you tried your best to subtly leave (bless Seokjin for being exceptionally understanding of your “cramps”) and when he tried talking only to you or directing the conversation to you, you roped someone else into the discussion. It worked for the most part as you talked to the others more and ignored the way Jungkook made your heart race whenever you thought about him, but today you were out of luck.

“Y/N and Jungkook, supplies run today.”

You gaped at Jin from your spot on the couch. “What? Me? Are you sure?” you asked, silently pleading with your eyes.

He rolled his eyes and nodded, bending down to gently pat your head. “Yes, you. Don’t worry, you’ll have Kookie with you.”

“And this,” Yoongi added as he dropped a gun much larger than your small handgun in your lap.

You looked up at him in shock. “I don’t know how to use this!”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you’ll need to use it.”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re gonna have to pull your weight if you wanna stay with us,” Taehyung told you, winking at you when Jungkook entered the living room with his gear. Your eyes widened at him, but you couldn’t say anything as Jungkook approached you.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You sighed and stood up begrudgingly. With an excessively-large gun in hand and empty backpack strapped to you, you exited the house with Jungkook at your side. Together, you silently walked down the same path he took you up almost a week ago.

You embraced the peacefulness of this secluded area. Jungkook’s home was quite secluded, and the surrounding trees were home to blissful breezes and a variety of chirping animals. Despite the downfall of humanity, it seemed that wildlife was flourishing, you noted.

“So I guess I’ll ask now,” Jungkook started, capturing your attention. You turned and looked up at him, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “Were you staying with anyone before? I assume not since you’re with us now…”

You shook your head. Your voice lowered as you answered, “I was all by myself.” He frowned while you continued. “My parents were on a trip abroad with my best friend Hobi when it happened.” Your eyes teared up as you mentioned your family and Hobi, who was basically your older brother.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled. “The last call I got from my parents before all the cell towers went down, Hobi was doing alright with them. I’m thankful that they have him.”

“I’m sure that Hobi is doing a good job taking care of himself and your parents,” he responded soothingly.

You nodded, blinking your tears away as you diverted your gaze towards your moving feet. “So what about you?” you asked after a few silent moments. “Do you have any family?”

He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his backpack. “My parents didn’t make it,” he answered bluntly.

Your head whipped towards him. “I’m so sorry,” you said rushedly. “I don’t know why I even asked you, I overste-”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, gently turning your head to face the road path ahead of you two. “I was the one who asked first, anyways.”

You looked down again in shame. “Sorry again,” you murmured.  

Jungkook smiled down at you before a small laugh escaped his lips. Your heart picked up it’s pace when he laced his hand with yours and pulled you forward. “Come on, the supplies won’t get themselves.”

You felt an odd sense of deja vu as you ran out of the grocery store, Jungkook following behind you and a horde of hungry zombies behind the both of you.

But let’s back up a few moments to ten minutes prior to this predicament.

You and Jungkook finally reached the grocery store that Jin had been scoping out via hidden camera for the past week. Your eyes were delighted by the sight of shelves lined with a variety of foods and freezers that still had cold air circulating behind the glass doors.

“This is one of the few places that run on solar power, so the electricity still functions in here,” Jungkook explained when he noticed your confusion at how he was able to turn off the lights and the gust of cold air that greeted him as he opened one of the freezer doors to grab an ice cream bar.

“I’m surprised no one’s hit this place up yet,” you said as you took out the list of supplies that Jin gave you before you left.

“Jin’s been watching this place for a while. He thinks no one’s come here because it’s kinda far away.”

You nodded in agreement, thinking back to the long walk you and Jungkook took to get here. You supposed not many people wanted to risk being out in the open for so long and didn’t find the commute worth it.

“Is Jin watching us right now?” you asked Jungkook curiously.

During your short few days at their house, you quickly learned each person’s role. Yoongi, who used to be an engineer, builds all the cameras and weapons. Jin, a former director and computer whiz, monitors the cameras that he and Taehyung set up around the city. Taehyung, a film and dance student, helps Jin set up the cameras in obscure places and trains with Jungkook and Jimin. Jimin, a skilled dancer, often accompanies Jungkook and Taehyung during training and supplies runs. Unfortunately, Jimin sprained his ankle recently and Taehyung injured his arm during training, leaving the supplies-run to Jungkook.

The only person you had yet to meet was Namjoon. According to the others, Namjoon was a former pre-med student and scientist who was on a trip to find something. Of course, they didn’t tell you what that something was. And while you were curious, you also didn’t want to overstep your boundaries and risk being kicked out.

“Probably, he usually watches camped out places to monitor and che-”

You and Jungkook both turned your head at the recognizable low rumble of a car. He was quick to grab your hand and pull you down onto the ground, out of view from the front glass windows. You held your breath at the sound of a car door opening and then the ringing bell as the front door was pulled open a few seconds later.

Jungkook reached towards his large gun, but he halted when he recognized the distinguishable stench that the random person carried in. Your eyes widened when Jungkook began panicking, his fingers fumbling for his walkie talkie.

You heard a heavy thud and the sound of the ringing bell again as the mysterious person exited the store. You waited until the rumbling of the car grew distant before you looked up and cursed loudly.

“Fuck! He dumped a dead body here!” you cried, stomach churning at the sight of the pale corpse.

Jungkook groaned from beside you and rushed towards the front of the store, poking his head out of the door and looking both ways. “Fucking looters!” he cursed as he moved his head back and hit the window.

Steering clear of the dead body, you walked towards Jungkook and craned your head to see what he was looking at. The sight of several zombies, more stumbling out of random buildings and streets to join the crowd, heading straight for the store. “Shit! What are we gonna do! They’re already down the block!”

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Fuck, ok, did you get everything?”

You quickly scanned through the paper list and peered into your open backpack. “Most, but I forgot to get some things,” you answered quickly as you mentally checked off each item you saw.

“Which ones?” Jungkook asked, already zipping up his backpack.

A blush spread across your chest and neck, and you wished that you didn’t have to answer. But judging by Jungkook’s stressed face as the zombies’ groans grew louder, you knew you were in no position to stall. “Er. Feminine hygiene stuff,” you blurted.

Jungkook paled before blushing immediately after. His body movements stuttered momentarily before he nodded and headed towards the back of the store. “Shit, ok. Start running!”

You stared at him in bewilderment. “What? I’m not leaving you behind!”

“Just go!” he shouted.

You felt the alarm in your body grow as your head darted between Jungkook’s frantically moving body and the group of zombies just down the street. Knowing that even Jungkook didn’t stand a chance against all those zombies, you ended up on a decision that you really hoped would end up working out.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you looked down at your large gun and adjusted your grip. In one swift move, you kicked open the door and began shooting the zombies, which were now coming from both directions across the street. Your aim wasn’t the best, but it was good enough to pierce bullets through a good amount of them straight in the neck or chest.

“Jungkook! Hurry up!” you cried as you held down the trigger, praying that Yoongi packed enough bullets in the gun.

Small piles of rotting bodies began forming as deceased zombies collapsed to the ground and the other ones climbed over them to get to you. But the few zombies you managed to kill were easily outweighed by all the live ones still clamoring towards you. A cry of frustration left you as you realized that the noise from the gun and the obscene amount of stress radiating from you and Jungkook were just attracting more zombies in the area.

Jungkook ran up towards you, several boxes of various tampons and pads in hand. “I didn’t know which one you wanted! Let’s go!”

In a normal situation, you would have thanked him for his thoughtfulness, but this wasn’t a normal situation by any means.

You and Jungkook ran out of the store towards the house, both turning back occasionally to shoot any zombie that was getting too close. Your breaths grew uneven from exhaustion, but the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping within you kept you and your weak legs going.

“Don’t get too tired! I’ll shoot, just keep running!” Jungkook instructed you when he noticed you clutching your side in pain.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine!” you responded. But you spoke too soon as you tripped over a rock not even a minute later. “Shit!” you cursed as you landed on your hands and knees before immediately standing back up and catching up to Jungkook, who had stopped a few feet ahead of you when he noticed that you fell.

He didn’t say anything as he gently turned your hands over and examined them. Cuts, with blood flowing freely from them and tiny rocks stuck in between the open skin, covered the palm of your hand and your fingers. Jungkook’s eyebrows creased in concern as he moved his eyes down your body to your knees, which now had deep, bleeding gashes in them from the rocks that cut through your jeans and broke your skin.

“Jungkook, it’s fine. We have to go.” You moved your hands to your side and pulled him to continue running, cringing at how your blood stained the bottom of his black denim jacket and his hands. He cursed, obviously wanting to say something, but continued alongside you.

Thanks to the unexpected delay, the zombies had gained on you by a good few meters. You winced as you turned around and pressed the trigger of your gun, the spray of bullets taking a few of them down. But your tiny sense of relief didn’t last long as you soon heard an empty click and noticed that nothing was leaving the end of your gun — you were out of bullets.

You cursed and turned forwards again. “How many rounds do you have left?” you asked Jungkook, panting heavily as you continued running next to him.

“Not that many,” he answered, concern evident on his face.

You looked back at the relenting zombies, hot on your tail, and cursed. How were you going to get yourselves out of this one?

The answer to your question was presented to you in the form of a poorly-driven SUV that was heading down the road and straight towards you and Jungkook.

“Thank god!” Jungkook cried as he pulled you to the side and out of the vehicle’s path.

“Thank god?” you repeated in confusion.

The black SUV halted to a stop in front of you and Jungkook, the doors opening automatically.

“Get in!” you heard a new voice shout.

You and Jungkook didn’t waste a second to climb into the car, which quickly sped away once Jungkook slammed the door shut behind him. Neither of you had the chance to breathe as the zombies, which seemed to have grown even faster, jumped for the back of the car.

“How did they get even faster?” Jungkook cried as he pulled your shaking body towards him.

“The fast ones might be mutations, I found more reports on them the other day,” the silver-haired man in the front with glasses answered. You assumed that this was Namjoon, considering his answer and that Jungkook didn’t mention anyone else.

“Mutations?” you cried, jumping when a hand smacked your backseat window. “These fuckers are mutating?”

Namjoon didn’t get a chance to answer as he harshly turned the steering wheel, sending the car swerving and you and Jungkook barrelling to the other side of the car.

“Namjoon you’re so shit at driving!” Jungkook exclaimed as he rubbed the side of his head that clashed with the glass window.

Namjoon scoffed. “Don’t talk to your hyung like that when I just saved your life! And who told you not to put on seat belts?!”

“Yeah, let me just put on a seatbelt while there’s zombies cha-”

You gasped suddenly and pulled yourself up towards the front. Head directly next to Namjoon’s, you reached your bloody hands up towards the steering wheel. “There’s a bunny!” you shouted as you swerved the car out of the way, sending Jungkook to the other side of the car and wincing as your waist collided with the firm side of the passenger seat.

“Y/N, what the fuck!” you heard Jungkook moan.

“We were gonna kill the bunny!” you protested in your defense as you rubbed your side and sat back down next to Jungkook.

“We have other things to worry about!” he yelled.

“God! I’m sorry, you’re right,” you groaned as you leaned back down into the back seat.

“They’re slowing down!” Namjoon suddenly announced, his eyes focused on his windshield mirror. “Look, they’re retreating!”

You and Jungkook both turned around towards the back window. Just as Namjoon said, the zombies stopped chasing you, instead shuffling in place or back the other direction. With the threat of zombies gone, you let out a breath of relief and closed your eyes.

You kept your eyes shut as Jungkook grabbed your hands and gently ran his fingers across the open wounds, his touch sending electricity through your body. Despite the rush from his soft touch, exhaustion still tugged at you and weighed down your eyelids.

With the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand wrapped around yours, you drifted into unconsciousness.

Your nap was unfortunately short lived. It took only a few moments to arrive back home, and upon exiting the car, the three of you were immediately greeted by everyone else in the home.

“Y/N!!” Jimin greeted as he walked slowly over to you. Jin closely followed the blond to make sure that he didn’t hurt his ankle.

“Jimin!” you said with an equal amount of excitement, throwing your hands up into a welcoming gesture.

Jimin and Jin gasped as you revealed your bloodied and cut up hands.

“You’re hurt!” Jin sputtered as he rushed towards you. “Your knees too!”

“It’s fine, it only stings a little,” you admitted sheepishly. It wasn’t a complete lie — you didn’t exactly have the time to think about your injuries while running for your life.

Jin shook his head. “Come inside, I’ll treat the cuts a-”

“It’s fine, I can do it,” Jungkook said, suddenly appearing at your side.

The older man raised his eyebrows. “You sure, Kookie? Don’t you want to rest?”

Jungkook shook his head and silently pulled you into the house, leaving you to shrug in confusion at the guys behind you. You followed Jungkook through the first floor, up the stairs, and into his room.

His bedroom was similar to what you expected. The walls were painted a dark grey color and there wasn’t much in the room other than the basic furniture and a few pictures and art frames. You sat down on the plain black sheets as Jungkook walked to his dresser and pulled out a first aid kit.

“Why didn’t you just let Jin treat my cuts?” you asked Jungkook quietly, noticing faint signs of exhaustion in his slow movements.

He hesitated to respond. His hands stilled on the top of the red kit as he slowly responded, “I thought this was the only way I’d be able to speak with you… alone.”

“Why?” you asked, praying that you weren’t blushing as assumptions instantly formed in your mind.

He cleared his throat and opened the kit, instantly reaching for several bandaids, disinfectant pads, and antibacterial wound ointment. “Well,” he started as he gently grabbed your hands and turned them so your palms were facing up. He opened the pack of disinfectant pads and swiped them across your hands and knees. “I wanted to ask you why you’ve been avoiding me the past few days.”

Your heart dropped. You didn’t realize that Jungkook noticed how you tried your best to steer clear of him; but it wasn’t like you could really tell him that it was because you were starting to have feelings for him,

“Was it something I said? I did?” he asked as he spread the cold ointment on the open wounds.

“No,” you answered quickly — a little too quickly judging by the way his head darted up to meet your eyes. You blushed under his stare and continued, “You didn’t do anything to offend me, Jungkook.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost pleading.

You groaned inwardly and wished you could cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them firmly in his as he bandaged them. A few seconds of dragged-on silence passed before you looked down at your lap and responded vaguely. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

His hands stopped and his brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would things be awkward between us?”

Blood rushed to your face as you looked up to make painful eye contact with him. “Do you really want to know?” you whined, already anticipating Jungkook’s answer since you’d become quite familiar with his stubbornness over the past few days.

“Yes,” he started. “Please tell me,” he said, feigning an expression of a wounded puppy.

You cursed under your breath and brought your freshly bandaged hands (you ignored that one of the bandages was only half on, courtesy of Jungkook’s prior confusion) up to your face.

“Do you promise not to make fun of me? Or kick me out?”

He laughed, although the soft sound didn’t match the nervousness in his expression. “Yes, I promise.”

His words prompted you to breathe in deeply, mentally preparing yourself for your confession. You can do this, you said to yourself. If you could shoot and run from at least thirty zombies, then you could definitely tell Jungkook you had feelings for him. Right?

It wasn’t like you could keep on avoiding him forever, anyways. With the rate that the apocalypse was going and based off the past few days, it looked like you were going to be at this house a while. You just hoped that your reveal wouldn’t make your stay awkward for either him or you.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Y/N?”

You hummed, still stuck in your thoughts before finally responding. “I… I may or may not be incredibly attracted to you and have feelings for you,” you admitted reluctantly. Jungkook’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before you continued in a panic. “You already promised you wouldn’t make fun of me or kick me out! No take backs!”

He laughed, and you cringed as you were sure it was a laugh of rejection and that the dulcet notes would be a new cause of your nightmares. But the words he said after proved the opposite.

“That’s a relief.” You looked up, a bewildered look on your face. “I like you too,” he mumbled bashfully, his long hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at his lap.

Your body froze. “D-Did I hear that right? Have I not gone crazy?”

He looked back up at you with a grin. “Crazy for me,” he joked with a wink.

Unimpressed, your face dropped. “I take it all back, I’ll go pack my-”

Jungkook shook his head with a chuckle. “Kidding, kidding,” he said, enveloping his slender hands around yours. “But I was completely serious about liking you back.”

“Really?” you asked, still in slight disbelief that Jungkook, who could literally have his portrait and biography in a hall of all Earthly legends, had feelings for you.

“Yes, really.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shoot a doubtful reply, but Jungkook cut you off with the lift of his hand. He rested his hand back down around yours before continuing, “I know you’re probably going to say something self-deprecating or a joke or ask me if i’m joking again, so you might as well let me speak first.”

He grinned at the way your face heated, priding himself on how well he knew you already.

“The way you wish each of us goodnight every night, the way you wake up early to help Jin prepare breakfast, the way you cuss whenever you’re nervous, the way you always try to keep up with whatever stuff we’re doing - even when it’s stupid - and keep a smile on your face; everything about you made me fall for you. Even before the apocalypse, I never felt this way for anyone else.” He took a deep breath, gently squeezing your hands. “The night I first brought you here, it felt like seeing you enter that store and meeting you was fate. You make questionable decisions, we both saw that today, but I’m glad that one of them brought us together because I honestly don’t think I can ever meet anyone else like you.”

A wide smile spread across your face and tears pricked your eyes. Never in your many years of life had anyone told you such genuine, heartfelt words. And no one noticed (or appreciated) those small things about you - your habits that were always brushed over - like Jungkook did.

You agreed with his claim of you making questionable (stupid) decisions, but in this moment you were thankful for your sometimes-dangerous spontaneity and rash decision making. Because if it weren’t for that sudden moment of desperation where you ran into the grocery store, you never would have met Jungkook. Your heart wouldn’t be racing like it was right now and your hands wouldn’t be warm from the feeling of his wrapped around them.

“What do you say?” he asked weakly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“What is there to say?” you countered before you released your hands from his and interlocked your fingers around his lower body. The position was a bit awkward, but you didn’t mind. Less than a few seconds later, your lips were pressed against his.

Jungkook moved his hands from the small of your back to your neck up to your hair. He pulled you in closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You gasped and tightened your grip around him as he effortlessly lifted you up so you were sitting on his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and gently bit it, drawing a moan from you.

You shifted in his lap, pulling a deep groan from him as he pulled away from your lips to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt him suck on your collarbone and upper chest to leave marks for him to see the next day. Just as Jungkook slipped his cool hands under your shirt, a startling voice rang from the other side of the door.

“Jungkook!”

The long-haired boy beneath you groaned in annoyance but continued to kiss you. “Just ignore him, he’ll go away,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips as he dragged his hands against the skin of your stomach.

You nodded, embracing the fiery feeling of his kisses and his hands against your bare skin.

“Jungkook!” the voice cried again, causing Jungkook to curse and groan again. “It’s urgent!”

“This better be good,” Jungkook grumbled as he reluctantly pulled away from you.

You frowned at the loss of his touch, but you didn’t have much time to mourn it as he instantly straightened his back once Namjoon said, “It’s about Project B.”

Your brows raised at Jungkook’s sudden reaction to whatever this “Project B” was. He turned to you with an apologetic look before gently setting you onto the bed and moving towards the door.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly as he straightened his shirt. “I’ll talk to you tonight, I promise.” With that, he was out the door, leaving you in his room with only your thoughts (and hands and knees that had yet to be fully bandaged).

It had been nearly 8 hours since Jungkook had promised that he would speak to you at night. By now, the moon was high in the sky, it’s radiant glow doing nothing to calm your nerves. You knew that whatever Jungkook and Namjoon had to discuss was urgent, but how could he just leave you like that? You were barely able to process the best kiss of your life by the time you realized that you were still sitting stupidly on his bed after he left the room.

You sighed and moved from the window seat in the living room to the kitchen. Joining Jin at the counter, you plopped your head against the stone material with a groan.

“Jungkook and Joon are still in their little lab?” he guessed, nonchalantly flipping his book to the next page.

You nodded pitifully, now knowing that the mysterious room was a lab of some sorts.

“Here,” Jin said before standing suddenly, prompting you to look up at him. He grabbed a bowl of washed fruits from beside the sink and gestured for you to take it. “Bring it up to them.”

“But Jungkook said I ca-”

“I don’t care what he said. Tell him that they shouldn’t have skipped dinner,” Jin instructed firmly.

You nodded, a bit intimidated by Jin’s sudden sternness, and quickly took the bowl with you up the stairs. You slowly approached the door at the end of the hall, the ceramic bowl filled with strawberries and peeled clementines wobbling in your shaky hands. As you took each step, you imagined Jungkook bursting through the door and expressing his disappointment in you for even thinking about entering the room.

Luckily, that didn’t come and you reached the door in less than a minute.

Clearing your throat, you knocked against the door with your elbow. “Jungkook?” you called.

No response.

“Jungkook? Namjoon?” you called again, only to be met with what sounded like a low groan.

Your breath hitched in your throat. That noise didn’t sound pleasant at all.

You placed a weary hand on the door knob but quickly pulled it away as if it was burning hot. Debating thoughts battled in your hand: Jungkook clearly told you not to go in the room but what if Jungkook or Namjoon was in trouble? Wouldn’t leaving despite knowing that one of them could be hurt make you a terrible person (or girlfriend—you didn’t really know what you and Jungkook were yet)?

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the silver doorknob and twisted it open. You stepped into the dimly lit room slowly, gasping at the sight before you.

“Lab” was definitely the right word to describe the room that almost mirrored your high school chemistry class. Seven tables sat in the room, four of which were filled with stacks of papers and folders while the other three had various lab equipment tools atop the black tabletops. It didn’t just end at the tables either.

“What is all this?” you mumbled to yourself as you examined the crowded walls. There was barely an inch of blank wall left as papers, newspaper clippings, photos (some rather disturbing), and notes decorated the wall like a second wallpaper.

You slowly walked through the room, examining the items pinned to the walls. Most of it was related to the zombie apocalypse, with newspapers (from when those were still around) detailing the first outbreaks and theories of the cause and papers filled with concepts you barely remembered from chemistry, physiology, and biology. Accompanying the scientific notes and articles were several pictures, some of zombies and others of medical abnormalities that you couldn’t quite explain.

One picture caught your eye, and you barely managed to place the fruit bowl down on a table with just enough space for it before you rushed over to the photo. The aged photo had three people, presumably a family, in it. A mother and father stood proudly behind their son, their hands on his shoulders as he beamed at the camera with his hands on his lap. The boy looked familiar. His round eyes and bunny-like smile eerily reminded you of -

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected voice sent a shiver down your body, and you jumped as you turned around to face him.

Jungkook.

You mentally hit yourself — you were so distracted by the items of the room that you failed to notice Jungkook waking up at his spot with Namjoon, slouched over and faces pressed onto one of the paper-filled tables.

“Um,” you started, unable to find the right words as you stared at his unreadable facial expression. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed, sad, scared, or possibly even all four.

He let out a frustrated groan and ran his tattooed hand through his long hair. “Just tell me what you saw,” he instructed firmly.

“N-not much!” you stuttered, your eyes wide. “I — Jin fruit! Yes! I just came here to bring you Jin — I mean fruit! I came to bring you fruit! Like Jin told me to!” Heat spread across your face as you attempted to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed between you and the ceramic fruit bowl you pointed to, and he would’ve laughed at your clear disarray if he didn’t feel so anxious.

“You were looking at the walls, you must have seen something,” he deduced.

Your body stuttered as you gestured towards the photo you were looking at. “Nope! Just some things about zombies and… and this picture of you — fun stuff!”

He sighed and you cringed as he placed his hands on your shoulders. But he didn’t scold you or tell you how disappointed he was like you expected; instead, he let his head fall and mumbled something that you weren’t sure if it was meant towards you or himself.

“I guess it’s time I told you the truth.”

Your brows furrowed at his words. The truth? Judging by the contents of the room, they were studying the zombies; and it wasn’t all that surprising considering that Namjoon was technically a scientist and almost-doctor. Why was Jungkook so afraid to tell you?

He lifted his head up, and your heart clenched at the look of pure vulnerability on his face. “Will you promise me that you won’t judge me or run away?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Of course.”

“My parents were scientists who worked for the national lab. I didn’t really know what happened at their work or what projects they were doing because I was in university doing my own stuff,” he paused and briefly closed his eyes to take in a deep breath, “but one day I went home and they told me about an idea they had that was so great.

Super humans, they said. Humans with enhanced senses that would make them superior to regular humans and form the perfect army. I told them it was a shitty idea and that this was stuff they shouldn’t mess with, but they got upset and kicked me out.” He laughed bitterly. “This wasn’t the first time my parents and I ever disagreed on anything, and I thought they were smart enough to not go through with it so I just left. But I guess I was wrong because one day something at the lab went wrong.”

Jungkook hesitated for a second upon seeing the disturbed expression on your face — you knew exactly where this was heading.

He willed himself to continue. “A few months later I got a call from the hospital. They told me that my parents were severely injured while at work, and when I went to see them, they told me the truth of what happened: how they went through with the project but realized too late that it was a mistake, how they were trapped by the government, and how they created monsters.

My parents died from their injuries two days later, and a week after that there was a covered-up breakout at the lab they worked in. Only one day after the breakout, there was the first outbreak in the city only a few miles away. And now we’re here, trying to find a cure for the mess my parents started.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said, a mournful expression on your face. You couldn’t imagine the guilt and sorrow that Jungkook must feel.

He scoffed. “Sorry? Why are you apologizing? This entire thing is my fault,” he muttered.

Your face fell and you moved to grasp his hands. “Jungkook, I don’t see how any of this is your fault,” you spoke honestly, your voice soft.

His eyes widened and he pulled his hands away from you. “Y/N, my parents are the reason this apocalypse happened! And - and they told me about their idea and I didn’t do anything to stop it!”

“You did what you could,” you stressed. “You told them it was a bad idea and they made their own adult decision to go through with it.” You took a step closer to him and looked at him in the eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for your parents’ actions.”

He shook his head and looked away. “I should’ve fought harder,” he countered stubbornly. “I’m a terrible person.”

“Jeon Jungkook, look at me.” You used your finger to turn his head so his gaze was directed towards you again. “You are not a terrible person. If you were, you wouldn’t have saved me that day at the grocery store or risked your life to get me pads or spending your days working to find a cure that isn’t even your responsibility.” You took another step towards him and slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You’re a good person, Jungkook. I’m saying this from the bottom of my heart,” you murmured with your head against his chest.

He was silent for a few moments until his body relaxed into your hold. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he gripped your waist and upper back and rested his head atop of yours. “Do you still feel… the same for me?” he questioned cautiously.

“No,” you answered quickly, causing him to quickly pull away from you in offense. You giggled at his reaction before continuing, “I like you even more now. You were honest with me and now I feel closer to you.”

His face relaxed as he let out a relieved sigh before bringing you back into his arms again. And for a few moments, the two of you simply basked in each others’ embrace.

Jungkook was the first to break the silence. “We’re not very close to finding the solution, you know,” he mentioned with a disappointed tone.

You shrugged. “It’s ok. This isn’t something you can really rush, but I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He pulled his head back to look down at you, a gentle expression painted on his face. “Promise?”

You smiled at him. “I promise,” you whispered before you moved to close the distance between your lips and kiss him once again.

The future was unsure for you and Jungkook and tomorrow or the next week wasn’t guaranteed. But you were sure that if there was anyone you wanted to survive and overcome a zombie apocalypse with, it was Jungkook (and his unconventional group of friends that he calls his family).

a/n: ngl i would feel so safe in a zombie apocalypse w bts akjnkas. also might write a drabble about hobi in this plot hehe. i hope you enjoyed and pls leave comments as they’re rlly encouraging and will  help me improve in the future :’))

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #hobi #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #bts zombie au #bts fanfiction

[todayesterday]

so, get back hot take time (or: a disorganized collection of the things that are floating around in my head that i need to get out somewhere)

paul was so desperate and so clueless and so sad. he didn't know what to do, he was trying to be the director and failing because he didn't know what direction to even go. i think this shows that he didn't have it together at all, at all, but still he was trying very hard to pretend like he did

i think he was also very self-aware - he knew he sounded like an asshole and was being mean to george but i think that, again, he didn't know what to do to change that, or how to approach george now that george already was mad at him? as in, i think he was scared of trying to do it and it making it worse. he wasn't ready to give up things being the way he wanted, or like, to compromise, but he also knew that he needed to and i think he just didn't know how to? how to properly express himself? because he is paul mccartney and he never deals with any emotion he has and god forbid him apologise properly. but honestly i don't think all of it was just him being petty, i think he sincerely didn't know how to. he was just very lost, in every sense, very very lost

in that sense i do feel for him u know. i got really angry at him in episode 1 but i feel for him. he wasn't trying to be mean, he was just utterly fucking lost and trying to lead the way because nobody else seemed to do it and he knew damn well that the beatles needed to be led. again, he just didn't know how to and ended up breaking everybody and himself in the process. i think he just didn't understand that he didn't need to be strong when he clearly wasn't, but he also felt desperate because he thought that if he showed how lost and weak he was, how sad, then everything would fall apart and that would just break him even more

i think george was the only one who was arguably signed off mentally from the sessions and yet he was still trying to impress the others, trying to be a part of it, but conflicted because he didn't quite know where he fit with everything. he was just really fed up i think. out of all of them, i think he was the most desperate to just move on. but i do think that maybe if they had agreed - and if it was a realistic thing in general - to have solo albums and still be the beatles, he would've been happy with that. but i don't think that would have worked, ever

i don't think john didn't wanna be there. i think, particularly after george came back, he was having a good time and he really cared about the whole thing. he did love them. i think all the mess got just too much for him after a while, but, you know. he wanted to be there - granted with yoko by his side - just as much as everybody. or else he wouldn't even have come up, i don't think

also he was clearly in pain too for becoming distant with paul. i don't think he wanted that. i think he sincerely just wanted yoko to be a part of the pals (and perhaps even his relationship with paul) and wanted to keep them and yoko but that was impractical because that's not what the others wanted and it would never work. but i do think he sincerely wanted it to. and he didn't want to drift away from paul too and was in pain because of it, i think that's also something that became very clear to me

the part where he sings ask me why and i wanna hold your hand to paul he was clearly wanting to talk to him which oh god why

john and paul were very desperate to be near each other, and paul was hurting very badly to see him so distant from him. he was just a mess. i didn't know it would be so visible

it's funny because i always thought they were fighting around this time. somehow seeing that they weren't, they were just close and distant at the same time, two people in two boats that are drifting away in the river who are trying to hold on to each other but they keep drifting apart, it somehow is worse

god ringo went through a lot he really does love those three very much god bless him

george martin is a dilf and if he had produced the role thing from start, it would have been 10 times less chaotic and disorganized, just because the beatles trusted him and he was already part of their bubble

overall i think it just goes to show how big of an impact brian's departure had on him. they are all lost and don't know how to behave or how to make decisions and they needed guidance desperately because all they know how to do is play music. paul knew this and tried to be the guide but it didn't work because he was one of them and, therefore, also lost

yoko was really not nearly as annoying as i thought she'd be on these sessions? she just sits there. of course the shadows that she casts is one that isn't easy to ignore because she's, albleit silently, stepping into territory that isn't her own, but that's more on john needing her in their close circle than her forcing something. she really just sits there

of course just that drives paul insane because that means he can't be that close to john but

also, yeah, brian dying really is what broke them

when john was talking about klein he looked like he was like Oh god i found The Dad figure

i think the beatles' later years was just desperately trying to find something or someone to fill brian's shoes y'know. be the one Who Tells them what to do. and it never worked because they could never let anybody else in, they didn't know how to do that, nobody was brian

in the end i think they loved each other a lot

even george

everything will hit differenly from now on

#cw: me giving opinions #don't take all of this like serious analysis or something tho it's just. random thoughts #this Really is just me recording my thoughts on this for my own reference #and typing is quicker than handwriting on my journal #maybe i'll add more later if they come but #get back #the beatles