#tentatively... setting my thoughts out there... for hundreds of people to see and read

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Restless, Respite

my take on the final scene of the Hold On ending | Head Engineer Mark x The Captain (can be read as platonic) | Words: 1,232 | read on AO3

basically I was thinking far too much about how we are presumably the last to wake up that final time (besides the colonists) and how it seems like the crew has been up for a while and how engineer Mark might be feeling about that (not good)

The Head Engineer tapped his fingertips anxiously on the rim of his coffee mug.

The Captain hadn't woken up yet.

It had been a good half hour of the Invincible II’s various personnel filling the bridge and every other area of the ship. The crew leads conferred with each other and their respective teams to ensure everything was fully functional and ready to move on to the next phase of the mission. The entire crew was bustling, eager to set foot on their new home, the promise of a new life awaiting them.

Still, the Captain did not stir.

Despite assurance from the computer AI that all systems were nominal, Mark had checked every major system personally, and with a little more caution than usual. If anyone noticed the slight lack in his typical blasé confidence, they didn’t mention it.

They'd had time to run diagnostics, prepare equipment and shuttles to take down to the surface, and all have their “morning” coffee. All except The Captain and Mark.

With a quiet sigh, he pressed a few icons on his tablet, issuing a command to the system to reheat their drink for the fifth time. They'd wake up any minute now, for sure.

Celci let him know that all one hundred thousand colonists were doing well, and seemed a little surprised when his response didn't hold quite the same bite as most of their interactions. (She also insisted that there was nothing wrong with the Captain’s pod, and people wake up at different speeds.) Burt assured him that the reactor was stable and had fared well with the journey, followed by Gunther enthusiastically reporting that the advance team was ready to head down to the planet's surface to scout ahead.

For once, there was no emergency. It was almost too good to be true. There was really no need to wake the Captain prematurely. If they needed a few more minutes after all they'd been through, that was fine.

And yet, Mark couldn't help the growing pit of dread in his stomach.

The details were a little fuzzy, but with every passing minute his memories of the wormhole and the ensuing chaos became clearer, more solid — the freshest of which being a pained exchange with his Captain, his dearest friend, in the warp core room, as the weight of the multiverse fell heavy on his shoulders with realisation and the subsequent guilt and remorse, the walls of reality literally beginning to crumble around them.

Remembering it all was like waking from a dream in reverse; images of each universe and lifetime stung in the tight grip of his psyche instead of slipping from recollection. His mind began to race, panicking slightly as he remembered times his Captain hadn't woken up at all.

Mark took a small sip of coffee. He felt a headache coming on.

As if on cue, he felt a gentle bump against his leg. He cast his gaze towards it and was happy to see Chica softly nudging him, panting cheerfully with her big eyes aglow.

‘Hey, bub.’

He smiled and bent to pet her soft fur with his free hand, grateful for a comforting distraction from his wandering thoughts.

‘Yeah, any moment now,’ he muttered under his breath as he went to retrieve the Captain’s coffee mug while Chica trotted away.

‘Initialising Wakey-Wakey Protocol.’

Mark’s head shot up at the sound of the AI voice announcing their emergence from cryo-sleep. Relief flooded him as he saw them slowly step out of their pod, tentatively poking a crew member as if wanting to make sure this was real. He understood the feeling.

‘Mornin’, Captain!’ Mark beamed as he strode over to greet them. He eyed the Captain up and down with concern. They looked about as exhausted and on edge as he’d felt upon waking up this time.

‘Ooh, you look like you’ve been through hell. Yeah, cryo-sleep sucks, but coffee can help.’ He offered them their mug which they took automatically. With a friendly clunk of his own cup against theirs, he made his way around the main console to talk with various crew members while the crew leads took turns speaking to the Captain.

‘Computer, let’s get those blast shields open.’

The head engineer let out an awed sigh at the view. ‘The trip was smooth. Just a few rocks, couple cosmic rays, nothing the computer couldn’t handle on its own,’ he reassured, hoping to ease their obvious trepidation. To his relief, they seemed to relax immensely at the sight of the planet before them. He watched as they reached out a gloved hand and pressed gently against the glass (memories of said glass shattering flashed across his mind, which he quickly dismissed).

A whole array of emotions crossed his Captain’s face as they admired the planet that would soon house the new colony. He could almost swear that he saw the tell-tale glisten of tears forming in their eyes. Eyes that were now wise and weary beyond their years. Eyes that had seen countless people die and the very fabric of time and space glitch and collapse and attempt to put itself together again. Eyes that could pierce right through his and pull him apart at the seams with a single look.

‘She is a beauty, isn’t she, Captain? The long range scans did not do her justice. Perfect in almost every way. We’ll still have to do top to bottom scans once we’re down on the surface but we’re moving equipment as fast we can. The crew is eager to get off the ship and onto solid ground. I think you can understand the sentiment.’

They watched as the shuttles disembarked from the main ship and made their way towards the planet. The Captain looked pleased to see progress already being made.

Mark hesitated for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask. Lifetimes worth of emotions lay pent up inside of him, itching at the walls of his throat and the tip of his tongue. But the guilt still bore down on him, and the fear of truly acknowledging and dwelling on all that had transpired between the two far outweighed the desire to talk and have it all laid out in the open where it couldn’t gnaw at his insides. No doubt his Captain would probably want to discuss it all eventually. Maybe they hated him right now and were just trying to hide it. Hell, he’d deserve it if they did. But he couldn’t have that conversation here and now. Not with the whole crew present and the colony to build. Not with so many people looking to both of them for direction and guidance. Maybe that was an excuse.

Instead: ‘And, uh, thank you…’ he uttered simply, voice low and earnest, as he felt their gaze turn towards him before finally bringing himself to meet their eyes, if only briefly.

‘...for, uh, not giving up on me. Just… thank you.’

The Captain gave him a sincere smile and he returned it with a nod. He wasn't sure he remembered the last time he saw them smile like that.

They brought the coffee mug up to their lips. It was one he’d reserved especially for them, bearing a clear message in bold text: ‘#1 Captain’.

As they finally took a sip, Mark hoped they understood that he meant it.

#head engineer mark x the captain #can be read as platonic or romantic #if you squint. really hard #amee writes #been a hot minute since I last used that tag haha #iswm #in space with markiplier #markiplier cu #markiplier egos #markiplier cinematic universe #markiplier connected universe #engineer mark #engineer!mark #head engineer mark

[aaronburrdaily]

December 24, 1808

Brummigem, (though, indeed, I have heard it several times called Birmingham.) Left Oxford at 7 this morning. We were four inside. The only article of any interest was a pretty little comely brunette, who had been through Blenheim Castle, and all the other places of note within twenty miles. Could describe all the pictures and statues ; had read all the fashionable novels and poetry, and seemed to know everybody and everything. I was never more at a loss in what rank of beings to class her ; but was very much amused. At twenty miles we put her down at a very respectable farmhouse. I handed her in ; was introduced to her aunt : “My dear aunt, this gentleman has been extremely polite to me on the road.” I received from aunt and niece a very warm invitation to call on my return, which I very faithfully promised to do, “whensoever,” &c. “If,” &c, &c. At Stratford, where lie the bones of Shakespeare, the barmaid gave me a very detailed account of the jubilee in honour of his memory. At about twenty miles farther was pointed out a very handsome establishment of Sir ⁠—⁠—— Smith, dit frère de Madame¹ Fitzherbert. For the last forty or fifty miles we had on board a strange, vulgar-looking fellow, who had been all over the world; spoke Latin, French, and Spanish; and in the course of three hours told me more than a hundred lies ; probably some itinerant Irish schoolmaster. The market place and the principal street, adjacent to which I am set down, is full of people. Tents, booths, lamps, candles, fiddlers, pipers, horns. Seeing nothing to amuse me within, I shall sally forth to see what's going forward without. But, first, I have taken passage for Liverpool, to set off at 1/2 p. 11, being advised that there is no other way to get on. Against my will, therefore, I go to Liverpool. We shall, from appearances, make a lively party. At this hour to-morrow I may have something more amusing to say. Now I go.

12 o'clock. Still at Birmingham. Full of contrition and remorse. Lost my passage. Lost or spent 28 shillings and a pair of gloves. Every bed in the house engaged. No hope of getting on but by the mail at 7 to-morrow morning. The office shut, and no passage to be taken to-night. What business had I to go sauntering about the streets of a strange place, alone and unarmed, on a Christmas eve? Truly, I want a guardian more than at 15. It was K.’s fault that I left my dirk, and I could choke him for it. I have often heard that great sinners have relieved their consciences by full confession. Let us try. I sallied forth. There were hundreds of pretty dressed folks of all sexes and ages, in little groups and very gay. I joined one party, and then another, and another. At length I got so well suited with a couple that we agreed to walk and see the town. I have always had a passion for certain branches of natural history. These, I thought, afforded me an opportunity of acquiring information ; and even now, amid all my regrets, I must acknowledge that it was a most instructive and, abating one rencounter, which had very nearly ended in a riot, a most amusing lesson. Hence it would seem that all this penitence is for the money and not for the folly, on which a very good theological discourse might be written. The subject shall be recommended to our friend the provost. Indeed, I was very much amused. I heard many amusing anecdotes of the grandees of the town, and some strange and pretty things. At this moment it comes into my head how to redeem this 28 shillings. It shall be done and then peace of conscience will be restored. I will take passage outside. Half price only. I am resolved, and you shall see how I execute.

1  Said to be the brother of Madame F.

#Aaron Burr #The Private Journal of Aaron Burr

[pirates-pirates-pirates]

The Captain's Dead Chapter 2

Ace has a habit of getting other people in trouble, taking them a long for the wild ride that his is own ambition and adventurous nature. Deuce is along for the ride.

Ace x Deuce [implied] SFW Word Count: 3,114 PART ONE HERE

Chapter 2: The Drunken Sailor

The stale bread and stagnant water had been enough to sustain him, the constant chatter of his new acquaintance rattling off in his ear was at least informative. He’d learned the man who indeed was only shy a year or two of his own age was called Ace and this pirate crew was on their way to find a great treasure.

A treasure everyone seemed to be racing across the world to acquire, a treasure that had been put in the minds of hundreds. A legend as old as the sea herself. He’d spent nights reading about it, pure fiction he’d told himself as he turned the pages, devouring the words like a man starved.

Wanting more and more of each winding, weaving creative lie splashed across the paper, brought to life by men with too much time at their desks or at the tavern listening to the drunken feverish stumbling tails from the lips of sailors and pirates alike.

It couldn’t be real.

But if it was nothing but the fancy of men three sheets to the wind why was it so sought after? There must have been a grain of truth in the stories. As he listened to Ace, about the captain he sailed with, the men that staked their lives to find it the harder his own heart beat, the faster his pulse raced.

The more his mind told him this is the adventure you were born to be on! He couldn’t help the corner of his lip twitch, a ghost of a smile as Ace poured all the information out. He’d learned how Ace came to sail with this crew, it was just until he could form his own, until he met the right people.

If he thought himself delusional then Ace was the king of fooling oneself, it was nice to see such hope on Ace’s face, how he believed in each and every word that tumbled from his rushing lips.

“And you have no loyalty to this crew?” he asked before ripping into the crusty edge of the loaf, stiff and stale in his mouth, grabbing the tankard of water to fill his mouth, and help the food go down.

“Not really, like I said, I plan on making my own crew, seeking my own fortune.” Ace hummed and took the hat off his head, setting it down on the table, a hand running through the wavey black locks.

“Do you even know how to read a map?”

“This again?” Ace sighed, his posture tense once more, he could see the man's hands clenching.

“No! reading a book is very different to reading a map!” he insisted and watched as Ace simmered down.

Ace had a hairline trigger temper, ready to ignite with any spark of agitation. Young, full of piss and vinegar. He could tell this man was destined to be his own boss, to sail his own flag, he was surprised he was doing so well under the boot of another man.

Maybe he was deeper than he assumed, maybe under the fire in his eyes, the emotiveness he displayed there was a hidden depth to him. Coiled and poised, ready to strike when the iron was hot but smart enough to know when the dog would get its day.

“I have this, better than what most use to navigate.” Ace started as he put a hand in his pocket, he pulled out something that shimmered in the dull light of the galley.

His eyes widened, a tentative hand raising, reaching to touch the item, he just wanted to skim his fingertips across the surface of the glass. He’d only heard about it in a few books. A type of navigation equipment that was said to have been created by Poisdeon himself to guide his men through the sea.

“Tha- that’s a log pose, correct?” he asked as Ace withdrew it, cupping it in his hands, like a tiny flame he was protecting from the elements.

“Yeah, my dad left it to me before he was ex- before he died.” Ace’s downcast gaze, furrowed brows, and the noticeable sag in his shoulders as his thumb gently caressed the object told him this was a subject not to be pressed.

“Those are, well, if you have one of those then the sea’s yours right?” he asked, another chomp of gone-off bread and swig of water.

“Yeah! I’m going to set fire to this world and prove myself.” Ace’s entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, the determination that brimmed there was something that took him aback.

Ace was someone worth knowing.

He set down the tankard, about to ask Ace something else when they both heard footsteps on deck, the sounds of men talking, laughing, shouting and the drunken singing of shanties filled their ears. Ace stood up from the table and grabbed his hat, placing it on his head firmly and nodding to him.

“Wanna meet the cap’?”

Following Ace up to the deck where the rest of the crew were was perhaps, the most nervous he’d ever been, and that was saying something. His heart in his throat he tried to school his expression to one of nonchalance, his hands buried in the pockets of his long coat as it swished around his legs. He looked the part at least, he hoped the dirt and grime he’d collected from a rough few days gave the appearance of someone as equally rough around the edges.

“I thought we said no guests, Matchstick.” a large man with a beard of flame red turned to face the two, and the smell of booze that wafted out his mouth as he spoke caused him to wrinkle his nose.

“Not a guest cap’ this guy climbed aboard, he wants to join us.” Ace explained as he slapped him on the back making him jerk forward,  he send Ace a sideways glare.

“Him? Fuckin’ twig stick ‘ere?” the man laughed, a full-body howl as his belly jiggled, a large hand landed on his head, messing up his hair.

“Boy, you know the rules, no one’s allowed on the ship without my permission. Don’t know what you dragged on board with ya, too many eyes and ears I ain’t familiar with is never a good omen. We’ll stick him in the brig until we know what ta do with him.” The captain said, amused at the face the newcomer made when he gripped the blue strands painfully.

Ace gave him an apologetic shrug of his shoulders when he was dragged from the deck with a look rife with anger and spite. He dragged his feet but it only served to harshen the pain on his scalp as the large man tugged him to his certain doom.

Unceramosionaly tossed into the holding cell, the clinking of keys against the rusted metal of bars rang out as a signal to despair him further as he stumbled, catching himself on the wall, turning with a pleading look,  he rushed to the closed door, gripping the bars with a hiss.

“Look atcha, like a petulant child ya give me that look. Don’t think I don’t know your sort. Fancy, a run away I’d gamble.” A hand gripped his chin tightly, forcing him to look left then right, the man humming in thought as his grip pinched his face harder.

“If ya folks don’t want ya, can join Ace in being the bottom rung on the ladder. Work ya way up.”

One thing was certain, he was proud of himself for not pissing in fear. That he managed to fight the fear and the bile that wanted to rise from within and spill over the foul-breathed pirate captain. His fate lay uncertain, he didn’t think his parents would even care he was missing let alone offer to pay a bunch of thieves and murderers for his safe passage home.

“Nothin’ to say?” the man quirked his eyebrows at him.

He simply narrowed his eyes, the jaw that was being held tight in the pirate's grasp clenched into a firm line, hiding the inner turmoil that swam and threatened to capsize his resolve in the moment.

“Fine, can beat that attitude out of ya anyway.” He let go of his face, turning to leave.

The large man looked over his shoulder, he stood still, head held up high as he watched the captain vanish up the creaky steps. The door slamming shut, the sound of a deadbolt slipping into place with a gut-wrenching finality to it signaled he could let out the breath he’d been holding.

He pressed a hand to his heart, he knew he was over exaggerating to think he could feel his heart against the bones within. He let out the breath, long and shakey, light-headedness clouded over him and he leaned against the wall. His hands gripped his hair, pulling at the lengths and gritting his teeth.

The bravery he’d had before the pirate captain left him, the adrenalin that had kept him from breaking down before the man slowly trickled away, he could feel tears prick the corners of his eyes as he tugged at blue harder, bit his lip until the taste of copper invaded his mouth, tinged his tastebuds as he clicked his tongue in irritants at his own fuck up.

--

Somehow sleep had granted him mercy, slouched in the corner with his coat pulled tight against him, he’d fallen into the softness that was the embrace of slumber. At first, he didn’t stir when footsteps echoed in the brig, he only began to stir when the jingle of keys and clicking of a lock being opened penetrated his sleepy haze.

He opened his tired eyes, puffy from crying himself into exhaustion. Blinking away the groggy feeling of sleep his eyes started to focus on the person kneeling in front of him, it was Ace again. The dark-haired man waved a hand in front of his face, trying to coax him into a more lucid state before he started to ramble.

“So,” he started and picked at a loose thread on his clothes.

“I may have started a mutiny.” said with such a careless air, announcing it as simple as one would announce they were going on a moonlit stroll.

“What? Why?” he rubbed his eye with the back of his hand, forcing himself to get with it, the cryptic words from Ace baffling his sleepy mind.

“I told you, I was just sailing until I met the right person.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, something about you, something gave me a good feeling. The most important part of being a pirate is the ability to trust your gut when it comes to people. My father told me that, how he formed the greatest crew that ever sailed.” Ace’s face was bathed in moonlight from one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

It showed honesty there, truth, and passion in the words he spoke. It was far from an inspiring speech yet it set something alight in himself. He nodded, that was all he could think to do, any backchat or further questions cast aside to be swept up and forgotten in the night air.

He understood exactly what Ace meant, no doubt clouded his mind, his usual concerns by the many were silent. Just the beating of his own heart between his ears, the breath the other man had stolen with his confession.

“Wanna sail with me?” Ace asked.

“If I say no will you still let me out?”

A laugh was his reply, it didn’t ease the tension left from his question, a warm hand reached out, wrapping around his wrist and for the second time that night, he was pulled up towards himself, towards a destiny, at that moment, looking into the eyes of the freckled man he knew he was going to be pulled along by him, lost to the current of his will, his infectious desires for an unwritten future.

--

Ace was right, he really had set something into motion. Men yelling at one another, their anger controlling them, too drunk to allow a slither of rational thought to step in, to try and cool the situation. The captain drew his sword, pointing it at the tall thin man, the first mate, spouting a speech of slurred words and paranoia.

Curses and heckling spat hissed shouted in a symphony of disharmony and discord. Every voice scrambling to be heard above the din, escalating the commotion, words that opened old wounds, cut deeper than the swords drawn, and poised to see blood ever could.

His eyes were wide as he watched the violence unfold, Ace still gripping his wrist tightly, leading him behind the stacked barrels and crates, their slender frames able to press between the small gap of the supplies and railing of the boat.  

“You really did cause some shit, didn’t you? Someone is going to die Ace!” he hissed.

“Nah, too drunk to stand straight, don’t worry so much.” Ace had the audacity to roll his eyes at him.

Don’t worry so much rang out in his mind, Ace claimed to know him already and clearly knew nothing of the mess he was as a person. He was about to spit something back about how Ace clearly didn’t worry enough when one of the men was thrown against a crate they were currently paused behind.

It started to wobble and rock, he held his breath, bracing for an impact that never came because once again the pirate saved his ass, yanking him down on the floor, against his body in time to miss the large object hitting them.

He stared down at a smirking Ace, his hands on either side of his head, light from the deck cast its glow on the grinning freckled face as Ace peered up at him. He felt the soft strands of ebony when his fingers flexed on reflex.

Feeling a heat burn its way across his cheeks, the tips of his ears feeling the tingle as he was rendered useless at their close quarters, the predicament he and the pirate found themselves in. Ace’s hand reached up, gripping his shoulders before giving them a squeeze.

“Hey, get up, come on.” Ace’s tone was amused though the urgent edge to it wasn't lost on him and his anxious mind.

He nodded his head wordlessly as he moved enough to let Ace up. The knowing smirk on Ace’s face pushed any worry from his mind, instead, he was consumed by the thought of This little shit, he’s going to be my death. Once again he was pulled, tugged, and jerked around by Ace before they were out the other side.

The crew had by this point come to blows, the yelling sounding out louder, the clashing sound of metal as swords waved in the air, colliding against one another with malicious intent. Ace climbed up on the side, looking down at the rowboat covered in a cloth tarp, he reached over and started to untie the well-crafted knot in the rope keeping it attached to the sloop.

“Keep a lookout.” Ace commanded and he was about to tell the man he wouldn’t be ordered around.

That protest died when there was a scream of agony, he watched the scene unfold, one of the men with a sword plunged into his thigh, the pirate grasping at the handle with slippery hands, coated in blood, slick and catching the moonlight. He felt his stomach do a flip as Ace worked diligently behind him.

“Hey! Come on!” Ace tugged the back of his coat’s collar, rough, demanding of his attention.

“W-what?” he was feeling faint, all that blood.

On the man's hands, down the sword, dripping on the deck with a pitter-patter like goreish rain. He gulped, the colour draining from his face, and Ace winced, knowing what the look on his companion's face would entail.

He heard white noise fill his ears as his vision blurred around the corners. Ace sucked in a breath through his teeth before he slapped him across the face. Everything sped up again, living life as it should have been, feeling the sting on his face, the echoing of nothingness gone from his slowly waning conciseness, pulled fully back into the moment.

“Ow!” he hissed, hand on his stinging cheek.

“Baby.” Ace snorted, as he gripped a rope tighter.

“Just get in the fucking boat, you can cry about it in a second yeah?” frustration oozing from Ace’s voice, his brows furrowed.

“And I will.” He replied as he climbed into the rowboat, sitting down and watching Ace.

The small boat was lowered into the ocean, a gentle slap of wood meeting the water, a pleasant sound amidst the bloodshed on deck. He would have missed it if he’d blinked but the look of guilt on Ace’s face as he glanced back up at the boat. This was a man who had too much heart he deduced in that pained expression, gone in a second, his focus needed for the current situation.

“Now what?”

“Hold on.”

“Hold on?” he laughed and leaned back casually, how fast did this man think he could row with arms like that? Sure he was some definition but he was still scrawny compared to the men ripping through one another above.

“Fine.”

He quirked an eyebrow, his smirk wavered a little as he watched Ace stomp over to the backside of the boat. He cupped his hands together like he was waiting to catch a jumping fish. 

About to open his mouth to make a jabbing comment, a quip on just what the hell Ace thought he was doing before there was heat, searing warmth, and the brightest flash of brilliant oranges and yellows filled his vision.

“I told you! Hold on!” Ace yelled again.

And this time he took heed, gripping the sides for dear life as the fire grew, a blast from his hands, hitting the water and sending the boat rocketing over the sea, the boat skimming like a pebble thrown at the perfect angle.

He screamed in surprise and fear as the boat carried on, faster and faster as the flames Ace was somehow producing got hotter and bigger. The boat bounced on the surface, the dock, the island the pirate ship, all fading in the blink of an eye.

Despite his best attempts, how hard he squinted into the distance, life as he knew it was well and truly gone. The beginning of his adventure, his life as a pirate had started. Just like a match struck everything changed.

Thanks to Ace.

#masked deuce #portgas d ace #one piece #fire fist ace #portgas d. ace #ace x deuce #deuce x ace #pirates #sfw

[diaryofdayet]

Apr 21 𓇢𓆸 Los Angeles

I was late getting out of the house for reasons I can barely remember now. I drove downtown and scrabbled through the streets looking for parking. I was meeting Gino and Kinsley for something called Bob Baker Day. I wasn't sure what it was yet.

When I entered the park I realized I'd left my phone in the car. No problem, I thought, I'll find them with my intuition.

I began walking the length of the park, looking at passersby for clues. I soon realized I must be walking away from the main event because the families walking with me all carried puppets. Trinkets, I realized, that they were taking home. The puppets were made of electric blue, green, and pink shag, and the slightest motion made them bounce and dance on their delicate string.

I turned around and walked until the fair unfolded before me. Food stalls, tent flags, and summer umbrellas burst into being like a scene in a collapsible book. And there, a head above the hundreds of families, couples, and clowns, stood Gino, waiting in line for a musubi. I greeted him and Kinsley then wandered to the nearest display. It was a children's talent show. A little boy was showing off his marionette.

"What do you wanna be when you grow up?" The emcee asked when his performance was over.

"Uh, I don't know."

The next act was an eight-year-old girl with a smooth bob and sequined skirt.

"I'm here to do stand-up," she grinned.

I clapped and hooted as I watched through the wooden support beams on the side of the stage. Had I been this cogent at eight?

I rejoined Gino and Kinsley. They bought me a lemonade and we began walking towards the other end of the fair. We passed the talent show just as a blonde boy was pie-ing his twin.

On the other end of the fair was a corral for a puppet show. We edged along the stands for a view of its opening number. Four puppeteers emerged dressed in red, and I recognized one of them from my nights at the theater. She'd said she worked with puppets, but I hadn't realized this was what she meant.

We walked the course of the field. We ran into Colleen, who was manning a stall advertising next month's kite festival. We looked for ice cream but didn't find any.

"Well, see you in a bit," Kinsley said, and we parted ways.

I stopped by a coffee shop on my way to rehearsal and read my book. Rehearsal was at Archie's parents' house, a place I rarely went to because Archie was territorial about it. Maybe because it was a suburban Eden, a home built by people so epicurean they probably didn't like guests.

The house sat on a wide street winged by palm trees. It was set back from the sidewalk and built with mossy wood paneling that receded into the shadows of the front garden. The inside was tan and brown, rich, earthy colors that grounded the dizzying tableaus in each room: a cobalt painting of a swirling, dancing woman, an old portrait of a distant relative. In the back, a white-tiled kitchen reflected the dazzling green light of the garden. In the garden, grape vines hung over a dinner table, vegetables grew in small garden plots, and two démodé electric cars sat in the garage. In the back corner, there was a studio where the father had built a career drawing television cartoons in the nineties.

We rehearsed in the garden, troubleshooting new lines and blocking changes. Carrie shared the gameplan for the night of our show:

"We can go to my place after and hang out with all our parents, have some drinks."

My face fell. I'd hoped for something a little more...relaxed? Something that didn't involve small talk with everyone's parents.

"What's that facial expression?" Carrie asked me.

"Well, I just...I don't know, I'm a bit disappointed." Without planning to, I started crying and talking about how my own parents wouldn't be there for the show.

Carrie, Kinsley, and Sam rushed to hug me. Archie stood at a distance and looked off in the other direction. With a chill, I remembered that he'd called himself a sociopath the other night. Was that it? Or was he just on to me and my crocodile tears—did he wonder, like me, if I'd cried to just get out of a confrontation?

Anxious, I went home and wrote for a few hours. I cooked chicken for dinner and mapped out the next few weeks. I went to sleep and dreamed of everything going wrong the night of the play.

𓇢𓆸

Dayet

#writing #journal #diary

[allovertheworldblog]

Bleu, bleu, bleu - South Pacific

"Bleu, bleu, bleu!".

That was all I could say on seeing the ocean to the French woman who picked me up when I was hitchhiking.

She says nonchalantly, ‘that’s the Pacific, no?’ in French.

I had to agree.

Before I left the island I thought I should something more of the place other than the capital.

So, I bought a tent and a sleeping bag and set forth.

I took a bus up the coast, during which journey I was eaten alive by bed bugs.

The first day I camp at a proper site with snacks and grossly overpriced food and toilet paper for sale.

I had time before the sun set to walk out into the ocean.

It was a curious place.

When I arrived the sea was out and I could see small waves breaking far out,

maybe a mile out and could hear the noise as well.

But at the beach it was all quiet.

So I went for a walk into the sea.

After sunset there isn’t much to do so I retreat to my tent and read a bit.

The next day I pack up my tent and hitch a lift back to the main road and catch a bus to Kone up the coast.

My guidebook says indicates there’s a place to camp there.

I figure this must be a similar place to the one I’ve left.

I was wrong.

In Kone I have to hitch a lift again to to the coast.

People in a 4x4 truck bring me in the back.

When we reach the beach I ask them where the place is.

They gesture 'over there’.

There isn’t a camp site, but rather a place that one can camp.

I mull over whether to stay in the middle of nowhere with nothing around.

It’s only just after 3pm so I still have time. 

A guy running sailing classes from the beach for kids tells me that I pitch my tent on a grassy patch beside the beach.

He warns however that mosquitoes will make their presence when it gets dark.

A local kid, the son of fishermen in the area, warns me the same thing.

The sailing club closes up and I’m on my own.

Thankfully Matthieu and Bettie, a French couple, happen by and ask if they pitch their tent beside me.

I gladly tell them that they’d be more than welcome.

We watch the sun go down and they share their wine and beer with me. 

Later they have to move their tent back from the shoreline for fear that the sea will swamp them.

My tent seems ok, I fall asleep to the sound of the sea lapping, there’s no sound other than the sea.

The sea is about 5 or 6 feet from my feet but I manage to get to sleep. 

I’m awoken a couple of times in the night by fishermen going out to sea and coming back home.

They walk so close to my tent they could be on top of it.

The next day the French couple give me a lift back to Kone.

Kone is a town that is heavily involved in the nickel industry, which is central to the island.

Kone has the feel of a frontier town.

I decide to take a bus back to Noumea to recuperate from my bites, which by now are making their presence felt.

The bus is full to bursting but they manage to squeeze us all in.

The centre aisle of the bus has an extra fold out seat that is connected to one of the seats permanent seats. 

The bus is mainly patronised by Kanak people.

Some poorer European French also use the bus.

The better off from both communities would sooner fly if possible or use their own car.

Back in Noumea I check into the hostel again and wear long trousers to hide my embarrassing itchy bites, which number an almost incredible one hundred.

#travel #culture #photography

[sparrowowoods]

1-5 for your surana or character of your choice!

Thank you so much :pleading:

what drives them? what's their ultimate goal?

They Need to save people. Everyone. As a circle mage, a girl who's been there so long any figures from her past have long since been replaced in her mind with Chantry faces, she's really internalized a lot of Chantry stuff and first above them "Magic is meant to serve man" and then, joining the Wardens whose job is to protect all of Thedas, really hammers it in. They're deeply compassionate and it is the thing that keeps them afloat during the chaos of the Blight. Neria doesn't know what the next step will bring or what to do about anything, she's been in Kinloch Hold forever and now everything's a mess with the Blight, but she moves towards whoever needs help.

2. what was your original concept for this character? how did playing them change that concept? I didn't have one! I don't play a lot of video games and knew very little about dragon age before my girlfriend got me into it so I was just along for the ride. Before playing Neria, I actually never understood when my girlfriend would say her character would do this or wouldn't do that.

3. can they accept failure? It depends. For personal things, hobbies and skills, yea no problem. Initially, she cannot cook or set up a tent or start a fire without magic but that's ok :) She's just happy to be here. If it effects someone else? No. They will grieve the fall of Lothering and Ser Tamra's death forever.

4. what one person, place, or thing do they love more than anything else? Leliana, Vigil's Keep, and magic. Leliana is kind, she's funny, and Neria thought she was out of her mind when they first met but was happy to get any extra help. The fact she's a bard and knows all these stories, has all this knowledge of the world that is wholly unknown to Neria enraptures her. She'll sit and listen to Leliana tell the same story over and over again because of how interesting it is (and it's a great excuse to stare at her because she's also very pretty). Vigil's Keep is a place that represents and means so much to her. It's something she could never have dreamed of back in the circle. Even with a bunch of weird darkspawn, being incredibly busy every second of the day, and needing to talk to nobles. Neria is an elf and a mage and she's got all these people looking up to her! It's weird but incredible and she really, really, wants to make a difference. And she loves being a grey warden and stretching what it means to be one. Magic is who she is. It's what she's good at, what she understands and relies on when nothing makes any sense. It's also fun! She likes studying and debating nitpicky theories and was beyond delighted to meet Dagna. As a good little circle mage, blood magic would be and was horrifying to her (especially after the emotional fallout of Jowan using it and then Uldred) but after she met and killed the Architect, it's something she'd study academically but probably never practice. Important to know though, and interesting!, considering how the grey wardens use it.

5. is there something they want to be known for?

Yes. She wants (a statue, she was so bummed the dwarves didn't offer to make one for her) to change things for mages and for elves. After saving Amaranthine (and Vigil's Keep) and needing to construct it basically from the ground up, there is no way in hell she kept the alienage. One hundred percent gone. I'm sure elves generally stick with elves and humans with humans, but they don't have to. They can talk, fight, fuck, etc as one city. She also got Kinloch Hold its independence and would be very happy to kick the templars out and never see one of them ever ever again. They read their first theory, crediting Dagna with inspiration, and talked about how templars and dwarves use magic on its steps (not, entirely, to piss off the Chantry but a little bit for sure). Also. She's very autistic and nonbinary. Also also, she happens to look a little like florence welch.

#dragon age #surana #thank you so much for asking

[uozlulu]

manga spoilers

Some fic thoughts on the WIPs I have currently:

IzuOcha - Ochaco wrote a love letter to him in her notebook with no intent of showing it to him, he ends up seeing it when he borrows her notes and vows to help her get together with the unaddressed person because never once does it cross his mind that that person would be him (meanwhile the whole class knows and this is kind of free entertainment)

It petered out on me when we got the second year shift in the manga and now that I’m not sure when or how to set it (since it was originally going to be set in second year) I’m like ???? but I could just make it an AU or maybe set it in third year in a world in which post-war classes resume like usual or something. But then that goes in the face of wanting to see the hero society restructure and so forth and so idek. Could probably just set it towards the end of first year instead. Much to think about.

ES 21 wedding and flashback memory romance fic

I need a scene for Hiruma and  a scene for Mamori still before I can figure out how to thread the flashback memory stuff between wedding scenes

I think part of what the hold up is about is that while the other couples chose each other post-high school, I think Hiruma and Mamori actually chose each other during high school so I probably need to approach their scenes with that in mind because up to this point I was thinking about giving them post-canon scens like everyone else

BnHA does a Tenchi in Love kind of fic

The fic ground to a halt when I had Midoriya interact with Nana so I probably need to reevaluate that scene and if they should meet so quickly

I also need to come up with some more concrete scenes for everyone to fill in the gaps

I think if I figure out what I’m doing with the villain that will help

Also probably should decide how AFO fits into this because I don’t think I took him into account which is kind of silly because if they’re time traveling back to when Yagi was in high school then I should figure out what’s going on with AFO

Stone Ocean fic in which instead of Green Baby, Jonathan appears

Been thinking about this one since I read the manga

I have little confidence in my ability to write these characters however especially Jonathan

The general structure would be Jolyne, Foo Fighters, and Anasui find this guy in the middle of all the plant people. They’re not sure what to make of it but Jolyne notices that this guy has the same birthmark everyone in her family does

Things go from there. Pucci is in for a shock.

No clue how to end the fic

Black Clover ch 336 inspired One Piece cross over fic

I have a tentative idea of how the fic begins

I figured out why Zoro is there - he ended up immortal and BC is the OP universe decades or hundreds of years later but I have to like think about how that works for him as a character a bit more

Decide what to do about Luffy if anything - is he also immortal? Did that spoiler swallow him whole? Is he dead? Questions questions

How does Asta get back to Clover by the end of a week? Clearly by using some sort of dimensional rift. Maybe passing through the wege? Maybe through some magic rift that allowed Yami to arrive on Clover?

Do I want to include what the others have been up to in Asta’s absence?

I have some ideas about how post-Lucius defeat works out but I don’t really have a game plan for defeating Lucius, though I do have some vague thoughts

Is this fic worth it considering we’ll find out who shadow man is next wek? Although it’s already an AU by default so that might not matter

Clearly Hi no Kuni is what Wano became after all this long time so that helps some things maybe

Zoro of course travels with Asta because since Zoro’s sense of direction is alcohol based, the meade and wine are probably calling to him. This might help with finding the dimensional rift to Clover Kingdom

Ideally I’d like to get the ES 21 to a first draft and into the editing process before all the other fics since it’s the most put together in my head and also th one closest to having a finished first draft pretty much. Would also like to see the time travel BnHA fic get finished someday but that one might be too ambitious to pull off with limited free time. Would also like to put out the IzuOcha fic because I think it could be cute and well-received. The ch 336 fic will probably all depend on how inspiration solidifies my thoughts about it. Probably not going to write the JJBA fic but I’m still surprised no one’s written a variant on that theme before considering it’s not DIO’s bone but Jonathan’s bone technically

#long post #things to write #adventures in fic writing #i don't know what to tag this #because i'm feeling kind of tag lazy #sorry about that

[orcelito]

Oh my god I'm almost to 20k hits

#speculation nation #discacc shit #20k separate page loads...... oh my god #like i remember when i was so excited about reaching 500 hits #now i get 500 hits within a day of posting. if not sooner. #numbers keep climbing and im watching it become more and more known #and like this is the goal but also #i am but a humble writer with thoughts about the series #tentatively... setting my thoughts out there... for hundreds of people to see and read #wow....

[talkfantasytome]

Stay - Pt. 2

Later that night, after tending to the wounded, Nesta finds herself going to check on Cassian and his wrist. Or, at least, that's what she tells herself.

Warnings: It gets soft. | Word Count: 3,667 | Nessian Masterlist

Part 1 | Read on AO3

a/n: Well, I wasn't going to update so soon, but people got me on a bit of a Mor rampage, and this is how I calm myself.

A faelight was on in his tent.

Not that Nesta was looking.

No, she just happened to be passing by his tent as she walked toward her own. The two weren't particularly far apart.

She definitely wasn't looking. The first time.

The second time…she didn't really have an explanation for that.

It was late. Extremely so. Nesta was sure they were closer to sunrise than they were to when the sun had set. But she couldn't sleep.

She'd made it back to her tent after noticing the light in Cassian's. Managed to rinse off her body with a damp cloth and change into her nightgown.

But Nesta never made it to her bed.

Instead, she pulled on her cloak and slid into her boots. She made sure Elain was still sleeping and then slipped back out the tent. She didn't consciously know where she was going, and yet she did.

She found herself walking back toward Cassian's tent, not a thought in her brain to tell her why. She didn't need it. Something within her glowed with knowledge and anticipation. Her heartbeat picked up when she laid eyes on the tent and found it still lit.

Her pace slowed the closer she got, her breathing deepening. What was she doing? What was she planning? She couldn't exactly knock on the cloth flap. Would she just say 'knock knock'? Gods, how pathetic would that sound?

She could say 'hello', add a lilt to make it sound like a question, and wait to see if he comes. Or, maybe she should try to peek her head in? But what if he was…

Nesta felt a pit in her throat as she gulped. Her entire body began to quiver.

She was only a few feet away from the flap of the tent when it opened and a horrifically perfect, golden head walked through it.

Freezing in place, Nesta's eyes widened as they met solid brown.

"What are you doing here?" Mor asked, her tone accusatory. It had Nesta's body stiffening, her arms crossing over her chest as she lifted her chin. She was done being intimidated by this female. She had nothing to be ashamed of, at least not in regards to Mor. No reason to cower before her. She was just as good as some High Fae bitch whose special power was truth. Whatever that meant.

"I was taking a walk. Saw the light, thought I'd check on Cassian. His arm," Nesta replied. Her voice was strong, sure, and she frosted it with a hint of ice for good measure.

Mor raised a sharp brow at her. "At this hour, after the night we had? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I could say the same to you." Nesta wouldn't waver, wouldn't step down. Not tonight. She'd spent just as much time as Mor that night tending to the injured; bandaging limbs, treating wounds, listening to hundreds of recounts of the battle.

Hearing Cassian's name on every Illyrian's lips. The story of how he all but won the battle single-handedly.

Nesta heard every word. She tried to look like she wasn't listening. Like it didn't make a difference to her if he was a god reincarnate or just a lucky bastard. And, in reality, it didn't. She'd listen either way.

She saw how the younger soldiers admired him, wanted to be him, tried to claim they helped him in some way. And she noticed how some of the older ones, the camp lords, grumbled about him being a show-off. Right before they'd flinch from Nesta getting too close. She couldn't help but smirk at those reactions.

"I was checking in on my friend." Mor took a step toward Nesta. "You should go back to your tent. Cassian needs to sleep."

Nesta felt her teeth begin to grind. Her hands in the crook of her elbows balled into fists as something roared within her, like a wildfire in a dry wood. She didn't know why, didn't know what it was taking over her body, sending her reeling.

All she knew was that Cassian wasn't Mor's to claim. And the idea that this bitch would even try had a growl forming in her gut she barely managed to clamp down.

Before she could say anything, a large figure appeared at the entrance to the tent. "I think Cassian can decide that for himself," he said, his voice low.

She looked up and met those hazel eyes. Assessing yet, somehow, warm as they watched her, held her gaze. Nesta didn't look away. Didn't stand down or shrink as he stared. She just stared back, something growing between them she could sense, but couldn't identify.

Her breathing grew rapid, her heartbeat increasing with every second they continued to stare at each other.

Cassian's lips twitched up and to the right. "Nesta." He stepped to the side and lifted the flap for her, an unspoken invitation.

Their eyes remained linked as she walked, his hazel glowing in the soft faelight of his tent. She didn't remember making the decision to accept the invitation, but she couldn't stop herself.

She stepped through the flap beneath his arm, entering the tent and sighing at the warmth. Nesta was still tentative about a lot of magic, but she definitely didn't mind it being used this way. Nor did she mind the scent that completely engulfed her. It was like a dwindling fire in a snowy field.

Pivoting, her body hidden behind Cassian, she lifted herself onto her toes to look over his shoulder. Mor was staring at Cassian with clear confusion.

"Mor," he sighed. The blonde took a step forward, but paused in disbelief when he added, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Nesta wished she could paint like Feyre. Capture that face, that look of shock and something like horror, and a brief flash of rejection. She probably shouldn't have been celebrating being the cause of that.

Then again, what right did Mor have to feel any of those things?

Cassian came back into the tent and sealed the flaps shut before turning to face Nesta.

She jerked backward, realizing just how close she was standing to him, and stumbled, only finding balance because Cassian snaked his arm around her back to hold her up.

Their gazes met again and they were both still for a moment, breathing in harmony, their chests brushing each other. But then Cassian straightened, helping Nesta find her footing.

He kept his arm around her, and for a moment Nesta felt content and safe, as if there was nothing to worry about in the whole world. No war, no evil king, no meddling friends. Just her and Cassian.

Cassian.

Whose arm she'd bandaged that evening.

She jumped from him. "Your wrist!"

"Other arm, Nes," he chuckled, waving the bandaged left wrist in front of her.

"Oh. Right." Nesta felt her cheeks heat slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She held one arm at the elbow with the other hand, rubbing the hand up and down slightly for something to do. But she didn't know where to look or what to say, standing there in Cassian's tent.

Alone with him. In the middle of the night.

It went against everything she was taught, every rule of society she was accustomed to. But she didn't want to leave. Not yet.

Nesta waited for Cassian to say something…anything. He just stared at her. She wasn't looking, but she could feel his gaze, his entire being focused on her, watching her every twitch.

"So, um…how is your arm?" she finally asked, lifting her eyes back to his.

He let out a soft chuckle that sounded far too much like music than any laugh should. "Feels great! I'm pretty sure the swelling's gone down. No doubt, it'll be good as new by tomorrow."

She responded with a small nod as she mentally cursed herself for her idiocy. Of course it was doing fine, it was a small sprain on a Fae.

"Good." She sighed softly. "Then I guess I-"

"Do you want to take a look, anyway?" Cassian blurted out quickly, as if he was in a race to ensure he asked the full question before Nesta finished her sentence. "You are, technically, my healer."

He flashed her a grin and Nesta gently narrowed her eyes. "I'm not a healer." He simply shrugged. "But sure."

His smile grew impossibly wider. Cassian took her hand in his right and led her to his cot. They sat beside each other as they had on the log earlier, their bodies slightly turned toward the other, their knees grazing.

Cassian held out his wrist for Nesta. She took it gently in her hands and began to unwrap the bandage, trying to ignore the spark she felt each time her skin brushed his.

He was right. The swelling had gone down. His wrist was completely back to its normal size, but it was still slightly purple. And when she poked it he hissed just as he had before. He tried to bite down on it, but even if he'd succeeded she would've felt the way he tensed beneath her touch.

"Don't move," she ordered, letting go of his arm and standing.

Nesta could feel his eyes following her as she made her way across the tent. She found the bucket of water she was looking for and brought it back over along with a clean cloth. Cassian's stare never left her. And her heart never stopped pounding like a drum.

She sat back down and, as gently as she could, dipped the cloth in water and started cleaning his wrist again.

"That's not gonna do much good with the old bandage, sweetheart." Cassian spoke so softly, but with a hint of amusement.

Nesta felt herself smile as she kept her eyes on his wrist. Kept her head ducked so he wouldn't see that reaction, the way she warmed at the way he was talking to her. "I have a clean one in my cloak."

"Well, someone came prepared."

"It's leftover from tonight," she replied. Her heart wasn't wavering, but she was able to school her features enough to look back up at him with an indifferent look. "You just got lucky."

Cassian threw her a crooked grin. "No argument here."

She rolled her eyes, turning slightly to grab the fresh bandage out of her cloak. It wasn't long before she had his wrist re-wrapped.

"How does that feel?"

"Even more perfect," he purred.

She lifted her gaze from his arm to his eyes, stilling when they made contact.

Nesta would never admit it out loud, not even in her conscious thoughts. But, deep in her heart, she knew she'd never seen a more beautiful color than the shade of Cassian's eyes. Brown fading into green, sparkling with flecks of gold, warm and bright.

They stared at each other, their gazes locked and neither had the key to release them. Or neither wished to use it.

She felt Cassian's hand shift, kissing his palm to hers and entwining their fingers. Nesta didn't look down. Didn't look at how they'd tangled together. And neither did Cassian. He held her gaze, something glistening in his eyes she couldn't quite read as he lifted their hands.

Her rose beige skin seemed so pale in contrast with the golden brown of his own.

Nesta's breathing deepened, her nostrils flaring softly and her eyes widening as he brought their hands up. As he brushed his lips to hers and sent her entire body shivering.

Still she watched him. And he her. Paralyzed by each other's stares, unwilling to break it.

"Thank you," he whispered as he lowered their linked hands.

She didn't respond. Barely parted her lips in an attempt. Instead she swallowed, savoring the feel of his calloused fingers grazing the top of her hand.

Dangerous, she finally reminded herself. As if she just found the word that had been eluding her all night.

Cassian was dangerous. He always had been, to her. But now. After being violated by Hybern and forced into this new life, with the war raging around them, a whole continent of people in danger, and Cassian heading off to battle and fighting like he had nothing to return to, Nesta found herself where she'd never wanted to be. Not with him.

Vulnerable.

Yes, she kept her walls up. She'd done her best not to let him in. But she'd failed.

Just like she had with her training.

Knowing she was mere moments away from releasing her control, Nesta finally broke away, looking down and clearing her throat. She started to stand as she said, "Well, I should-"

Her voice cut out when she felt him tug on her arm, refusing to let go of her hand.

"You could stay," he suggested. She tried not to turn her face, to look back at the eyes she could feel boring into the back of her head.

Another failure.

His eyes were as wide as a deer's and as exposed as a bear in the middle of a large meadow.

She could read it all in that moment. The want, the hope, the fear. Everything he always hid from her, as she did him.

"I d-"

"Please," he added.

"You're injured, Cassian." She tried not to stop and say his name again. To feel it on her lips, the sheer perfection of the sound. "You do need to sleep."

He chuckled softly. "I wasn't planning on doing anything else. But that doesn't mean you can't join me." He paused, waiting for her reply, but she just stared at him. At those eyes, completely entrancing and pulling her close as he threw out a final plea. "Just for tonight?"

Nesta had never felt her chest pound as quickly as it was in that moment, as she reminded herself that this was a bad idea. Her propriety lessons seemed to be shouting at her and she could feel her mother rolling over in her grave. And yet, she nodded.

Cassian's entire body seemed to sag in relief as he let out a loud sigh, a faint smile resting on his lips.

Nesta disposed of the old bandage and moved the bucket back to the corner she'd found it. As she did, Cassian stood and stretched, his wings spreading as far as they could in the tent so that when Nesta turned, she found herself face to face with the black, membranous appendages.

Beautiful, she found herself thinking. Yet, all too soon, Cassian was tucking them in and turning to face her.

Nervously, she fiddled with the tie of her cloak.

"I'll get in first and turn around until you join me," Cassian offered, not waiting for her response to do just as he said.

She knew it was silly. The Fae didn't hold to the same standards and social rules as the humans. And her full-length nightgown wasn't exactly revealing, either. The blue, satin material was completely opaque, only revealing her bare arms and decolletage. Still, it wasn't until Cassian was lying in the cot, his head facing the back of the tent that she was able to remove the cloak and drape it over a chair.

Nesta slid into the bed, already warming with Cassian's body heat, and pulled the blanket over her and Cassian.

Once it was in place, Cassian shifted. It wasn't exactly graceful or smooth. Considering the size of the cot, it took him a full minute before he was on his side and facing Nesta, both wings behind him.

He looked at Nesta, their faces mere inches apart on the pillow, their bodies flush against each other to keep them both on the cot. For a moment they just stared again, each with the ghost of smile on their lips, until Cassian requested, "Tell me a story?"

"I don't know any," she sighed through a laugh.

"With how much you read? I don't believe that for one second."

She looked down for a moment, her eyes falling on his rising and falling chest. Thank the gods it was covered. Nesta doubted she'd be holding herself so well if he'd been shirtless this entire time. "I don't think you want to hear those stories."

Cassian's lips curved into a smirk as he said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I do."

She tapped him on the chest with the back of her hand as a scoff escaped her lips, Cassian laughing freely.

"Okay, fine," he breathed. "Tell me something about yourself."

"I like to read."

Cassian groaned and flicked her nose, making Nesta scrunch her face as she attempted to swat his hand away. It didn't deter him much, though. Instead he simply grabbed her hand and held it softly, the clasped hands falling to rest between them beneath their chins.

"Something I don't know."

"You should've clarified when you asked," she replied. He tilted his head as much as he could, his eyes expectant. "I like chocolate."

Cassian rolled his eyes softly. "Don't all females?"

"The smart ones." Cassian let out a low chuckle, his eyes flicking around her face, as if he were trying to memorize every line. It stole her breath away. He stole her breath away. It was another thing she couldn't admit. "And I love music."

"Hmm," he sighed, his eyes shuttering closed.

"And dancing."

Cassian's lips twitched up for a moment, his hand giving hers a squeeze.

"But I can't sing to save my life," she whispered. Nesta watched him for a moment, waiting for a response, but nothing came. His breathing grew even, the hold on her hand slackening slightly. His lips were now parted and his eyes fully shut.

His face looked softer, relaxed in a way she hadn't seen before. As if, in sleep, all his cares faded away. She wondered if being with her helped him with that, the way laying next to him seemed to with her.

She tightened her own grip on his hand and snuggled a bit closer to him, drifting to sleep as a thought flashed across her mind she'd never be able to say aloud.

And I think I might be falling for you.

For a moment, Nesta couldn't remember where she was. All she knew was that she felt warm and safe and entirely unburdened.

She wanted to stay wherever she was and drift right back off to sleep, but her eyes seemed to have a different plan.

They fluttered open to reveal a strong, ridiculously attractive male, with jaded lines and rough features that seemed like they could call to the wind. And then she remembered.

Cassian. She'd spent the night with Cassian, in his bed, her hand still in his.

Whatever peace she felt quickly vanished as she recalled the various decisions she'd made last night. What she offered to him just through her actions.

What was she thinking? Showing up at Cassian's tent in the middle of the night to 'check on his arm'?

She felt the beating of a drum within her gut as her face lit on fire. It was too much.

Ever so carefully, she removed her hand from his and turned her body, only to realize his wing had curled around her during the night. She poked her arm out of the bed as a first step, and then snapped it back in at the bitter cold she felt.

Now that she thought about it, Nesta realized her torso felt far warmer than her legs. Something cracked within her. The wing - it was keeping them warm, keeping her warm.

She looked over her shoulder. Cassian's hair was tousled around the pillow, his lips just slightly parted, his cheeks adorned with the faintest flush. She couldn't stop the smile that spread at the sight.

And that was the problem.

Nesta turned back and braced herself, sliding out of the bed gently and then rushing to where she'd left her cloak. She threw the garment over her shoulders, her entire body shivering as she grew accustomed to the chilly, morning air.

A quick look around the tent, at how it was slightly lit by the outside light coming through the canvas, told Nesta it was likely only just past sunrise.

Perfect. That hopefully meant there wouldn't be many others out and seeing her make her way back to her tent.

Taking a seat in the chair, Nesta grabbed her boots and pulled them on. She did up the laces quickly and stood again. There was nothing else of hers in the tent, but something was keeping her there, pulling her back to the occupied cot.

She sighed, turning and looking at Cassian, still sleeping peacefully. He didn't ever look old, but something about this state did make him look younger. Nesta found herself walking back toward the cot and stopping at the edge. His chest continued to rise and fall evenly, his breath caressing the pillow beneath him.

Slowly, Nesta reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, the strands soft against her skin. She used the movement to push some of his hair out of his face and reveal that devastating profile. She trailed her fingers through his hair a second time, that smile returning to her face.

With Cassian asleep, Nesta let herself speak in a whisper. "I'm sorry I have to go. I…well…I think you'll understand. Maybe I'll see you later."

One last stroke of his hair, and she was pivoting on her heel and tiptoeing out the tent.

The second she stepped outside Nesta grabbed her cloak and held it close to her body. She looked around for a moment, gaze falling on a pair of brown eyes widening at the sight.

With a small smirk, Nesta lifted her chin and turned her face away from the shimmering, golden hair as Mor stood aghast in front of her tent, starting toward her own tent where she hoped to get a few more hours of sleep.

a/n: Part of me was a bit worried about this piece and it maybe going a bit too OOC. But, the more I thought about it, the more I think that, judging SOLELY on ACOMAF and ACOWAR Nesta and Nessian, I don't think it is if we consider Cassian's adjusted action in part 1. The whole concept of this is, essentially, what could've been if he showed her the priority he supposedly felt for her. It's basically turning into a story of what it might have been like if Cassian had continuously chosen Nesta and showed her that she can trust him. It's leaving-for-the-High-Lord's-meeting Cassian, and what ACOWAR might've been like for them if he'd continued with that type of attitude, dodging Mor's hand so he could talk to Nesta, so he could take her hand and look at her while they winnowed. (*swoon*) And, when I consider that, and the way Cassian defended her in the meeting, how he believed her when even Feyre didn't, if he'd kept up with that, vs. essentially rejecting her/prioritizing Mor, I think Nesta might've opened up more, too. She's still guarded, of course. And nervous, and dealing with having been human all her life and learning their societal rules. But there's a pull there she can't deny. And, in this fix, he makes her feel safe because he chooses her constantly and shows her that she matters to him.

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @nestaisgod @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @angelic-voice-1997 @moodymelanist @sv0430 @nesquik-arccheron @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir @vinylcryes @shinya-hiiragi @starryblueskies7 @the-key-to-me-myself-and-i

If you'd like to be added to my tag list, let me know!

#nessian #nessian fic #nessian fanfiction #nessian au #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta and cassian #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #acowar fix #scene fix #i fixed #fix it #morrigan #possessive #possessive behavior #soft nessian for the winnn #soft #tension #maybe #more #hand holding

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Swimming Lessons.

(1-1)

Short story # 9

2,350 - Words

Fandom - Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing - John Marston X Reader

Summary - Based entirely on Imagine # 662, which reads. imagine taking it upon yourself to teach John how to swim.

Warnings - Light smut, its just a handjob. (Cause I'm a horny bitch, especially when it come to Mr. John Marston.)

----

Looking to her left (Y/n) began snickering quietly when she noticed John snacking away on candy. "What?" John cocked a confused brow at her, still munching away. "You and your candy." (Y/n) shook her head with a grin. "What, I like 'em." John frowned, hesitating his chewing. "Oh nothing, I think it's sweet." (Y/n) joked making John roll his eyes playfully. "Ya got any to spare for your favorite girl?" (Y/n) hummed as she rode beside him, batting her lashes. "Oh I don't give Grace candy." John retorted as he pat his horses mane, his words making (Y/n) huff with a frown. "I see how it is." (Y/n) crossed her arms, spurring her horse into a trot. "Now hold on darling." John called out spurring on his own horse. "I was only playin' sugar." John nudged her shoulder, holding out a few pieces of candy. "And here I am, going out of my way to help you. And what do I get in return, the nerve of some people." (Y/n) sassed turning her nose up at his offer, a fit of giggles erupting from her when John practically pulled her onto his lap, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry darlin'." John whispered into her hair as he nuzzled into her neck. "Oh alright, I forgive you." (Y/n) sighed playfully, adjusting herself back onto her horse, afterwards leaning over to plant a kiss on John's scared cheek. "Here sugar." John hummed as he grasped her hand, pushing a few pieces of candy into the palm of her hand. "Awe thanks honey." (Y/n) cooed making John chuckle at her, smiling contently as they continued their journey.

--

A few hours had passed and the sun was beginning to set. "We're almost there, but the path isn't the safest to travel at night, we should set up camp then continue in the morning." (Y/n) suggested. "Alright." John agreed with a nod of his head. "Where you wanting to set up?" John asked as they trotted across a bridge. "There's a clearing up ahead, looks like a good a spot as any." (Y/n) pointed to the clearing in the distance. "Sounds like a plan." John agreed as they neared the sight. "Where is it your wanting to go tomorrow?" John asked with curiosity. "Dodds bluff just south of widows Rock, there's an abandoned shack we can set up in." (Y/n) answered his question. "Why there?" John asked with curiosity. "Several reasons, one because the water up there is beautiful, and always a comfortable temperature in the summer, plus we're far away from our friends, so you don't have to worry about them teasing us." (Y/n) explained as they moved from the road to the grass to find the best spot to set up camp. "What exactly are we doing, that they would tease us about?" John eyed his girlfriend wearily. "I'm gonna teach you how to swim finally." (Y/n) stated as she dismounted, her words causing John to freeze up. "Swim?" He muttered in worry. "Yes John, swim." (Y/n) laughed softly as she unpacked her things. "I-I um..." John stammered nervously. "John sweetie, we'll take it slow I promise." (Y/n) assured him as she approached his side, resting a reassuring hand onto his knee. John smiled softly, his heart melting. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me." John whispered softly, his confession making (Y/n) blush under his tender gaze.

--

"So darling, how long you plannin' on us staying out here?" John asked as they sat up the camp, one tent for them, and the other to keep their supplies dry if it rains in the night. "However long it takes until your able to swim on your own confidently." (Y/n) hummed as she moved on to feed the horses some grain. "That could take awhile." John chuckled nervously. "That's okay, I let Arthur and Dutch know we wouldn't be back for awhile." (Y/n) shrugged casually. "How'd you manage that?" John asked as he finished up the last of the work. "I found a few gold bars while out exploring, and I donated two of them." (Y/n) hummed as she brushed her horse, John joining her to brush his own horse. "How many did you find?" John asked with astonishment, both surprised and impressed that she found any gold bars to begin with. "Four." (Y/n) smiled at him, a certain gleam in her eyes. "And what are you planning on doing with the other two?" John asked with a curious gaze. "Well someone real special has a birthday coming up." (Y/n) mused with a playful grin, making John feel all giddy inside like a little kid. "Darlin' you're just to much sometimes." John shook his head with a smile, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "You love me for it." (Y/n) shrugged, gasping when John hugged her from behind. "I love you for more than that baby girl." John cooed as he nuzzled into her soft hair, inhaling her natural scent.

--

When morning came around (Y/n) was practically bouncing with excitement, while John sluggishly followed after her. Having broke down camp and packed up, the couple continued their journey. The small road they took seep and narrow in some spots, making John understand why they didn't risk riding on last night. "There's the shack." (Y/n) pointed to the little shanty, a wide smile upon her pretty face. "The water looks kinda fast." John pointed out as they neared the small building. "It's slower upstream." (Y/n) hummed as she dismounted her horse. "If you say so." John murmured skeptically. "Are you sure no one lives here?" He added as he dismounted. "Yeah I've come up here a hundred times, no one's ever here." (Y/n) shrugged while unpacking their supplies. John wasn't convinced however and removed his bolt action rifle from his saddle, approaching the house first. "Let me just check first." John explained when (Y/n) eyed him funny. "Oh alright." She smiled up at him before he turned his attention to the door, which he pushed open slowly with his rifle. Humming with satisfaction John turned back to (Y/n), shouldering his rifle. "You were right, it's abandoned." He walked down the steps of the porch, taking the supplies from (Y/n)'s hands to take inside. "I would say I'm always right, but you've proven me wrong plenty of times." (Y/n) laughed as they continued their work, her words making John chuckle. "Oh you mean like that time you thought you wouldn't like it when I stick my-" (Y/n) threw an apple at him, cutting him off. "Yes John, like then." She sassed with pinkness in her cheeks, making John laugh a hardy laugh. "You walked funny for three days, but not once did you complain." He teased with a grin, making (Y/n) whine as she hid her face in her hands. "Can we please stay on task here?" She groaned between her fingers, making John beam with pride. "Sure thing sugar." He mused into her ear, relishing in the sight of her shuddering from his voice alone.

--

After everything was dealt with, and the horses tended to (Y/n) led John a little ways upstream. "Are you sure about this?" John asked as they began stripping out of the majority of their clothes. "What of someone sees us?" He added with a nervous glance. "We're far from the main road, and people don't really use this road. We'll be fine, and even if someone sees, it doesn't matter. What we're doing is none of their business." (Y/n) assured her lover, pecking his lips to comfort him. "Hey I want a real kiss." John pouted as he followed after (Y/n), who was now hip deep in water, having gone into the small stream that connects into to river. "Then come get it cowboy." (Y/n) teased as John stood on the back, having an internal debate. Gathering his courage he made up his mind, and began walking into the shallow stream. "The things I do for love." John huffed when he reached (Y/n), his hands instinctively resting on her hips. "I've got you baby." (Y/n) hummed before connecting their lips, the sweet feeling of her lips against his detracting him from his fear of the water. John's grip tightened when she began walking backwards into deeper water, their lips still connected in a passionate kiss. "Wait." John broke the kiss with a strained voice, looking at the water beyond her shoulder. "Hey John look at me." (Y/n) grasped his face between her hands, turning his attention solely to her. "Do you trust me?" She asked as she peered into his dark eyes. "Of course I trust you, I trust you with my life." John proclaimed with a series tone, knowing she'd never hurt him or betray his trust. "Follow me, and stay focused on me, I'll keep you safe." (Y/n) smiled softly, slowly walking back towards the river. John nodded his head, his grasp on her hips still tight as he followed her obediently. His breath came out shaky as he breathed through his mouth, his eyes still locked onto (Y/n)'s. With each careful step they moved deeper and deeper into the water, until the water rest now at chest height. "How you doing John?" (Y/n) asked as she stroked his hair back, smiling at him reassuringly. "I'm alright, just need a moment." He admitted his hands noticeably shaking against her hips. "Take all the time you need baby." (Y/n) cooed as she leaned forward, catching his lips to distract his mind.

When they broke for air John had relaxed quite a bit, now ignoring the sounds of rushing water, he focused solely on the woman before him. "I love you." He murmured softly, so touched that she wanted to take the time to teach him how to swim, something no one else had ever tried. "I love you too John." (Y/n) leaned into his chest, resting her head into the crook of his neck. They stood their in a relaxed tranquil state in the water, allowing John the time he needed to truly relax. "Let's keep going." He suggested softly. "How about we stay here, so you know you can stand up if you begin to panic." (Y/n) countered his suggestion, slowly lowering herself into the cool water until she was on her knees. "Okay." John muttered to himself as he followed suit, slowly lowering himself. "You're doing good." (Y/n) praised when he finally sank down before her, the water now up to his neck. "I'm terrified." John admitted with a shaky voice, wrapping his arms around (Y/n)'s hips now. "Relax sugar, I'm here." (Y/n) hummed as she rubbed his back soothingly, smiling when his back muscles relaxed under her touch. "You know I might just have to reward you for doing so good." (Y/n) mused with a suggestive tone, her words causing John's breath to hitch in his throat. "R-really?" He stammered with surprise, his excitement building in an instant at the lewd thoughts popping into his head. "Yeah." (Y/n) hummed softly, one hand slowly drifting under the water, and down his body. "(Y/n)." John murmured quietly, his cock hardening as her fingers brushed against it. "All for me?" (Y/n) smirked before slipping her hand into his underwear, grasping his manhood by the base, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "All for you." John nodded his head in agreement, his hips thrusting forward, desperate for more friction.

(Y/n) giggled softly as she began stroking his length, rubbing her thumb against the underside of his cock firmly, from time to time. John's mind went hazy with pleasure, his eyes closing as he rest his forehead against (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Just relax baby, I'll take care of you. Make you feel good." (Y/n) cooed and then began peppering his face and neck with kisses. "So good." John praised quietly, unaware of his surroundings anymore. (Y/n) twisted her wrist while brushing her fingers across the tip of John dick, causing a shutter to run down his back. John hissed in pleasure his cock throbbing with need, twitching a little as he neared his end. "Cum for me honey." (Y/n) encouraged picking up her pace, the erratic movements of her arm, made the water slosh around them. "(Y-Y/n)!" John stammered in a moan, ropes of cum spurting from his cock as he came undone for her. "Good job baby." (Y/n) praised her lover, still stroking his cock slowly, working him through his euphoric high. "(Y/n)." John murmured her name, pecking sloppy kisses against her neck. "John my sweet sweet John." She cooed tilting his head up to look into his eyes. "You didn't even notice." She added with a playful smile, her words causing John to take in his surroundings. His heart froze for a moment when he realized they were now much deeper in the river, his feet just barely able to touch the bottom. "See John, swimming ain't so bad." (Y/n) brushed his hair back softly, smiling at him warmly when he noticeably calmed. "Y-yeah I guess you're right." John smiled remaining relaxed when (Y/n) moved back a little, allowing him to float on his own. "It's kinda fun actually." John chuckled as he got the hang of swimming in place. "It is." (Y/n) agreed with pure joy, beyond happy to have taught John Marston how to swim. The couple spent the next three days swimming, and the next four nights making sweet love under the stars, and within the privacy of the little shack. Only leaving when John felt comfortable with swimming. The pair of them worn by the time they got back to camp, Arthur watching them excuse themselves straight to bed with a knowing smile.

#short story #extended #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redeption #Red dead #rdr #rdr2 #rdr imagine #rdr2 inagine #rdr2 fanfic #Red dead redemption fanfic #red dead fanfic #Red dead redemption x reader #john marston #John Marston imagine #John Marston x reader #John Marston fanfic #John Marston smut #smut #rdr smut #Red dead redemption smut #Red dead smut #video game #video game imagine #imagine #picture imagine #picture grid #rdr2 smut #Red dead redemption 2 smut #Red dead redemption 2 x reader

[arvinsescape]

Too busy.

A/N: I am so sorry this took a while to get out, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy, it is based off a request that @tomhollandlol sent me and I hope you also enjoy and thanks again for your patience. I did change a couple of things but stuck to the basic concept, I hope you don’t mind 💕

Request: Angst one shot, they have 2 kids together, different scenarios, he never pays attention and does something else and is always too busy.

Warnings: Bit of swearing, mentions of sex.

W/C: 4.2K

This last six months had been the hardest she’d ever had to go through, in her entire six years of marriage to Tom, this had been the hardest. Having two kids on top of that didn’t make it any easier, she felt alone, more alone than she had in her life, she was bringing up two children, seemingly on her own. Their eldest was almost four and their youngest was nine months old and teething, which meant she cried a lot.

Tom had been there for most of their journey, he shared the work load and it made life easier but this last six months haven’t ben the case. He became busier, he had two projects going at once and whilst she would happily make allowances for his career it was becoming too much for her. She hated the assumption that things should be easy because she was a stay-at-home mum but that was far from the truth. The children were so young that they needed her constant and undivided attention.

She was struggling to give two children her undivided attention and recently she’s become run down, completely running of fumes. She lives her life in a constant state of tired, she barely does a thing for herself, hell even a shower seemed like a hard task half of the time and Tom? Well half of the time she wasn’t a hundred per cent sure exactly what it was he was doing. She wondered how he hadn’t noticed, how he hadn’t seen the tiredness she constantly displayed.

Half of the mums at school had noticed, she saw it in their looks of pity when she arrived with her son, looking run down and disheveled because she couldn’t make herself look presentable. She didn’t have the time because either her baby would need something or her four-year-old which left no time for herself in a morning.

“Tom?” She shouted as she bounced Ava on her hip.

“Yeah?” He shouted back from where ever he was in the house.

“Can I get your help please?”

“Y/N, I’m busy.”

“You’re always busy.” She muttered to herself as she gave up and tried to soothe Ava on her own whilst making Noah’s lunch.

**

“Tom, I’ve just cleaned there.” She spoke, almost in disbelief as she watched her husband place his golf clubs in the middle of the hall.

“I’ll move them in a bit.” He shrugged. “I need to read over some stuff.” He said as he wandered down the hall and into his office. She couldn’t help herself as she flipped him off on his way, thankful he couldn’t see.

**

“Tom? Is there any chance you can take Noah to school tomorrow? I need to take Ava to an appointment and I don’t wanna be late again.”

“I can’t darling, I’m busy.” He answered, eyes on his laptop.

“Tom, please? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” She tried and Tom looked up at her.

“Y/N/N, I am really busy right now. Just take Noah into school earlier and then you won’t be late.” He said and she looked at him in disbelief.

“Right, yeah, okay.” She huffed and left his office, shutting the door with enough force to let him know she was upset with him.

**

“Daddy! Look what I did.” Noah screamed as he made his way through the door.

“I’ll have a look in a bit my love, I’m busy at the moment.” Tom answered and their son huffed in response.

**

“Daddy!” Noah shouted as he ran into his father’s open arms. “Can we go for ice-cream?” He asked excitedly.

“Ask mummy, I have some work to do.” Tom said and Noah visibly deflated.

“She already said no, she’s too tired.” Noah mocked his mother’s voice.

“Well I expect she is tired.” Tom said, they never bad mouthed each other in front of the children. It wasn’t something either of them did.

“Why? She doesn’t work.” Noah folded his arms over his chest and Tom looked at him in a scalding manner.

“That’s not nice. Your mummy works really hard to make sure everything and everyone is okay. Don’t talk about her like that.”

“But she doesn’t do anything. She looks after us, my friends mummy works and she’s fine. Everyone at school has said it, she has nothing to be tired about, that’s what my friend’s mummy’s say.” Noah huffed, he had a bit of a temper streak. Tom’s heart plummeted, where people really shit talking his wife? To the point his son had become subject to it.

“That’s enough now Noah.” Tom said as he set his son down.

“Whatever. You’re always too busy and mummy’s always too tired. You’re both boring.” He snapped before running into his bedroom and slamming the door. This made Tom’s heart shatter, they were both trying to do the right thing. Tom really contemplated his life choices and in hind sight he wished he’d done something sooner, especially with the conversation he was about to have that evening.

**

“Tom, you are never here.” She exclaimed, a small comment having sparked an argument that had her struggling to keep her voice down.

“I’m busy. Look in a couple of months I’ll be here.” He said and she huffed folding her arms over her chest.

“You’re always busy Tom. I can’t remember the last time you put us first.”

“I’m doing this so I can take some more time off, Y/N, I don’t wanna be that guy but I earn the money, I can’t just stop working.” He snapped and she felt her anger rise in response.

“That’s bullshit,” she hissed out and he was taken aback by her tone. “You were in some of the biggest movies going a few years back. We are not struggling for money, that is some bullshit excuse for the fact that you’re not around.” She hissed, voice laced in nothing but venom.

“Look, I have a week off starting tomorrow, I don’t need to be anywhere and I won’t have any responsibilities, I can help.” He offered and she sighed, anger leaving her with nothing but defeat.

“I hope so.” She shrugged and Tom looked at her carefully.

“What do you mean?” He asked, there was something in her tone that scared him.

“I mean,” she sighed. “I can’t keep doing this, I’m tired and I need more from you.” She didn’t sound angry just tired and Tom felt his heart drop.

“Meaning?” He asked tentatively.

“Meaning, I can’t carry on doing this and next time it’s going to be a very different conversation. A conversation about us that I really don’t want to have but it’s come to that.” She sighed out before turning on her heel and leaving Tom with his thoughts. His heart shattered, had he really been so neglectful?

Tom was free for a week, which helped slightly because their son was always itching to spend time with his father. She thought this would mean that she got a little respite after their conversation the previous night but that’s not how it panned out.

“Y/N?” Her husbands voice echoed through the halls and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his tone. She shouted back her location within the house and few seconds later he appeared. “I need you to look after Noah.” He said, their son hot on his heels, she furrowed her brows.

“Why?” She couldn’t help but asked and Tom gave her a sympathetic look.

“I need to get some of this work done and as much as I love him he’s distracting me.” Tom spoke and she couldn’t help but huff, it was always something.

“I thought you were off this week?” She couldn’t help but ask, tone clipped and she instantly regretted using it in front of Noah.

“I was but then my agent emailed this morning and I now have a load of work to do.” He said, there was a sadness laced in his tone but she didn’t care. She passed him feeling bad about it, she needed him to put them first and recently he hasn’t.

“Fine, whatever.” She grumbled out a response and Tom felt awful, he could see how tired she was, he wouldn’t deny that. But these two projects were taking over and he felt just as tired trying to keep up. To anyone else looking in they would have said the couple needed to sit down and have a chat but of course relationships are more complex than that and the couple were still waiting to have said chat.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” Tom spoke and she sighed.

“It’s whatever Tom. He has some schoolwork he should be doing anyway.” She said, tone defeated and Tom sighed before nodding and making his way back into his office. He wanted to say something but he was afraid to start an argument in front of the children, the two had agreed that their arguments would be kept private, the children didn’t need to know about them.

She spent the afternoon trying to split herself between helping Noah with his math’s work and Ava with her teething. Noah was a bright child when it came to English and Art but Math’s? He was no good at and required a lot of help. She found herself growing frustrated the more she went through the work, she felt guilty but she was so tired she couldn’t help it.

“No, Noah. I’ve shown you this now. Come on, you need to work with me.” She said and instantly regretted the words.

“Mummy, I am trying but I don’t get it.” Noah said back as Ava burst into another flood of tears. She jumped up from her seat, Noah making a noise of annoyance at her actions. She scooped Ava into her arms and rocked her, it was making no difference, the ache in the child’s gum causing ample discomfort.

“Ava come on, shh, it’s okay. Calm down.” She said as she hastily scanned the living room in search of her teething ring. Her eyes landing on the object and she hastily picked it up before handing it to her daughter. She placed the ring in her mouth and instantly her screams calmed to small cries. Once she was settled enough, Y/N placed her back in her high chair and proceeded to help Noah.

She was tired by the end of the evening, her only job being left was to put Noah to bed and he just wouldn’t settle either. He wasn’t great at bed times, he was an alert child who found it hard to switch off for the day.

“Mummy, can we please have another story?” He asked and she felt herself deflate, all she wanted was to have a bath and go to bed.

“But sweetheart, I’ve already read two.” She tried to reason and Noah threw his book onto the floor which made her sigh out as she retrieved it.

“Please mummy? I’m not even tired, can’t I just play with my toys?” He asked, arms folded across his chest and she wasn’t prepared for what was to come next, signs of his temper tantrum approaching and fast.

“No sweetheart, you have school tomorrow.” She sighed out and she watched as her sons face turned into a rather sour expression.

“So? I’m not tired. How can I sleep if I’m not tired? You’re supposed to read to me.” He said and she sighed.

“Baby, mummy’s tired herself okay.” She said, she really didn’t have it in her to stay awake much longer.

“Then get daddy to read to me.” He huffed and she nodded before standing up and making her way into her husbands office, a soft knock pulling him from his work.

“Come in.” Tom’s voice spoke, eyes still trained on his emails.

“Tom? Can you read to Noah please?” She asked, hopefulness lacing her voice, her husbands eyes finding her tired ones. There was something about the way she looked tonight, the way she looked like she was struggling to keep herself stood that reality hit the man hard.

“Of course baby.” Tom said as he stood and he didn’t miss the flash of shock grace his wife’s face. He felt immensely guilty, he hadn’t been there for past six months and he could see what that was doing to her. “Have you eaten?” Tom asked and she shrugged.

“Bits but I’m not hungry.” She said as she rubbed at her red and tired eyes. Tom felt like an utter dick, he’d taken on too much and left his wife to pick up the pieces.

“You should eat.” Tom said and she shrugged.

“I just want to go to bed Tom.” She whispered out and he nodded in response before making his way over to her and kissing her forehead before pulling her into a hug.

“Then go sleep love. I’ve got Noah.” He spoke and she felt relieved, completely and utterly relieved, she didn’t even want the bath anymore, that could wait until tomorrow. She didn’t miss the excitement in her sons voice as Tom made his way into his room and she smiled before practically face planting the bed and falling asleep.

**

It was eight o clock in the morning when she woke, she felt sluggish as she grabbed for her phone and looked at the time. Heart beat picking up far too quickly for her bodies tired state.

“Shit.” She exclaimed as she rushed out of bed and into Noah’s room, only to find the bed empty. “Noah?” She shouted as she ran down the stairs, her mind was racing, she was running late. How had she slept for so many hours? And how had it gone interrupted?

“In here mummy.” Noah shouted back as she raced into the living room.

“I’m sorry, I’m up, I just need to get changed and then we can set off for school.” She rambled as ran into the kitchen to sort out his breakfast.

“Darling, slow down.” She heard Tom’s voice and she spun around to look at her husband, he had bags under his eyes and his hair was a slight mess. How could he still look so good? She wished she could look as good as he did, even tired.

“What?” She looked around the kitchen, evidence that Noah had already had his breakfast. His school bag filled with the books for the day and his packed lunch.

“I’m gonna take him in. Go and chill out.” He spoke as he pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you.” She sighed and Tom nodded.

“I’ll take Ava and then you can get some rest if you need it, I’ll be back soon. I’ll do the shopping, should be an hour or so.” Tom spoke and her heart soared at his words.

“Did Ava sleep through?” She asked, realizing she’d not been woken up by her crying last night.

“Yeah, a few times. I slept in there, wanted you to catch up on some sleep.” He admitted and she could have cried with the happiness the revelation brought her. “We need to talk when I get home.” He spoke and she nodded. “Okay, well I’ll see you in an hour.” He said and she nodded before kissing her son good bye and making him promise to behave.

**

An hour and a half later and she’d had a relaxing bath, one that she was more than thankful and ready for. She’d even managed to have a hot cup of tea, a stark difference to the cold ones she was used to. She’d even managed to read a chapter of her new book, she still felt like she could sleep for a while but overall relaxed and content.

“Hey.” Tom said as he leant against the doorway to their bedroom. She placed her book down and looked at him.

“Hey,” she said somewhat awkwardly, she wasn’t sure how this conversation was about to go.

“I’ve just put Ava down, will probably give us a good hour or so.” He spoke and she nodded. “So,” he sighed. “We should talk.” He continued and she nodded again, words not being able to find her, she needed to know how he feeling, what he was going to say first.

“I’m sorry, I want you to know that. I’ve been so wrapped up in what I’ve been doing that I haven’t noticed what I was doing to you. I’m so used to you being the one who has everything together, who know exactly what to do that I thought you didn’t need my help as much as you do.” He started and she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out before he beat her to it.

“I know that’s not an excuse, it’s poor on my behalf and I’m sorry. You and the children, you mean everything to me. All I want in life is for you guys to get everything you want and need and I’m sorry that I’ve been the way that I have, there are no excuses.” He said and she felt her heart lift, the two could fix this, fix what has been happened. “But I need something from you.” He spoke and she furrowed her brows as she waited for him to continue.

“I need you to be honest, I need you to tell me what it’s been like to be you. I don’t want you to spare my feelings, I want you to let it all out. I’m listening now, darling, I need to know what this has done to you, how I can make it right.” He said and she nodded slightly before sitting up in bed properly, her back against the head board as she carefully played with her wedding ring. Tom sat carefully on the edge of the bed, he needed to hear what she was about to say.

“Tom, you’ve just not been here.” She started with her biggest problem. “Even when you are in the house it’s like you just expect me to do everything. You expect your clothes to be washed, dried and ironed, you expect your dinner on the table and I never used to mind. You would always say thank you but recently you haven’t and it made me wonder whether or not you just expect it of me, that it’s my job.” She started and Tom kept quiet, he wanted her to continue.

“Tom, you used to be so attentive.” She said as she reached over and took his hand in her own. “You always used to be here, know when I needed help without having to ask. I don’t mind doing all of those things for you, I really don’t but when you don’t get a thanks it feels a little like you’re being used.” She continued and his heart shattered, he would never intentionally use her, he loved her, loved his family.

“That brings me onto the kids, Tom they need so much attention. They want me to split myself in two half of the time and I can’t, it’s impossible. They both need so much from me and given Ava teething I don’t even get a full night’s sleep. I am constantly trying to run off energy that I just don’t have. It wasn’t so bad when Noah was a baby, we took shifts, you helped. Recently though Tom, it’s been me that gets up and tends to her, me that sacrifices sleep.”

“I know that might sound selfish but when you have a partner, a husband who’s supposed to help with all that it gets tiresome. I found myself getting so angry with you, I wanted to be you, I wanted to bury my head in paperwork and think of nothing else. There were days when I honestly wanted nothing to do with you, I didn’t want to be around you because everything little thing you did angered me.”

“I’ve been so tired, my mind is never where it should be. I’m always doing stupid things because I’m so tired. I never feel like I get anything back from you. I’m too tired to have an evening to myself when they have gone to sleep, I just want to sleep myself. I’m always running around after them, something you barely do anymore, sure you play with them but when was the last time you had to deal with one of Noah’s meltdowns?”

“I get that you have a lot on, I get that two projects keep you busy and if we didn’t have kids it wouldn’t affect me as much but we do and it does. I need you to be there for me Tom, I can’t keep doing this alone, I can’t.” She ended her rant and Tom felt awful, he was so angry with himself, she didn’t even sound angry anymore. She sounded like she’d accepted it and she was just tired with the situation, somehow he wishes she was screaming at him right now.

“I’m sorry princess. There are no words, no excuses for what I’ve done. I’m sorry I made you feel like that, it was never my intention. You mean the world to me, you and the kids. Things are gonna change, I promise.” Tom said, he knew now that actions spoke louder than words, it wasn’t what she wanted him to say it was what she wanted him to do.

“On top of all of that Tom, I can’t remember the last time we did anything as a couple. Most of the time I’m asleep when you get to bed, I can’t remember the last time we touched each other, it’s just draining. It all adds up.”

“I know darling. I promise things are gonna change. Why don’t you pick a film and I’ll be back in a minute?” He said and she nodded as she flicked the TV on and got herself comfortable in bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a day in bed. Tom returned almost ten minutes later and she wondered where he had gotten to.

“Where did you end up?” She asked as he made his way into the bedroom, two bottles of water in hand.

“Well, I grabbed these, I made sure Ava was still okay and the baby monitor is working properly and I had to send a couple of emails.��� He admitted and her heart dropped, after everything she’d just said? He took in her expression as he placed the water down and jumped into bed with her. “Not like that darling, I’ve passed one of my projects onto Harrison and Harry, they’re gonna finish it up.” He said and she relaxed. “I promised things will change and they will.”

**

“Daddy!” Noah shouted as he ran to his father, who was there at the school gate to pick him up, Y/N right there next to him. It had been a while since they both picked him up. Ava was a little more settled today which made things a little easier.

“How was school?” Tom asked enthusiastically and then almost cried when he realised how long it had been since he asked that question.

“Amazing!” Noah gushed as he looked at his mother. “Mummy, you look so pretty.” He spoke and she laughed.

“She always looks pretty.” Tom defended her and Noah nodded.

“Yeah, but she looks extra pretty today.” Noah said. It had been a while since she was able to put effort into her appearance and she felt better for doing it. Even if it was only a nicely picked out outfit and tamed hair. “Can we go for ice cream?”

“You my boy have an obsession.” Tom laughed as he poked his son playfully. “But yeah, I think that’ll be a good idea.” Tom said as he looked to his wife who nodded in response. She didn’t miss the looks of jealousy thrown her way when they saw her with Tom.

“So what did you do this afternoon?” Noah asked his parents as he was being strapped into the back of the car.

“We watched a film.” Tom stated, it was an absolute lie, they’d gotten half an hour into the film before Tom had his head between his wife’s legs. It had been a while since they’d done anything like that and when they both realised that fact. When they both realised how long it had truly been since they’d done anything, they spent most of the afternoon catching up with each other’s bodies. In between tending to their baby of course, they both felt energized after their endeavors between the sheets.

“Was it good?”

“Absolutely amazing.” Y/N answered as Tom slipped into the driver’s seat, she took his hand in hers as she held it in her lap.

“Can we watch another film when we get home?” Noah asked excitedly.

“Sure, how about we go and spend the afternoon doing something fun and then we can go out for tea, go home and watch a film?” Tom suggested and Noah fist bumped the air.

“Yes! Does this mean you two aren’t going to be boring now?” Noah asked and Y/N and Tom found themselves laughing.

“Yes, this means we aren’t going to be boring anymore.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland one shot #tom holland x female reader

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

FOR GCN’S ❝ 23 | JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY PROJECT ❞ ! Alien AU | “I want to have your last name!” | “I like when you do that, it makes me crazy.”

summary; Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.  warnings; smut in the forms of cunnilingus, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, anal, tit play, and all that jazz bc surprise its tentacle porn rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous; FLUFF, strangers to friends to lovers, curious alien kook, there’s a saber tooth tiger mention, virginity is a social construct, they both have skewed perceptions of sex and love, and idk what else word count; 17.8k

notes; someone said once “all u ever do is write college aus 😃” and i was like lol true but i was also a virgo and was like “i’ll prove u wrong” and next thing i knew i was writing a 17k alien au clap for me lads

special thanks to; my savior and editor rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who very politely tells me when im making up words n also when shit doesn't make sense but lets me make stupid final decisions that will come back to bite me in the ass<3 and also my gf yeji @suqakoo​ who watched me crash and burn about ten times while writing this monstrosity of  fic and just laughed her support amazes me<3

BEFORE READING SEE HERE; body marks, under eye marks, sixam that i stole from the sims 4 

He comes with the sole purpose of populating this uncharted territory with his seed. 

Jungkook has been on many missions abroad. He’s visited about every planet in Sector 76 before this, the largest collection of neighboring galaxies known to exist. And because of that, he likes to think he’s well educated in extraterrestrial affairs, quite knowledgeable in the barbaric ways of the foreigners. They see, they mate. Pretty simple. 

For the past couple years, as leading field researcher of Sixam, Jungkook has been exclusively studying every creature he comes across. He enjoys cataloging their habits, their mating cycles, and the unique culture they develop, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. 

Granted, he’s never been on a mission like this. 

This type of mission has never been his. 

When the great planet of Sixam wishes to settle colonies of new species— Sixamian bred with whatever other species that have deemed suitable —they usually task people like Namjoon or Seokjin, both high ranking generals of the Sixamian Intergalactic Corp. with a near immaculate genetic makeup. Their genotypes carry strong traits, and are oftentimes most reflected in their phenotypes as well. Beings like Namjoon or Jin are the epitome of what it means to be Sixamian, which is why Jungkook is surprised when they ask him to place his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7 of the Via Láctea solar system, otherwise known as ‘Earth.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook had major self image issues, nor did he think he was particularly bad to look at. In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s pretty amazing. Of course he doesn’t compare to Namjoon or Jin, but quite frankly, the comparison is skewed by the fact he works in a different field than them. You cannot compare black holes to asteroid belts; in a similar fashion, you cannot compare military generals to scientific researchers. 

Anyway, Jungkook has never been to Planet 43 Z-7, but some of his coworkers have. They all claim it is a beautiful place, filled to the brim with life and culture never before seen. 

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

He’s seen hundreds of planets, thousands of species, so he hardly feels amazed anymore. There is nothing enjoyable about other planets when he comes from Sixam, quite possibly the most intellectually advanced one in the universe. And he says this having met Yoongi of Planet 732 T-1, another being near immaculate in terms of cognitive abilities.

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

Hoseok says Planet 43 Z-7 has all sorts of unique artifacts, like these edible arrangements called ‘hot dogs’ you eat between two pieces of raised yeast. Planet 43 Z-7 has been unmarked for eons now, but is a popular hideout for rebelling Sixamians during their early years. Jungkook was never one of those types, but he has a handful of friends who were. 

Needless to say, Jungkook isn’t looking forward to his mission. He asks Namjoon and Jin for tips on how to approach the reproductive members in the species, if there’s any protocol he needs to follow, but they simply laugh it off. They’ve both had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe, so Jungkook’s incompetence must be a sight to see. 

Airship handler Jimin is the last face he sees on Sixam. He’s as relaxed as ever, strapping Jungkook into his travel pod like this is just another one of his research trips and not his first ever population operation. He pats his shoulder once, tells him to bring him back something called a ‘Nintendo DS’ that his partner Taehyung has been begging for since the last time they went to Planet 43 Z-7, but Jungkook has no idea what that is. 

And then he’s off. 

Jungkook has long since grown comfortable with the emptiness of space, a desolate feeling that oddly made him feel at home. But, as he hurtles towards his destination, there’s a newfound sense of anxiety that consumes him at the thought of this unknown planet— this ‘Earth’ that his fellow Sixamian friends speak so highly about. 

He lands in a field. Well, ‘lands’ is a bit of a stretch; his pod comes to a stop a few feet above Planet 43 Z-7’s surface, hovering over the natural flora that seems to grow in abundance in this part of the planet. It’s… dirty, compared to the sleek skyscrapers and glowing structures of Sixam. 

He steps out tentatively, the vegetation crunching beneath the boots of his skintight spacesuit. The folks back at Sixam had told him that whatever the residents of this planet breathed in was compatible with Sixamians, but he still hesitates to click off his helmet. 

The planet is quiet, save for the quiet chirping of some creature underground. The AI on his helmet pulls up the information before his very eyes, the advanced technology quickly tapping into wherever it was these beings stored their information. A mole cricket, he reads, first documented by a researcher about two hundred human years back. Very annoying. 

His pod seals itself shut again, presumably heading back into orbit until Jungkook calls for it again. With it gone, he’s faced with the vast nothingness of Planet 43 Z-7, just grass and trees with very few things in between. He’s beginning to suspect Jimin might have sent him to the wrong coordinates, a void space on the planet with nothing but vegetation for miles. 

Part of him is frustrated, beyond annoyed that he cannot even complete the one thing he came to do if there is no being in sight. But another part, the part of him that had been nervous to even accept this mission, feels grateful. Well, there was no use complaining about it now, he thinks. He pulls up his virtual journal, ready to catalogue every bit of vegetation he can set his eyes on. 

After a while, his helmet becomes stuffy, the digital screen that plays over the glass piece fogging up with his breath. So Jungkook takes his chances and clicks it off, the sudden wash of oxygen filling his lungs quickly. It’s fresh and moist? It smells like his laboratories back on Sixam, the ones that took years of countless trips around the universe and meticulous gardening to cultivate. Yet here on Planet 43 Z-7, this type of phenomenon is common, and apparently, ignored by its residents. 

One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, he supposes. 

He’s scanning a peculiar organism, reddish and dome-shaped, when he hears the first crack of a twig. Immediately, his defenses rise. Jungkook was by no means a skilled warrior, but most Sixamians fared better than other creatures in the universe. Save for the few barbarian, primitive species they’ve encountered, 9/10 times any wild encounter was in their favor. 

His eyes scan over the perimeter of the field, scanning, scanning, scanning— until he spots two, huge, glowing yellow eyes from distance. His eyes widen, flicking on the retractable blaster from his wrist and pointing it at the creature. 

It’s bigger than him, with eyes that look over only a short distance before gradually dying down. He wonders if that’s the scope of its field of vision, crouching down along the vegetation. He creeps closer, rounds the bright beams until he can see the creature’s side, an oddly shaped thing, almost like a shell. It has wheels, he realizes, mentally jotting down the fact this species is advanced enough to develop such technology on their own. 

Right as he’s beginning to lower his wrist, deciding this metal creature posed no threat from its lack of movement, something smaller moves around it, carrying a compact version of those glowing eyes. 

Jungkook panics, wildly clicking through the modes on his wrists. He jumps from his blaster to the thermal detector, and the smaller creature that moves around the metal beast has a heat signature he’s never seen before, warmth that begins at its core but doesn’t drop drastically as it fans out. And then he’s switching to his electroscope and is startled to see that the smaller creature even carries an electric charge beneath its outer membrane. 

This is terrifying, he thinks to himself, wondering why his friends back home had decided to trick him into believing Planet 43 Z-7 was remotely safe. 

Before Jungkook can act rashly and accidentally kill that terrifying creature, he’s blindly stepping into a hole in the ground, a dip in the field. An uncontrollable yelp tears itself from his throat at the roll of his ankle. 

Immediately, the yellow eye is upon him, flickering over his kneeling form in the vegetation. Jungkook freezes, caught in the all-seeing rays of the yellow eye. He wonders if this is the end, the end of an undoubtedly legendary run, as the creature slowly approaches. 

Its figure is shrouded, the blinding eye turning them into just a silhouette that closes in on Jungkook fairly quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he never stepped out of his pod, when the beam flickers off. 

“Hello?” a hesitant voice calls out, and then he’s met with you. 

You had always believed holding out until marriage would come as an advantage. You played it safe your entire life, always did what you were told. You had grown up in a relatively traditional household, always following the rules like a good kid. Your parents said no dating until seventeen? You waited until seventeen. Your health classes in school said practice abstinence? You practiced abstinence. 

Following the rules was what got you into a prestigious university. Following the rules is what got you your first, quite admirable, job. Following the rules is what had gotten you into your first serious relationship with your boyfriend, who became your fiancé, who would become the man to cheat on you three nights before your wedding. 

Being a virgin— that symbol of purity —was supposed to make you desirable to men, you thought. It was supposed to protect you from bad experiences, keep you perfectly polished until the time came. You had many a friend who had engaged in sex at a young age, experienced mind blowing sex that would never be topped, even by their own future husbands. You had saved yourself from disappointment by saving yourself in general. 

Except that concept, that meticulously followed tradition, was what ultimately drove your fiancé away.

Three days. 

Three days before you would marry and lose that treasured thing you had been carrying around for the past twenty-five years, flushed clean down the drain all because he couldn’t wait any longer. He had managed four years with you, four memorable years where he had religiously told you he loved you every chance he got, regardless of your lack of sex life. Just to blow it for some barely legal chick at a bar. 

Needless to say, you were done. Absolutely finished with him and your friends who claimed they “weren’t surprised” only after the fact, or your parents who had urged you to try again. You were done with this saving and waiting all for a man who ultimately did you dirty. You needed to get away from it all, and the only way to do that was to leave the city all together. 

Your parents were uncomfortable with the idea. They said it was too brash a decision to give up after one try. But your whole future had been riding on this one try, and to have it completely ripped away from you crushed not only your hope but your pride. 

On the other hand, your grandmother and her lifelong experiences with men understood you just perfectly. She was old, living in a retirement home near your parents’ home in one of your city’s many suburbs. There was a house out in the countryside, about a two-hour drive from the city. She had grown up there, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, she simply couldn’t bring herself to sell it off. So she gave it to you. 

It was a cute little thing, a stereotypical farmhouse surrounded by miles and miles of nothingness. Well, your neighbors were about half a mile off on either side, but who was walking half a mile for a cup of sugar? No one. 

You loved it. 

It was peace and quiet, long days of focusing on yourself and your tiny garden outback. There was no societal pressure to act right, or forced ideologies to make yourself the ‘perfect woman.’ It was just you and a stray cat that visited now and then, spending day after day reading and writing, working from home. 

The trips into the city were far and few between. There was a general store close to your house, nestled into a quaint little town you visited every so often. And the mailmen still had to make their stops through here, so everything was practically at your fingertips. The only thing you had to do in the city was drop by the main branch office of your job. Your work had mostly been over a computer before, so moving to work at home was rather easy. However, there was still the occasional board meeting to sit through. 

So here you were, three months into your new living situation and on your way back home from the city. The evening sun is beating down hot on your yellow Beetle. You were in desperate need for a check up, but you kept pushing it off and telling yourself tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seems tomorrow should have been today, because by the time the sun is setting, home is still another thirty minutes away and the temperature gauge is climbing to unhealthy levels. 

The Beetle pushes for another two minutes before wheezing to a stop in the middle of nowhere, your angry slaps against the dashboard doing nothing to revive it. With a muttered curse, you switch the car off. The front lights remain on even as you round the dead car, angrily kicking the tire with your heel. It doesn’t budge. 

You sigh, sinking down to your knees beside the opened door you came out of. The nearest mechanic was still a forty minutes’ drive from here, and you doubt anyone is still open. The con of small towns is that most of the businesses close after sunset. One glance at your phone lets you know it’s way too late to call anyone for help. You contemplate just walking to your house, but it’s dark and far, and your heels were only meant to be worn for an hour or two during your meeting. Not for an entire transcontinental trek back home. 

Sighing, you decide your best bet is tinkering around yourself. You weren’t a total idiot, so you hope whatever is wrong with your car is something you can fix on your own. You shoot back up to your feet, patting the blood back into your face as you round the car. 

There’s nothing but you and the Beetle for miles on end— or so you think. 

Just as you flicker your flashlight over the expanse of grass, there’s a startled shout that scares the living daylights out of you, flashlight fumbling in your hand in your haste to see what it was. 

Great, so not only were you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your heels to carry you to safety, but now there was also a man out there, hiding in the tall grass like a voyeur. 

It’s a terrible idea, but you approach him anyway. There’s a huddled figure, a gleam of a bizarre outfit that has you shaking in your heels as you step closer to the edge of the road. And when you finally get close enough, the light shining over their figure, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking at. 

“Hello?” you call out, and are met with the most violet eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

To begin with, you carry an electrical charge at your fingertips but are unable to revive your rickety metal ride with said touch. It is undoubtedly a trait he does not remember cataloguing in any other species before yours; it might rival the Sixamians’ aura sensing abilities, the little triangular markings beneath their eyes that allowed them to alter another’s emotions. Electricity beneath surface, he mentally notes for the nth time that night. 

The inside of your vehicle is disgustingly mediocre, a mixture of old clogs and pipes he’s only seen in ancient Sixamian textbooks. Still, they’re devastatingly easy to figure out. One simple twist of a lid later and your car is revving back to life. You squeal and clap, clacking around on the frankly terrifying footwear you call heels that are practically knives as stilts. 

Amazing, you cry, moving like a mini tornado around him. You don’t seem the least bit phased by his appearance, despite the initial shock you’d gotten when you first made eye contact. Actually, Jungkook thinks you might be the quickest extraterrestrial being to accept his existence as fact. He has to wonder what exactly goes on here that has these Humans, as Jimin has called them, so desensitized to the appearance of otherworldly figures such as himself. 

You invite him into your moving death trap, not the least bit concerned with the chest piece of armor he removes and tosses into the seats behind him. Jungkook has been in a lot of near death situations, and somehow your manner of driving this metal box marks high on the list. 

“My home,” you tell him when you finally pull up to a tiny shack of a house. It’s about the same size as his personal lab back on Sixam, so he wonders just which one of you is being deluded by the size. The car engine shuts off with a practiced flick of your wrist, and then you’re making your way up the front steps without sparing him a glance. 

“Lovely,” he says at the entrance. He moves to travel deeper inside, but you warn him to remove his shoes. He does, hesitantly, bare feet padding along the wooden floors behind you. “Forgive me,” he apologizes, watching you bumble around a small space with a standing cooler and heat box. “I haven’t asked your name.”

You hum, tugging out two cups from a hanging cabinet. You fill them with a white substance, followed by a light brown powder that almost makes you sneeze, before shoving them into the heat box that begins suspiciously counting down. “__ ___,” you offer. 

Jungkook frowns. “You have two names?” he asks skeptically. In Sixam, rarely anyone had two names. “Are you a government official?” 

You laugh. “No, but I do work for an office. I have one name, and then my last name,” you explain. 

This only perplexes him more. “A last name?” he repeats. “What is the purpose of this last name?” 

You shrug, and the heat box beeps loudly. Jungkook twitches, ready to aim his blaster once more but you calm the beeping box with a gentle click that has the front opening, the most heavenly scent wafting into his nostrils. Oh Jungkook definitely needed to take that back. Much to his surprise, you hand him one of the handled cups, the sweet smell making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Well,” you say, seemingly unaware of the way you just changed Jungkook’s entire life. “I have my name, and then I have my family’s name. Like, to show we’re in the same group, kinda,” you explain. “And it also helps sort of differentiate you from other people with the same first name.” You settle down on a seat in front of the counter, carefully blowing across the liquid contents of the mug. Jungkook doesn’t get why until he tries to take a sip and the liquid scalds his tongue. You laugh. “Gotta cool it down, silly.” 

He feels silly. In fact, he feels beyond embarrassed that someone who is not a Sixamian is looking at him with the same eyes you look at an infant with. He has a strong need to reinforce his superiority over you. 

“Well I am Jungkook,” he announces proudly. “Jungkook of Sixam. The only Jungkook of Sixam, because we do not believe in sharing something as intimate as our names with another,” he huffs. You scoff, a genuine look of amusement crossing your features that Jungkook simply does not understand. 

It’s with a practiced grace that you set your cup down on the counter, face coming to a rest in in the palm of your hand as you watch him talk over himself about the intricacies of Sixamian names, and how each one is carefully selected at one’s first celebration to honor the first long year of life they overcame. That look on your face, that disgustingly entertained expression does not melt away, even when Jungkook hastily calls your people imbeciles to your face. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, staring deep into the contents of your hot cocoa, as you had called it when offering him a second cup, as if you don’t seem to disagree in the slightest. “Humans are like that. 

There’s a quality to your voice, a rather melancholy tone that curls around your words that stops Jungkook’s tirade against your race for a moment. There’s a look in your eyes, hollow and alone, that he cannot place. He wonders if it’s from past experiences or from a shared Human trauma. Either way, he does not understand. 

It’s with a shake of your head that you look up at him again, sweet smile back on your features. “Humans are selfish creatures, Jungkook,” you say. 

He is not sure if he believes you. 

Jungkook has traveled to many parts of the universe, has visited places your tiny Human brain may never comprehend. Yet he has not always received this treatment. There have been missions where he has been picked on and abused for his curiosity, rudely ejected back into the vast emptiness of space just because he wanted to know more, learn more. Not every planet welcomes him with a soft smile and a warm place to stay. 

Despite the initial unimpressed confusion he felt upon entering Planet 43 Z-7, there is something about the quirk of your lips and gentle tapping of your fingers that intrigues him. 

Huh, he thinks, subconsciously cataloguing your mannerisms in his head. He will write about this later. 

You let Jungkook sleep in your quarters, a small area with a mattress that he sinks into with delight. There’s a change of clothing you set out on the edge of the bed, a rather shabby set that matches yours. He is reluctant to peel away his bodysuit, even more so when he realizes he is standing naked on a foreign planet with a very strange creature clattering around downstairs. He hurries into the clothes. 

You peek your head into the room later on, carefully flicking off the lights as he settles onto the mattress. Jungkook is beyond tired, body fatigued from hurtling thousands of light years through space in such a short amount of time. The abundance of breathable oxygen is still something his body has to grow accustomed to. Your voice is soft as you whisper out a goodnight farewell that he can only sleepily mumble back. 

Jungkook is quite literally the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. Well, person is a stretch considering you’re not entirely sure what he is, or where he’s from. When you found him, sadly crouched in the middle of nowhere, you wanted to convince yourself he was some random college boy lost on his way to a costume convention. But he’s not. His big purple irises are oddly bright, practically luminescent, and that’s definitely not something one could achieve through stage makeup. And he’s not a college student either, despite how youthful he looks, but a foreign being at least three times your age. 

Or so he says. 

Honestly, you’re torn between wanting to write him off a nutjob or believing he is this highly intelligent extraterrestrial being. In the case he is the latter, you find it odd that of all the planets in your solar system— a whopping eight, maybe nine —he chose crappy old Earth to visit. 

Jungkook moves like a fine tuned instrument, graceful limbs wandering around your home and backyard the next morning. His little head piece, a unique accessory that wraps around the base of his skull like a microphone headset or something, seems to keep him in constant communication with his fellow brethren so long as he wears it. So he wears it all the time. 

Still, you’re able to differentiate between his messages back home and his mindless mumbles. Those usually happen more often than not, soft muttering as he inspects your garden, vivid descriptions of the plainest things like an onion. 

“Lemonade’s ready,” you call, stepping into your backyard. Jungkook peers over your rosemaries like a bunny, wide eyes scanning the pitcher you set out on your back porch’s table. Carefully, he steps around your meticulous rows of vegetables. He’s wearing the clothes you lent him last night, a pair of shorts and a shirt your brother had left when he visited a few weeks ago. They fit him nicely, shorts just shy of his knees. 

“This is lemond-aid?” he asks quizzically, tentative hands reaching for the quickly perspiring glass. He has unique markings that begin at his hands, twisting and curling carefully around his arms. They’re gold in the sunlight, contrasting softly against his relatively peachy skin. There’s a matching set on his knees that wrap over and around his thighs, beneath his shorts. He looks every bit the celestial being, yet here he is marveling over the lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. 

“Lemonade,” you correct, sitting down on your rocking chair. Your floppy sun hat protects you from the brutal rays of the sun, practically scorching in this summer heat. It reminds you of the honeymoon you were supposed to take a few months back. You stomp out the memory. 

Jungkook takes tentative sips, stopping every few seconds to smack his lips at the taste. Then, suddenly, he’s plopping down on the wooden planks of your porch criss-cross applesauce. The bracelet-like contraption he had removed from his suit is sitting on his wrist by itself, with Jungkook rapidly tapping some unseeable button on it until a blue hologram appears between the two of you. 

“Woah,” you gasp, the projection flawless and stable. Jungkook gets to work tapping at it, unrecognizable symbols appearing on the screen. His glass of lemonade is by his knee, ice tinkling inside. 

“Lemond-aide,” he repeats, mouth moving awkwardly around the world. He glances at you for confirmation. You shake your head. Frustrated, he scoots up beside you, pressed against your leg like a puppy. “Say it,” he commands, tapping at his screen once. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, lemonade?” you offer. Jungkook nods, clicks something else, and then your voice is repeating itself back to the two of you. He looks for your approval once more. “Perfect,” you nod, slightly bashful to hear your own voice played back like that. 

Content with your approval, he gets back to work, clicking and typing wildly at the screen until it’s filled to the brim with those strange symbols. When he’s done, he says his name and date into the same recording device and shuts off his hologram. “It is an interesting thing,” he says quietly, bare feet swinging over the edge of the porch. “A sweet drink procured from a tangy fruit.” 

You nod, can’t stop the smile that consumes your features at his childlike wonder. You know it’s not his fault that such simple things astound him, but there’s something about Jungkook’s genuine curiosity and snarky tongue that make you feel young again. Like a teenager in her prime, sitting with a silly high school boy. Not a woman sitting on the cusp of thirty, alone and untrusting of the world. 

“What are hot dogs?” Jungkook cuts in abruptly, turning to face you with those purple eyes of his. You can’t help it; you laugh. 

“I have some in the fridge,” you answer, leaving your rocking chair and him on the porch. Jungkook doesn’t sit still for long, quietly trailing behind you inside the house. The stray cat is here today, slinking around your ankles as you scour the fridge for the hot dogs. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue, you think, with hot dogs and lemonade. 

The cat wanders over towards Jungkook, sniffing at his ankles before nuzzling against him too. “You also have smilodon on your planet,” he comments. “You are comfortable with such murderous beasts in your home?”

You furrow your brows. “It’s just a cat,” you shrug, leaning down to pick up the furry baby. He purrs against your chest while Jungkook glares at it. 

“Have you taken its teeth for your own?” he asks. 

“What?” you laugh. “He has all his teeth.” 

Jungkook frowns. “No, his unusually large canines,” he explains, mimics two giant fangs with his fingers. “Is this a kitten of a smilodon?” You have no idea what he’s saying at this point, rubbing the cat’s back gently as Jungkook talks over himself. He does that a lot, you realize, ramble about facts you would otherwise see as of little importance. 

The afternoon is spent grilling hot dogs, Jungkook carefully trailing the cat he has taken to calling Smilodon. You watch from the grill as he follows the cat around the garden, gently shooing it off when it gets too close to your broccoli plants. He’s cute, you think, watching him maneuver around your plants with the grace of a trained dancer. 

He absolutely adores the hot dogs, spending another twenty minutes typing out one of those funky journal entries into the computer in his wristband. He asks about the Nintendo DS, something that makes you laugh boisterously at the absurdity of the question. 

When it gets dark outside, he stands in one place and stares up at the sky, rendered motionless at the sight. Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, but he loves hot cocoa. He settles in to watch the nightly news with you, every five minutes filled with an abundance of questions about your planet— which he refers to by a unique set of numbers and letters you’ve never heard before —and what you like to do. Every tidbit of information is documented in his wristband. 

He sleeps on the couch this time, feeling shameful to have pulled you away from such an amazing mattress. He says goodnight shyly from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a tentative wave he saw you give the mailman that morning. You say it back and fall asleep, the alien in your living room not making a peep. 

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

On the seventh day of his stay, Jungkook is woken up by the quiet beeping of his headpiece. It’s Chief Kim Namjoon, calling to ask how his population operation of Planet 43 Z-7 is going. Jungkook stills, the quiet chirping of the birds outside your window filling in the space. The water is running somewhere inside your house, signaling your conscious state. 

His answers are quick and sharp, nervous laughter falling from his lips as he rushes to end the call with Namjoon. He manages to do so just as you appear in the living room, skin nice and dewy from your morning shower, eyes still showing signs of your peaceful slumber. 

“Good morning,” you rasp quietly, a soft ruffle of his hair as you pass by Jungkook on your way to the kitchen. His face feels warm, under eye markings surely glowing a vivid red at the gesture you have gradually ingrained into him, one that makes his heart rev up like an engine preparing to shoot off millions of light years into the distance. 

Jungkook enters the kitchen behind you, your pet smilodon greeting the two of you with a gentle head butt against his ankles that is unlike any other smilodon he has encountered before. He sits at the counter as you work on breakfast, the faint scent of your cucumber body scrub wafting by with every turn you make in the small kitchen. 

And then he’s thinking. 

There are a few crucial bits of information that Jungkook has come to realize over the past week, some of which he hears directly from you, others he picks up from watching your ancient projection in the living room. 

One: of the variety of human genders that exist on Earth, you are one that seems to carry the specific set of bodily structures necessary for reproduction. He’s inspected you carefully the last few days, watching the way you move and carry yourself, just to ensure such is true. By finding you right away, Jungkook was halfway to his goal of settling his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7. 

Two: unlike most humans of Planet 43 Z-7, your body seems oddly… preserved, to say the least. He knows you are familiar with their reproductive rituals as he’s watched a few of said rituals on the projection box in your living room with you. They were very normalized among your people, with almost every broadcast including at least one mention of them every day. Despite that, your body shows no significant reaction to the scenes, and one sneaky scan of your vitals shows Jungkook that you have yet to participate in this ritual yourself. 

Lastly, Jungkook has come to the terrible, godawful conclusion that he does not wish to rope you into breeding with him for the sake of Sixam’s colonialist ways. There’s something about you and your people that does not deserve to be seized by Jungkook and his people. A sort of untouched quality of the progression of your species.

As the oldest and most advanced planet in quite possibly the entire universe, Sixam holds significant power over everyone else. Their higher order brains have helped many a planet follow the right path in attaining the same level of perfection. They were saviors of some sort, touching every planet they visited with the finger of a god. While there were certainly some Sixamians who did not believe in this way of life, of stretching their hold across entire galaxies, others did. 

Jungkook had always fallen in the middle. He had no particular desire to reign over the planets he visited, because his interests had always laid with the existence of the individuals on said planets. He was a researcher, not a military official like Namjoon or Jin. But he has to admit that time and again his research has procured the same results; while there were certainly other planets where the beings were more beautiful or the landscape more stunning than that of Sixam, there was not a single planet that matched their advanced mental capabilities. 

Until now. 

Your civilization moved in a rather fluid way, always changing and never settling. There were eras he learned about on TV, revolutions where one invention rose to prominence, where one sub-race rose to power. Even now, a simple scan through your news broadcasts leaves Jungkook curious. For the first time in a long time, his countless journal entries of information do not lead him to a plausible conclusion. Would you make it right and settle your disputes? Or would this endless fighting, sometimes carried out passively and through words, other times with the use of advanced weaponry, continue until the end of time? Jungkook didn’t know. 

And it was wrong of him to ask you to carry the burden of introducing an entirely new species— a Human and Sixamian at once —for the sole belief that it would somehow “fix” your planet. For the sake of your people, it was best if Jungkook just bugged off. 

And yet, the soft scent of your body lotion, the gentle brush of your hands against his scalp, the delicate way his name rolls off your lips like you’re tasting it for the first time, they all make his heart beat unnaturally fast beneath his skin. They make him yearn for a feeling, an emotion, he cannot quite describe. 

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

You hadn’t been too focused on it this time around, mostly just worried about your period and how awkward it would feel around Jungkook of Sixam. Preoccupied with stockpiling pads and finding your heat pad, you forget about the few days before the period. The time where your libido rages like an animal that has been poked at one too many times. 

The realization dawns on you slowly. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, avidly watching a documentary on ancient civilizations. He’s got one hand in a bowl of popcorn you set out for him, another mindlessly toying with a stray thread on a throw pillow. It’s when he looks at you with those big purple eyes, lips pouty and pink, that something distinctly carnal flickers on inside of you. 

You ignore it. You wrap those feelings in a box and shove it deep into the recesses of your mind. 

But Jungkook was devastatingly handsome, that much you’d known from the moment you saw him. When he’s not in the sun, those Sixamian markings wrap around his body in charcoal streaks, peeking out from the hem of whatever clothes you find for him everyday. For the most part, he’s been running through the pack of plain shirts you picked up from the general store, and the same two pairs of shorts on rotation. His body is artfully toned, thighs big and bulging, but waist small and tapered. His lower lip is the juiciest pink color you’ve ever seen, plush and soft, framing two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair is jet black, part favoring one side more than the other. 

His hands are firm on the rare occasion he touches you; on your hips when you stumble around the kitchen, on your shoulder when he’s pointing out a particular constellation to you. Jungkook’s presence slowly begins driving you to insanity. 

The worst thing is, you cannot tell if his curiosity comes from your status as a potential partner or his overall interests in your species. You want to convince yourself that he is just as interested in your body as an individual as you are his, but those hopes are dashed with every question he asks. Where does the sink drain? Where does the chocolate powder come from? How far is the nearest government official? 

So you calm your thoughts, push them away with the same practiced ease you’ve mastered from a young age. Your purity remains untainted by others, only teased in the shower when Jungkook is wandering around outside. Then and only then do you offer yourself a reprieve, press your fingers down between your thighs and wonder what it is like to have someone else there. 

You picture two purple eyes peering up at you from below, a pink tongue carefully licking against your puffy folds until you’re shaking. How well endowed was a Sixamian? You didn’t know, but you imagine them to be quite big if the subtle shifts you catch of Jungkook every now and then are any sign. 

One finger wiggles past the tight ring of muscle surrounding your hole, the intrusion makes your knees buck. You sink along the shower wall, huffing and puffing as your fingers dance along your swollen clit, thumb swirling hurried circles around the bud until you’re cumming, body spasming from the force.

The water rains down on you, washes your shameful acts down the drain. Vaguely, you wonder if Jungkook is still outside or if the heat drove him into your air conditioned home. Did he hear you? For all his curiosity, you’re certain there are some aspects of the human experience that Jungkook did not want to see. His roommate/caretaker/only-human-friend masturbating was probably one of them.  

It has been years since your fantasies included any other man, faithfully revolving around your ex-fiancé until the very end. It is scary how quickly the mere idea of Jungkook riles you up, how that violet gaze is enough to tear you apart. 

When you resurface in the living room, the house is still. The only sounds are that of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional creaking of the pipes. Jungkook is still outside, you sigh in relief, catching his fluffy head of hair bounding across the front yard with Smilodon on his heels. When he turns, you catch his eyes and he pauses. He offers you that same cute wave he learned last week, gentle smile gracing his features. 

It’s the soft curve of his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, that make the rapid thumping in your chest settle. You raise your hand, waving back through the window. All was well. 

For now. 

The next morning brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Namjoon calls him again in the morning, and this time Jungkook cannot skirt around the truth. He hurriedly tells his friend of his findings, of the beautiful society that flourishes on Planet 43 Z-7, and the never-ending personalities he has the chance of encountering. There is an author fansign, you told him, of a book he thoroughly enjoyed taking place next week. There is a woman in town who can fix any technology sent her way. There is a group of children who pass by and sell you food, these flattened things called Girls Cout Cook Ease. There is so much to see and so much to learn that it has Jungkook unconsciously projecting his excitement via his under eye markings. 

You come downstairs mid-call, smiley and ditzy. You were normally a bubbly person, but this much excitement can’t possibly be yours. It’s the sign Jungkook needs to settle down, but Namjoon offers him one too. 

Much to his chagrin, he warns Jungkook against getting too comfortable, tells him to finish his operation and scram as quickly as possible. The Higher Sixamian Court does not take kindly to Sixamians becoming enamored with other planets, especially if they are as advanced as Jungkook claims them to be. He’s rushing out information, begging Jungkook to finish or abandon his mission, anything but stay too long, and before Jungkook can respond, their comms are abruptly shut off. 

He’s left blankly staring at your coffee table, Namjoon’s caution ringing loudly in his ears. 

After the effects of his accidental influence wear off on you, you shake yourself awake, confusedly glancing around the place before shrugging it off. “Morning,” you say, the same as ever, patting his head softly. Jungkook watches you begin your daily routine, the kettle running on the stove as you get to work preparing his hot cocoa. 

For a moment he wonders what it’s like to be like this, to live like this. Free from the standards of Sixam as you go about your morning. There is no drive in you to conquer everyone, no overwhelming need to ‘fix’ those around you. You exist by yourself in this tiny house outside the city, like a moon always circling but never interacting. He knows you have your own circumstances that drove you here, issues where you suffered that same grueling past of people forcing ideas and beliefs upon you as Jungkook. But now you’re here, housing an extraterrestrial being such as himself without any payment. 

He wants to be like you. 

He wanders over towards the kitchen, returning your sleepy smile when you catch his gaze. Jungkook likes this. He enjoys seeing you in the morning, still trailed by the remnants of sleep, with skin tender to the touch. The smell of cocoa filling his nostrils, the chirp of the birds outside your window. He likes Smilodon and the mailman, and the woman half a mile from here who brought you peaches the other day. 

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

Not as a breeding partner or convenient hostess, but as a person. Your laughter makes him feel warm inside, like he is genuinely appreciated as is. You’re gentle with your words, and even more so with your touch; hands pat his head, hold his arm when he stumbles too close to the garden. 

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

He wants to remain beside you. 

It’s a little stuffy inside your house today, a problem you solve by cracking open the kitchen window. A nice breeze flows over the two of you, pushing the scent of the cocoa and your coffee his way. But a sweeter one follows, something thick and earthy that rolls off of you in waves. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ward off those sounds he heard from you just yesterday afternoon. 

Those whiny sounds, airy whimpers that had drifted down from upstairs. A wet squelch that had registered a little too loudly to his superior ears. It had haunted him last night on the couch, made Jungkook twist and turn until the fuzzy image of you relieving yourself went away. 

Jungkook wanted to help with that too. He wanted to put his hands and his mouth in places you needed him most, pleasure you like you deserved. 

But how could he tell you all this and more? Did he even have the right as an invader to profess his infatuation to you? This Planet 43 Z-7, this Earth, was filled to the brim with interesting things, yet you remained at the very top of Jungkook’s list. He couldn’t leave, not now, but he couldn’t stay either. His entire presence in itself was a ploy to spread his seed, a fact you continued to be unaware of. 

Namjoon’s words bounce around his brain, twist and wrap around him until he’s shakily reaching for his mug. He couldn’t stay here any longer under this false pretense. He couldn’t lie to you another day, another second more. He was tired of being a sheep. It’s with this conflicting resolve that he commands himself to confess this to you at once. 

So he spills it all out to you. 

From the complex history of the Sixamians to his assignment of this mission. You listen quietly as you munch through breakfast, nodding along to each new point he brings up that changes the story. He tells you about the population mission, about how he was sent here to spread his superior genes over the land, but how he’s let that sit on the back burner while you taught him all sorts of new things. If you are unimpressed with Jungkook and Sixam, you don’t show it. 

“So you came to... breed?” you ask when he has finished, hands neatly folded on your lap. Breakfast is finished, plate scraped clean. 

Jungkook nods shamefully. “I was asked to contribute to the reconstruction of Planet 43 Z-7,” he says, repeating the practiced reasoning every Sixamian has heard at least once in their life. But in front of you, it makes him cringe. 

The grandfather clock in the hallway clicks along quietly, the soundtrack to Jungkook’s desperate read of you. Your eyes are focused on the plate before you, lost in thought at the abundance of information he has just thrown on you. He could easily switch his influential abilities back on, brighten your mood like he has been taught to do with countless other species since the beginning of time. But it feels wrong to subject you to that, to strip you of your emotions, even if it would save him the discomfort. 

Instead he sits in silence. 

Jungkook waits patiently, even though every fiber in his being is telling him to get up and make a run for it. Escape before he can see a look of disgust aimed his way. But he has come to value your opinions as equal to his, and the thought of leaving you by yourself does not sit well with him. So he waits. 

It takes a few minutes of contemplation before you grace him with an answer, nervously rubbing your hands over your thighs. “I understand, Jungkook,” you exhale tightly. “But I don’t think I’m the partner you are looking for.”

“No! I was not— It was not my intention,” he stammers, waving his hands all over the place in his hurry to explain. He sucks in a sharp breath. “I do not wish to force such a burden on you, __,” he manages, “I would not do that to you.”

He is about to pat himself on the back for his save, when suddenly the corners of your lips take a sharp drop. “Oh, I see,” you mutter, arms self consciously wrapping around your frame. “So you don’t see me as a suitable partner?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your drawn conclusion. “No,” he chokes, and your frown deepens. “I mean, yes, I do see you as a viable partner to engage in reproductive activities,” and now he’s spiraling, the surprised look on your face only fueling his pea-brained ramblings, “I just—I assumed you did not enjoy that? 

His excuse sounds so unbelievably weak even to his own ears. 

“What made you think that?” you ask. At the rate this conversation is going, Jungkook fears his brain will soon fry itself out. 

His mind is a spinning mess, like the inside of a vacuum that rumbles and turns with each new thought that enters. What was he supposed to say? That he’s heard you in your most intimate moments, moments where you hid from him? Or that he’s done countless scans on your body when you weren’t looking and came to the same result every time; that result being that you have never been touched by another before? And what was he supposed to draw from these conclusions if not that you abhorred such intimacy?  

“I-I heard… you,” Jungkook admits quietly. “And, I felt your emotions. They were nervous.” He does not need his thermal detector to feel the heat that floods your face. “I did not want to impose on such a fragile moment,” he continues. “And I apologize if my actions have made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” you wave off, pressing the back of your knuckles to your cheeks. “I apologize for doing something so inappropriate with you in my house.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Do you not enjoy participating in sexual activities, __?” he asks curiously. 

You gulp loudly, obviously startled by his question. Which part of it, Jungkook doesn’t know. He nudges your knee with his, urging you to answer. A shaky exhale, and then you’re rambling. “I-No, I do,” you rush out, avidly avoiding his gaze. “I, um, I just have never, uh, been with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Is that why your reproductive areas are strangely well preserved for a being your age? I was beginning to wonder about the complexities of Human reproduction after meeting you, __. Is there a certain tradition one must follow to copulate with you?” 

“No, no,” you rush to correct. Jungkook has obviously said something that upset you, because when you speak again your aura is tainted with the hints of irritation. “Tradition is stupid,” you explain slowly, a sense of heartache consuming him at your rather lonely figure. He is beside you, yet feels a thousand light years away from your heart. “I was just a fool.”

His gaze softens, carefully placing a hand on your knee comfortingly. He doesn’t have to say anything more, just let you know he isn’t far at all, and you understand. You lean against his shoulder, the same sad look in your eyes. The grandfather clock ticks on in the hallway, in sync with the slow rhythm of your heart. Jungkook places a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The day drags on. 

Your morning chores are finished quickly with Jungkook at your side. He obsesses over the plants and plays with Smilodon. You make apple juice today with the fruits that fall from the tree out front. Jungkook enjoys it, but not as much as lemonade. Still, it gets its own entry in his log. 

He asks more questions about your world, straying away from the ones he had last week that seemed to exclusively revolve around the fauna and flora. Now, he is interested in your Human way of life. The TV confuses him, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between dramas and news stations. So you explain as best you can for him. 

His main issue lies in his inability to comprehend the constant strife within your planet, especially when you explain to him topics like poverty or homelessness. Sixam is nothing like Earth, he says, because everyone on Sixam is looked after and taken care of as deemed appropriate. There is no division of classes because deep down, every Sixamian acknowledges they are superior to the rest of the universe. It sounds like a utopia to you, but you’ve read enough books to know how those usually turn out. 

That fact intrigues Jungkook as well. How Humans can be aware of so many altering concepts and beliefs, yet desensitized to all. He doesn’t get it, and explaining the concept of fiction existing on a separate plane only confuses him more. 

Eventually you bring it back to tradition, somehow, that dreaded word you’ve come to abhor. Jungkook enjoys learning about your culture and your way of life, little things you do here and there. But as most things do in your life, the conversation circles back around to your failed marriage. 

“Ah,” Jungkook says. “So it is tradition to save your first reproductive act for the one you ‘marry’?” You nod, toes tucked up into the couch. It’s a little before sunset now, the orange hue of the outdoors leaking into your living room. “And then you take their last name? That is very confusing, __. I thought this last name identified you to your fellow Human, how can you so easily change it around?” 

You laugh. “It's complicated,” you offer. Jungkook chuckles as well, obviously overwhelmed with all the new information you provided him with today. 

Jungkook nods pensively but you doubt he understands. “I see,” he mumbles, fingertip tapping against the armrest he’s leaning against. It’s a tell tale sign that he desperately wants to document what you’ve said in his supercomputer bracelet but is holding back for the sake of this moment. You think it’s rather sweet. “So copulation does not always secure you a partner.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “People have different drives,” you say. “Some of them want love and some just want sex.”

“And you?” he asks suddenly, big purple eyes swirling with entire galaxies. “What would you like?” 

A lot of things, you think, but when it comes down to it, when Jungkook asks you with his pretty eyes and pouty lips, you can’t find the right words. “Both,” is your measly reply. “What about you?” 

He seems just as thrown off by your question as you, eyes widening as he leans back. The living room is bathed in warm splashes of color, the last of the sun’s rays painting Jungkook in a rather romantic light. You can’t look away. “I too would like both,” he admits, idly tracing the tip of his finger along the markings that decorate the tops of his knees. “This notion of attraction beyond the physical realm is not common in Sixam,” he answers. “Sixam is very… strict about what a relationship entails. 

You set your mug down on the side table, shuffling around until your toes poke his hip, arm thrown over the back of the couch. “How so?” you ask. 

Jungkook’s lips push out into a frown. “The Higher Sixamian Court has long since ruled that mating rituals between citizens are strictly limited to those that will produce the most immaculate genome,” he says, as if that is just another simple, everyday fact of life. It is for him, but not for you. 

“So, are you like… assigned?” you press, suddenly wondering how a being as curious and sentimental as Jungkook has survived so long in a place like Sixam. “And like, do you raise kids together?”

“Until the end of their first era,” Jungkook supplies, as if that makes the slightest bit of sense. “And sort of. Sixam is not that oppressive,” he jokes, but there is something about his eyes missing their usual glow that tips you off. “I have yet to copulate for reproductive purposes.”

You pause. “But you have for… fun purposes?” 

Jungkook looks at you seriously. And then, ever so slowly, the little marks beneath the corners of his eyes, the little triangles that usually flare blue, fade into a lovely pink shade. “I-“ he stammers, obviously flustered by your question. “I have.”

Your mouth parts into a little o. “With other Sixamians? Or….” Jungkook flushes, nods meekly. His expression seems off, like it isn’t a particular fond memory he carries. “Was it bad or something?” 

He sighs. “It is… very lacking. Nothing like the scenes depicted in your projection box.” He nods towards the TV, you barely contain a giggle at its name. You reach for your mug instead. “There is no,” he waves a hand in front of his face. The last rays of sun catch on his hand and turn his charcoal  markings a pretty gold. “No expressions of adoration beyond what is necessary. And I do not particularly enjoy that.” 

You nod understandingly. “You're soft,” you tease, watch his little triangles light up again at your words. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “so am I.”

He says nothing, just stares blankly out the front window as the sun disappears behind the horizons, leaving thousands of glittering lights in its wake. Not man made but natural; right. “I think your last name is lovely,” he suddenly announces. You chuckle against the lip of your mug, but Jungkook doesn’t find it amusing. He turns to you with that sparkling purple gaze, like you’ve hung those stars outside yourself. “There is no other __ ___ like you.”

Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the coffee steam rising from the mug or Jungkook’s unexpected reassurance. It makes your heart tender, sends a shock through your system that leaves your body buzzing. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, covering the palm he rests over the couch with yours. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ovulation ends, but your blossoming feelings for Jungkook do not go away. 

The next morning his comms remain shut off. Jungkook has never had his communications back home cut off, save for the time in his first era where he brashly spoke out against his superior in a lab. He was young and had much to learn, took too many risks and didn’t consider the consequences. He guesses he hasn’t grown much since then as he watches you tend to your garden. 

“Smilodon urinated in the closet,” he announces, witnessing the smile slowly slip off your features. He lets you revel in your annoyance for exactly two seconds before following with the phrase he heard on your box the other day. “Just kidding! You are being prank’d. 

Your frown is nothing like the expression the program’s contests exhibited following their supposed pranking. “Jungkook, that’s not funny,” you huff and his heart sinks. A soft snort. “Okay, maybe a little,” you concede with a terribly contained smile. 

He bounds over, kneels down beside you, and begins pulling the overgrown weeds out with you. “I saw it on the projection box the other day,” he explains excitedly, tossing the weeds into the bag between you two. “I did not know such pleasure could be received from silly broadcasts like that.” You nod, say something about all kinds of dumb shows existing before a pout taints your lips. “What's wrong?” 

A long sigh from you. “I think the sun isn’t reaching these,” you tell him, lifting the stem of a sad looking tomato plant. It’s the closest one to the house, often covered by the house’s shadow when the sun shines best. “They’re sad.”

He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Sad?” he repeats, reaching for his wristband before he can stop to think. If his extensive journaling reads right, your planet’s vegetation follows similar patterns to that of another’s, requiring allotted amounts of sunlight and water to flourish. “How can it be sad?” 

Caught up in his notes, he doesn’t realize you’ve migrated to the other side of the garden now, dutifully picking out more weeds. “Well, it looks sad doesn’t it?” Jungkook glances back again. The tomato stalk is significantly droopy and malformed, smaller than its brethren who sit only a few inches away in direct sunlight. It’s colors are dulled and almost… sad. Huh. How peculiar. 

He chances one glance back at you, deems you far enough, and then channels the entirety of his energy towards the tomato plant. It wiggles a few times, kind of like it’s dancing, before you’re calling his name from the other side. “What’re you doing?” you ask, hand on your hip. Jungkook stills. 

“Um,” he drawls. The plant returns to its sulky state. 

Garbage bag full of weeds, you pass by him with a shake of your head. “Don’t do anything weird to my plants, silly,” you chide. Jungkook huffs, follows behind to take the bag off your hands. You thank him, join him for his walk around the house until he tosses the bag into the garbage can out front. Before he can retort and engage you in a playful argument regarding his superior abilities, you’re crouching down by the spigot out front. It’s making a weird hissing noise that has Jungkook frowning as he walks over. 

Right as he approaches, you make the amateur mistake of turning the handle, water spewing out from the gap between the spigot’s mouth and where it’s supposed to meet the hose. You screech, and Jungkook can’t shut it off fast enough. 

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

“Ugh,” you groan as you walk around the house to the unlocked back door. Jungkook trudges behind, just a teensy bit annoyed by the mud that quickly stains his rubber sandals. “This is so annoying!” you complain loudly, shaking yourself off like Smilodon when it accidentally fell into the sink the other day. “Ruined my day.”

At that Jungkook frowns. He does not want your day to be ruined, especially not by some faulty spigot outside. You were too good for such emotions, too perfect in his eyes. Sadness and the like did not suit you; they had no place ruining your beautiful features. You’re huffily patting yourself down at the back porch now, distress prominent on your features as you most likely consider the second load of laundry you will have to do today. 

The tomato stalk glances at him sadly from the ground, and before Jungkook can stop himself, he’s breathing in deeply and pushing his generally relaxed attitude onto you. You can be mad later, but right now Jungkook doesn’t want to see you sad. It’s effective immediately, your gloominess quickly fading away. You breathe in deeply, eyes falling shut, and when you open them again you’re offering him the most gentle smile he has ever seen. 

And a soaked through shirt that highlights the shape of your red undergarments. Jungkook’s eyes widen, unconsciously flicking down to the sight you present him with, and a different emotion floods his senses. 

It’s quite possibly his biggest mistake. Because while he can easily look away, it takes longer for those emotions to fade, and soon they’re being reflected on you. 

“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head in confusion because these aren’t your emotions— you probably know they’re his. Jungkook feels terrible instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, scrambling up the steps to guide you inside. Simultaneously, he’s shutting down his influential abilities, scolding himself for slipping up with you like this. You most certainly did not want to feel this way around Jungkook, yet here he was quite literally projecting onto you. “Please, let’s go inside.” 

You nod, jolt when his hand touches the small of your back as he guides you in. “Oh,�� you gasp, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to force himself from making the situation worse, from thinking thoughts you would not approve of. “Why— what's happening?” you ask in a breathy tone, lingering by the staircase Jungkook tries to push you up. 

He sighs. “I— I was trying to brighten your mood,” he admits, metaphorical ears pressed against his head like when Smilodon gets scolded for knocking down a plant. “And, um. There was— the, um, sight of your undergarments distracted me for a moment.” You glance down and seemingly become aware for the first time that your bright red bra is on display, shyly covering yourself with your arms. 

“Distracted?” you mumble softly, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Your skin is radiating more heat than Jungkook ever recalls, face demurely turned down towards the floor. He could have sworn he stopped projecting minutes again— why were you still behaving like this? Did he break you? Did he exude more energy than he meant to, accidentally extend the length of the emotions? “I’ll go upstairs now,” you announce quietly, touch his arm almost sensually as you pass by. 

Your skin is warm, that heavenly scent that Jungkook craved rolling off in waves— but he was certain he’d stopped himself before anything became too overwhelming. Were his emotions stronger than he had fooled himself into believing? There was no way he had felt or looked as riled up when he accidentally influenced you. So where exactly were these emotions coming from? What exactly was making you behave this way even after he’d withdrawn his influence? Could it be...

Jungkook watches with wide eyes, almost certain that your behavior, though sparked by his initial slip up, was entirely your own at this point. 

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

The water turns on upstairs, and he has to strain his ears, still his breathing, just for a hint of your sounds. But they’re there, quiet successors to the louder moans you’d let out the other day. They make him shiver, melt against the staircase as his cock twitches in his pants. His body comes alive, something distinctly carnal twitching beneath his skin, blossoming out at the base of his spine. 

And still, as he grinds his hand into his palm, it is not merely the sight of your red undergarments that render Jungkook useless. No, the ghost of your smile at his poorly executed prank follows, brands itself into the inside of his eyelids as he slowly falls apart. 

Was it your own emotions that had made you like that? he wonders, sinking to his knees in the hallway. If you came down right now, you’d certainly catch him. But Jungkook can still hear your muffled cries from upstairs, and furthermore, Jungkook wanted desperately for you to catch him. He knows you won’t, but the idea makes him shiver, has him coming in his bottoms shamefully. 

“What the,” he huffs, sweat trailing down his forehead. His brain replays that look in your eyes. That emotion you displayed that, although it may have been planted by him, was taken by you and magnified. Had you been just as excited by the sight of Jungkook’s wet body as he had yours? And if such was the case, was your attraction to him limited to the physical realm?

He doesn’t want to delude himself, but your words from the other day ring loudly in his ears. Soft, you had called him, for wanting something both physically and emotionally intimate. But you were the same, or so you claimed. 

Was it so wrong for Jungkook to think that ideology applied now?

That night you join Jungkook outside for his routine stargazing. He sits on the porch while you sit on your rocking chair, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jungkook retells his adventures across the universe. 

Space is bigger than you thought, with a culture far more complex than Earth’s. It makes you wonder how Jungkook, who has quite literally seen it all, can become so enamored with this place. There’s bigger and better somewhere out there; planets that won’t force terrible traditions on him or task him into ungodly missions. Yet he lingers here, in this quiet space between your garden and your house, head on your lap. 

His hair is soft, almost like silk, and he enjoys having it touched. “I do not wish to leave,” he admits quietly, empty mug long since set aside. You hum, encourage him to elaborate. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7.” 

You snort. “No way,” you say, trace your hand down his jawline. Jungkook says nothing of your wandering hands, skin warm to the touch. Some of his markings decorate his neck, curl around the pale skin in perfectly symmetrical swoops. They creep beneath the hem of his shirt, and you wonder what they look like down there. 

You flush those thoughts away, that afternoon’s events still fresh in your mind. From your understanding of the events, Jungkook had been excited at the sight of your body, so he obviously had to hold some attraction towards you. But how much of that was purely physical and how much was emotional? 

“I want to have your last name,” he announces suddenly. You choke, breath caught in your throat from the randomness of the statement. Your reaction makes Jungkook pull away from your touch, stare at you with wide eyes like you do him. 

“I— what?” you stammer, having gained back your composure. Or at least some of it. “Jungkook, I don’t think you know what that means.”

He frowns, shuffles around until he’s facing you, and lays his head across your lap again. This time, those purple eyes that dance with nebulas and stardust zero in on you. His hair tickles your bare thighs, makes you unconsciously press them together when his warm breath fans across your skin. “You amaze me,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “I have never seen a being like you, who lives so far off from society, thrive in their own bubble— is it too much for me to want to live like you? Be with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

Jungkook smiles, turns his face to hide it against you. Pink lips brush against your skin, your hands unconsciously shooting into his hair to guide him away. When his head rolls back, he’s got this rather melancholy look on his face. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7,” he says again, “and I am looking right at her.” 

Your face burns. 

Heart hammering in your chest, palms sweaty, you don’t know what to say. He looks at you with that vibrant gaze, drinks you in like you’re the finest of wines and your heart absolutely cannot handle it. Your brain fumbles for a response but by then Jungkook is standing up, head tilted downwards cutely as he observes you. One hand in his, thumb gently swiping over your knuckles. “I would like to show you every expression of adoration possible, __,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing back inside. 

You stay outside, turning his words inside and out, backwards and forwards, until you deduce that Jungkook of Sixam most definitely harbored the same feelings for you as you did for him. It’s odd, because it is exactly what you want but the idea scares you to death. The last time you let a man into your life under a similar guise you ended up wasting years of your life, clinging to this grand finale you never got. And now this foreign being was proclaiming his feelings for you, possibly propositioning you for the same thing. 

Did you want Jungkook? Yes, undoubtedly yes. He was free from the shackles of tradition that had held you down so long, didn’t believe in this twisted notion of your body being “sacred.” He was a breath of fresh air, unlike anyone you’ve ever met before (although part of that was due to his alien heritage).

However, he was not free of flaws, and perhaps that is what entices you more.

Jungkook, though he looked and spoke like the perfect man, was a being of his own, with struggles of his own. He too had his own handful of painful memories, toxic ideologies that followed him around. But Jungkook was willing to learn, to change. And you admired him for it. 

Tip-toeing back inside, you find the house shrouded in darkness. The steady tick of the grandfather clock lessens the rapid beating of your heart. Jungkook is sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled to his chest. Muscle memory has you reaching out for the top of his head like always, ready to pat his fluffy hair as if you hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes outside doing just that. He turns around just as your fingers touch his soft strands, purple eyes meeting yours. You trace your hand down the side of his face, knuckles brushing over his cheekbones; he puckers his lips, bestows a second tender smooch against you. 

“I like when you do that,” he says, voice unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent house. As he speaks, he shifts to the side, arm thrown over the back of the couch to look at you completely. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip and he gulps. “Makes me crazy.” 

You chuckle, releasing him to round the couch. Jungkook’s got this sweet smile on his face, hand outstretched for you. When you take it, he tugs you onto the couch, flush beside him. Your thigh is practically thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. You heart flutters and you can no longer look him in the eye. 

But that’s okay because Jungkook can. He ducks down, dark hair tickling your skin as his breath ghosts over your lips. “May I?” he asks softly, nose bumping against yours. “May I have the honor of pleasuring you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, answering with a tiny nod that makes his lower lip brush against yours teasingly. “I-If I am suitable,” you mumble, tingles spreading all over your body. 

Jungkook smiles, pretty and bright, as he turns his head to slot your mouths together. “No,” he says, “if I am suitable. You are more than enough.” Lips brush against yours, shaky breath meets yours, and then he’s kissing you. Slow yet suave, carefully molding against you as if he is afraid of breaking you. His lips are like two soft pillows, moving against yours in a practiced rhythm that makes you tremble against him. Every bit the measly virgin, but Jungkook likes you just so. 

He pulls away with a pop, his figure shadowed by the darkness of the room. But his eyes, purple irises, glow brightly. Like two pools of cosmic dust swirling around his dark pupils. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you hardly saw Jungkook in the dark anyway. He hides them too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in again. 

The second time, there’s a faint flick of his tongue against your bottom lip. The action makes you gasp quietly, lips parting for a fraction of a second. But Jungkook is quick, slips his tongue past your lips. It’s lewd; his breath mingles with yours, tongue pushing against yours. Slick and dirty, spit traveling between your two mouths, but Jungkook makes sure you’re okay, sinfully wrapping his lips around your tongue when you get too brave. A moan escapes you, fingers squeezing around his. 

Jungkook squeezes back, pushes forward until you’re pressed against the back cushions of the couch. “This okay?” he husks, low-lidded eyes meeting yours when he pulls away. You nod, words caught in your throat. Jungkook’s gaze lasers in on your mouth, and he seems to have an internal debate before eventually pulling away to kiss your neck. 

You tilt your head back, choppy exhales creeping out from between your lips as he kisses down the column of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to press against your hip instead. It’s with a devastatingly slow speed that he eventually slinks away, finds himself kneeling between you on the floor with hands dancing over the tops of your thighs. Your heart is beating a thousand miles in your chest, threatening to rip itself right out when he meets your eyes a second time. 

He pushes your legs apart, not once looking away as he gently encourages you to raise one. Lips pressed against your knee, slowly trailing down the skin of your thigh. Your hand squeezes at the couch cushions. Jungkook pulls a startled yelp from you when he tugs at the backs of your knees, makes you slump down the couch with your legs perfectly spread out for him, feet flat on the floor. Then he’s back to kissing you, languidly pressing smooch after smooch against your scorching skin until he’s reaching the apex of your thighs, stilling once to look your way. 

“Go ahead,” you choke out, hands clutched over your chest, as if that’ll keep your heart from up and running away. Jungkook takes your admission and moves on, puckered lips meeting your mound through your clothing. It’s the first time you’ve ever had someone else so close to your most sensitive areas, and rightly so, you whimper. 

“Shh,” he soothes, thumb pressing against your hip as he carefully hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. You’re quivering like a leaf, lower lip bitten raw between your teeth as you watch him move between your legs. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” Jungkook murmurs. 

Another press of his mouth against you, this time right over where your bud hides, and the sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers tighten around the waistband of your shorts, take your underwear with them when he begins pulling them down your hips. You push yourself up briefly, let him slide them down your legs and bare yourself to him for the first time. 

Your cheeks flood with warmth, hands unconsciously reaching to pull your shirt down, but Jungkook catches you. Fingers tangle with yours, warm breath fanning over your slick folds. Unconsciously, you tense up at his proximity, the stark realization that this was the moment you had waited for for a good chunk of your life suddenly hitting you. Jungkook seems to notice you crawl inside your head, drawing you back with a squeeze around your hand, luminous eyes meeting yours. 

“If you need me to stop, I will,” he reassures you.

The blood is rushing to your ears, his words nearly lost in the madness. “Aren’t you scared?” you ask quietly, voice wobbly, holding his hands so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t complain.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Would you like to know how I feel?”

Hesitantly, you nod. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, but the little triangle markings beneath his eyes begin to glow. Like fireflies in the dark, two little lights that intensify as he exhales.

And then, suddenly, you’re flooded with a new wave of emotions, similar to yours but not. They feel like yours, but are distinctly his, make you arch against the cushions with a soft groan. 

At the forefront, lust that swarms your senses and makes your body melt into the couch beneath you. It makes you shiver, nipples peaked beneath your top as his feelings and their intensity grow on you. It feels like drowning, like swallowing a thick and sticky substance that lingers in your throat and refuses to go away. It’s how he feels about you at this moment, so strongly it could drown him. 

So overwhelmed with that sensation alone, you almost don’t recognize the second emotion that Jungkook takes and pours into you. 

Warm and comforting, like being embraced by a thousand doves, kissed by a swarm of butterflies. It’s different from the first, doesn’t tap directly into your physical body, but wraps around your heart, creeps into your thoughts. Until you’re rolling your eyes back open and meeting his, the feeling so plainly spelled out across his features. 

Sheer and utter adoration. 

“Oh,” you breathe, face scorching to the touch following the emotions Jungkook’s just revealed to you. 

He grins, shy, and squeezes your hand. “What do you want to do?”

Biting your lip, you take initiative and hook your knee over his shoulder, the same way he had shown you just moments prior. “Please,” you murmur, “show me more.”

And Jungkook does.

A soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose running along your skin teasingly. And then he’s faced with your puffy lips, pink skin slick with arousal. Jungkook sighs softly, tilts his head as if he’s analyzing his next course of action, and then carefully places his mouth against you. 

“Mmmh,” you whimper, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, never having felt such intense pleasure before. Jungkook doesn’t mind as he languidly kisses your folds, eyes shut as he loses himself in the motions. The first swipe of his tongue makes you twitch, arms flailing but Jungkook holds them down, entwined fingers pressed against the couch. 

His tongue is an entity of its own, wet muscle pressing and licking at your most sensitive areas like it was made specifically for this. Never mind talking, Jungkook’s tongue was made to lap at your pussy like this. He licks a long stripe up from your quivering hole to your engorged clit, curling at the end as if you were nothing more but a sweet for him to mindlessly play with. 

Your muscles clench up, the leg thrown around his shoulder unconsciously pulling him closer until his nose is pressed flush against your clit. Jungkook breathes in deeply, moans softly but it sends earth-shattering vibrations up your core until you’re a whimpering mess. “O-Oh,” you cry, sweat clinging to your skin as Jungkook continues lapping at your folds. 

He releases one hand, uses it to push your other leg further away to properly slot himself against you. You take the opportunity to wildly reach for him, grabby hands lost in the silky waves on his head as you urge him closer to where you need him most. You’re not even sure where that is anymore, your clit or your entrance, but Jungkook switches between the two just fine. 

That warm tongue prods at your entrance, tip sinking inside just enough to make you gasp. It’s a new experience for you, someone’s tongue touching and stroking you there, and it feels like an entirely new door opens from that action alone. You whimper his name, dig your nails across his scalp like maybe he’ll grant you a reprieve and pull away. But you don’t really want that, and so you’re happy when he stays where he is. 

The hand that had rested against the juncture of your hip glides up, lays flat over your mound with his thumb idly swirling around your clit. The combination of his tongue breaching your hole and his fingers playing along your clit makes you spasm. “Wait,” you sob, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he licks away. “I-I’m gonna—“

An overpowering wave of relief floods your senses shortly before that last syllable can escape your lips; everything goes tight and then suddenly you’re on a cloud, cum spilling from your heat and onto his waiting tongue. Jungkook licks it all up, slurps loudly against your clit as the last waves of your orgasm run their course. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing up your navel, t-shirt pushed away as he goes. 

When he reaches your face, you’re quite embarrassed to find the area around his mouth to be glistening with your juices. “You’re incredible,” he says, easygoing smile on his lips. But there’s something hard and heavy against you, snuggled between your thighs, that makes your face heat up all over again. 

You can’t find the words to respond, and lose the opportunity when Jungkook captures your lips with his again. He’s more assertive this time around, roughly pushing against you until you’re certain you’ll bruise. But it feels good, makes you wrap your hands around him as Jungkook grinds down against you. When he pulls away, he’s got this dark look on his face, out of place against such bright eyes. 

He says nothing as his hands creep up your waist, push your t-shirt and bra out of the way, until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. Experienced hands massage them thoroughly, roll the soft skin between his fingers. His mouth is against yours again, tongues pressed together; Jungkook groans and the sound shoots straight between your thighs. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you whimper, break away from his kiss to hide your face against his shoulder.

His cock is heavy against your folds, the thick material of his pants slowly stimulating you again. The cotton brushes against you, most certainly picks up your wetness as it goes, and Jungkook lets it as he continues to grind down against you with his hands on your tits. Your hands tear their way down his back, fist the material of his shirt in your hands. “Off, off,” you plead, desperate to feel more of him against you.

Jungkook complies, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. You were right about his markings, dark swoops and circles that decorate his chest and abdomen before tapering down around his waist. Your mouth salivates at the sight, blindly reaching for your own clothes as if one look away will make him disappear. 

He doesn’t.

In fact, the removal of both your tops only makes Jungkook hungrier, completely abandoning your lips to suck your breast into his mouth instead. “Jungk— fuck,” you wail, slipping further down the couch as you lose yourself in Jungkook’s embrace. His teeth nibble at your swollen bud, roll the sensitive skin around before pulling off with a wet pop. 

Your breath jumps when he reaches behind you, corded arm locking around your waist as he repositions the two of you, unsatisfied with the previous position. He lifts you up with his undoubtedly superior strength, one palm beneath your thigh as he plops you down across the couch more comfortably, head neatly resting on a throw pillow. 

Your heart is in your throat, desperate to memorize the man before you, inked skin, lean and meaty, vibrant violet eyes that focus solely on you. Before he can join you on the couch, Jungkook steps away, tucks his thumbs into his waistband and swiftly removes them. His engorged cock, bigger than any you’ve seen in any erotic video— and that was saying a lot —springs up against his navel, flaming tip glaring right at you. Your pussy quivers at the sight. 

“Come here,” he husks out as he moves towards you. You welcome him with open arms, a soft groan of his name against his lips as he shoves his tongue past. His hands are everywhere now; one squeezes at your breast, hand molded to the flesh, while the other runs along the underside of your thigh, guides it over his waist. And another tickles around your navel, soft—

You shriek, eyes snapping open as you tug Jungkook over you as a shield. “What was that?” you heave, wide eyes roving over the dark living room, like maybe you’ll find Smilodon traversing the carpet and it was his silky tail that came too close. 

But Smilodon doesn’t usually appear at night, nor is there anything else in the living room with you and Jungkook. Your heart hammers in your chest, carefully meeting his dark gaze until something thin and distinctively alive appears over his shoulder. Another scream tears itself from your lips.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook shushes, pulls away to cup your face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he says tenderly, “we are so similar, I forget you do not possess extra arms.”

You pale. “E-Extra arms?” you choke, eyes focused on the thin ‘arm’ that slinks out from behind Jungkook, almost screeching again when a second one appears on the opposite side. And then a third, a fourth. 

It is no arm, but rather… a tentacle? Sans the weird suction cups. They’re thin little things, no thicker than his wrist, that dance behind him as if they have a mind of their own. They move as if suspended in water, soft lilac skin tenderly touching yours. You shiver, its smooth skin odd against your supple flesh. Jungkook relaxes, but draws them back anyway. “Forgive me,” he says again, taking your hand in his to press a peck against it. Your heart flutters at the gesture that was slowly driving you insane. “I shall keep them at bay.”

You nod shakily, but cannot deny the curiosity that picks at you when they slink back into the base of his spine, blend seamlessly against his skin. “What… what do they do?” you ask tentatively. 

Jungkook hums as he descends upon you, featherlight kisses against your shoulder and up your neck. “Hmm? They help me out,” he explains mindlessly, pulling you flush against his cock again. A moan tears itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you force yourself to focus on the moment again. 

But your hands unconsciously wander down his spine as he kisses you, circle the skin where your swear they had to have disappeared beneath, until Jungkook is pulling away with a confused expression on his face. “Would you like to see them again?” he asks quizzically, sweat forming along his hairline. 

You cannot play it off any longer; meekly, you nod. “I— they were interesting,” you admit in a quiet voice, nervously twiddling your fingers over your chest. 

Jungkook says nothing for a second, until he’s lightly chuckling and pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Okay,” he concedes, and goes back to rolling his hips against yours. 

About to protest, the words are robbed from your throat when something soft and blunt tickles your thigh. “Oh,” you shudder, prevailing through the initial shock as Jungkook’s ‘arm’ slides around the diameter of your thigh to brush against your cunt. It’s silky and smooth, pushes against your lips until it’s emerging past them, slipping inside of you.

You gasp, head lolling backwards as the sensation gets to you. It feels the same as your fingers do when you’re in the shower, but it moves differently, gauging your reactions as it curls within your walls. Jungkook muffles a low chuckle against your chin, kisses spread over you until his tongue is back down your throat.

“Feels good?” he asks, hot mouth against yours. You nod jerkily, hands digging into his biceps. Another appendage tickles around your waist, dips into your navel and makes you giggle. It’s a sound that’s frankly out of place amongst your moans and whimpers, but it makes Jungkook smile. It eventually moves away, continuing its soft caresses elsewhere. 

The one that plays in your pussy has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, jaw slack. Perfect for Jungkook who pushes and prods until his saliva is dripping down your throat, catching in the corners of your lips. It impossibly fattens inside of you, makes you choke just as a different one dances around your neck. “I— I,” you stutter, boneless beneath him as the soft tip traces around the column of your neck tenderly, lovingly. 

There’s so many different areas to focus on: one rubs comfortingly beneath your breast, while another fucks into your cunt. The contrast has your head spinning, unsure of where to look. 

There’s something about the one inside of you that makes you feel so sticky and wet, more so than before. Like it’s oozing something out, making the glide against your walls smoother than before. It makes your body tingle, sends a feeling down your spine that you’re almost certain isn’t normal. 

At the same time, there’s a brush along your thigh again, a tight coil around the flesh of your skin tightly that encourages your legs apart. More room for Jungkook to squeeze in. It wraps around you, slithers past its sibling and prods against your ass. Your heart skips a beat, buck into Jungkook’s embrace as it slips between your cheeks— you gasp. It releases that same substance that makes everything so wet. You tremble at the touch, body already so overwhelmed. 

Your attention is snatched away before anything can happen, Jungkook tugging you closer until the ridges of his cock are running along your folds, each push sending his goddamn tentacle deeper inside of you. You moan, hands shakily traversing his skin until you’re cupping his face in your palms. “More,” you hoarsely whisper, dazed eyes meeting his. “Please.”

Jungkook nods, presses one more kiss against your lips before shuffling around. The appendage inside of you swiftly recoils, has you shivering from the way it slips out of you so easily. As it finally emerges from your folds, you find it’s slick with cum and something slightly pink, sparkly and wet as if it’s got precum of its own. The sight amazes you, makes you want to touch it. Before you can, it’s moving again. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t go away, doesn’t return to hide within Jungkook’s body, but wraps around his cock tightly. Purple tendril against engorged skin, makes him sigh at the squeeze. 

He holds the base of his cock, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he regards you with an unrecognizable look. One hand on your thigh, fingers gripping tightly even before he’s done anything. “Tell me you want this,” he exhales, “please?” 

You nod hurriedly, hands reaching for his hips to urge him closer. “Want this,” you assure him, quiver when the head of his cock presses against your folds. Bigger than your fingers, bigger than that damned appendage, and it was going inside of you. “Want this so bad,” you whimper, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. A squeeze around your breasts, a flick against your nipples. It’s not Jungkook’s hands, and that fact makes you shiver. 

They curl around your breasts, frame the mounds gently before the flatted tips meet your nipples, tease them with featherlight nudge. 

Eased by the certainty of your words, Jungkook relaxes. He places a hand on your hip, the other still holding his cock as he lines himself up with your throbbing entrance. You’re so wet, dripping in your own cum and whatever that tentacle released, thighs slippery and shiny. The anticipation in your chest swells, pushes against your rib cage until you’re afraid it’ll break. The little markings beneath his eyes flash and suddenly it’s gone, replaced with a sense of comfort that only doubles when he flashes you a tiny smile.

The first press of his cock makes your back arch, has you knocking every throw pillow off the couch as he slowly eases his way in. “Oh god—“ you sob, the sudden intrusion being questioned by every muscle in your body. Immediately, two of his tentacles snap forward, release their soft grip on your neck and their wrap around your breasts to caress up your sides, smooth ends practically kissing your skin with their soft nudges. 

They by no means lessen the pain, but their butterfly touches are a nice distraction that tickles your skin, makes you whimper softly as Jungkook slowly sinks into you. 

Jungkook ducks over you, tip of his nose against yours. “Breathe for me,” he instructs, even though his breath is labored against yours. One appendage cups your cheek, curls softly around your ear to hold your head still— you feel so spoiled with all the attention. You make an effort, breathe in swiftly through your nose as Jungkook pushes in deeper.

Slowly, the discomfort fades away. It melts and in its wake you’re left with a dull numbing sensation that starts in your toes and magnifies as it reaches your ears. It grows until the weight of his cock inside of you has you drooling, eyes unfocused as you watch Jungkook push himself to the hilt, the ridges of the tentacle wrapped around his cock making you jolt with every push. 

At the same time as his cock thrusts inside of you, a sneaky little thing continues it’s dance between your cheeks, pokes and kisses at your hole like it’s testing you. It is, really, because you've never had anything up your ass before— up until a few moments ago, you had barely had anything in your pussy. 

This was your first time, yet two seperate holes were begging to be filled, clenching tightly at Jungkook kisses along your chest, hands wound beneath the small of your back. The playful tentacle near your behind does just that— plays until you gently reach back for it, trembling hands giving it the go ahead it needs to finally plunge itself within you. Like an excited little being, it flutters against your hand a soft, kiss-like press against your palm before returning to its favored spot. 

It chooses the perfect moment to press in, takes advantage of Jungkook’s first few slow thrusts to slip its way inside. A loud moan tears itself from your throat, and Jungkook joins along. “I-I’m sorry,” he pants, mouth against yours. “I-I just want to feel you.”

You shake him off, body twitching from the utter fullness you felt, the weight in between your folds and your ass that moves in opposing strokes. His cock, wrapped in those bulging ridges, pushes in just as the tentacle in your rear pulls out, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper and sob. 

It feels good, amazing even, and you almost can’t believe it’s happening. Jungkook’s lips slot against yours, slow and lazy as he lets your body grow familiar with the stretch. He kisses you until the cat-like grip you have on his shoulders weakens, replaced with wandering hands that trail down his spine. The base of his spine where his protrusions appear is unique, makes him buck against you when you wrap your hands around one appendage.

“S-Sensitive,” he says as an apology, never mind the fact you want him desperately to fuck into you like that again. You voice such thoughts and Jungkook groans against your skin. “Really?” He chokes out, “I can move?”

One nod and then he’s off, for real this time. 

He’s slow at first, like he’s hesitant about hurting you, but you tuck one leg around him, pull him closer until he’s forced deeper inside of you, and from there everything is a downward spiral. You forget Jungkook of Sixam is superior for more than just one reason, harsh reminder given in the strong snap of his hips that would have otherwise sent you flying off the couch if that same strength wasn’t channeled into the arms he held you with. 

You reach for his hair, desperate to feel that comforting silk between your fingers, but then there’s something wrapping around your wrists. It pins your hands down, twists around your wrists twice before snaking up and curling along your fingers. Like it wants to hold your hand, wants to fill the spaces for Jungkook. The thought makes you burn, insides a boiling mess as he fucks into you, hands held down above your head.

“Jungkook,” you sob, squirming in his hold. It’s like whenever you move, there’s something there, holding you down or fucking you senseless. He responds with a grunt, roughly thrusting into you over and over until all you can manage is a series of hiccups. 

The ridges around his cock, the added thickness lended to him by his extra appendage, has every shove past your lips sending tingles like an ascending xylophone shooting throughout your body. The rhythmic stretches make you huff like a dog against him, brain fuzzy and overwhelmed. 

At the same time as he delivers killer grind after grind, another arm, the one that had been left out of the fray, slithers around your chest, looping twice around your frame and caging your breasts between them. Like bondage, except it’s Jungkook’s own body holding you down. 

You don’t think about the absurdity of it too much, couldn’t anyway. Your brain is a scrambled mess of Jungkook’s lips and incandescent eyes, lost in the purple galaxies and stars he holds, slowly slipping away from reality with each brutal thrust he gives. His name tumbles from your lips, and yours from his. He holds you like you’ll slip away, sweaty skin pulling you impossibly closer with each roll of his hips.

The thick appendage buried within your ass makes you squirm. It’s a tight fit, one you don’t get too stuck on because for every reprieve from its maniac thrusts you are met with the equally ferocious slam of Jungkook’s cock. So it stays in the back of your mind, this curling tentacle that stretches the tight rim of your ass apart. 

You were stuffed to the brim, eyes rolling back as you struggled to keep up. A soft brush along your jawline makes you gasp, before your mouth is tentatively filled with something soft and pulsing. Oh, you would die, you think, mindlessly sucking around the tentacle squeezed between your lips. It fattens in your mouth, pushes roughly against your tongue in rhythm with Jungkook’s cock. You cough, gag even, but it doesn’t move away. It drips a thick substance down your throat, disgustingly sweet. 

“Please, please,” he pants, quiet and lost among your own higher-pitched moans. Your leg hikes itself further up, accidentally brushes at the base of where two of his tentacles protrude, and Jungkook jolts against you. His cock presses so deep into your walls, you swear you feel him kiss your cervix. “__,” he pants, tongue lapping at the skin of your neck, picking up the sweat and replacing it with his thick saliva. “Be mine, please.”

Your heart pounds with the beat of a marching band's pace, loud thundering that competes against the slapping of Jungkook’s skin against yours. You whimper around the weight in your mouth, the idea he places in your head only fueling that lifelong dream of yours. Your grip around the appendages that hold your wrists down tightens, its faint heartbeat-like pulse felt between your fingers. 

“Let me be yours,” Jungkook moans, pulls out once only to slam his cock past your folds, hold himself there as your brain scrambles to rewire itself. As he says this, your mouth is freed, saliva and that sticky wet substance sloppily splattering across your lips and chin at the rather harsh exit. “And you will be mine.”

“Yes, yes!” you choke, dribbling drool down your chin.

It ends too soon.

Jungkook reaches a hand down, thumb feeling for your clit, but he’s pressed so tightly against you, it takes a second before the rough pad makes contact. That simple swipe, one half circle, is enough to make you unravel. “J-Jungkook,” you wail, biting down against his shoulder, “I’m—“

Your orgasm swallows you whole, his tentacle in your ass joining alongside you. It bursts inside of you, makes your ass leak with cum when it finally pulls out. 

“I’ve got you,” he shudders, stills when your pussy clenches down around him, creamy pleasure dripping down around his cock. Your cries fill the air, body falling slack against the couch as you struggle to recover. Your head is a foggy mess, clouded by the slow snap of Jungkook’s hips as he reaches his arousal. Each push against your folds feels even more intense now, overstimulated walls fluttering wildly around him as his cock slips in. 

His body stiffens and he swiftly pulls out, every ridge of his cock sucked back by your pussy, and when he finally frees himself— from your clenching walls and his tightly-gripping tentacle—he spills over your abdomen. Sticky and pink, like the strawberry lube you keep in your drawer, except its come out of Jungkook as a result of your rump in the sheets. 

As quickly as his body locked up, it slumps just as fast, heavy muscles and long limbs crashing down over you before you can react. 

“Jungkook—“

The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.

Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—

“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 

The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 

You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 

Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 

There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.

He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #alternative ending by rumu omits the last paragraph and we all pretend to live happily #but im evil so we suffer together #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[manonblaqkbeak]

Family Time

good morning/afternoon/evening/night. hope you’re all doing well and staying safe!!!! i have a rowaelin fic that i wanted to post before rowaelin month started since im focusing on those prompts atm

i cant wait to see what everyone has in store for rowaelin month, im very much looking forward to it!

enjoy! :)

1835 words

The day that Aelin had been looking forward to was finally here.

She and Rowan were going to spend a week in their spot in the forest. A week was longer than usual, but it was much needed. Not only had she and Rowan been working extremely hard to the point where they weren't going to bed until the middle of the night, his family was arriving to Orynth to visit for a few weeks in a week and a half.

And not just a few members of his family, almost the entire Whitethorn family was coming, with the exception of a few—namely Sellene, who would be gifting them with personal letters and presents, and those that were too old or just didn't feel like making such a long journey.

Aelin was looking forward to it, to meeting those she hadn't, to hearing others perspectives on Rowan's childhood. Her mate, however...not so much. Rowan was looking forward to catching up with the cousins that he liked, but not so much for the meddlesome ones. He warned her that whatever secrets that people were hiding wouldn't be secrets anymore, that the nosy ones liked to make a game to see who could learn the most secrets.

Aelin admitted that could be a problem, but in his letter, Enda claimed that everyone would be on their best behaviour.

Rowan wasn't entirely convinced. And not just because of that, he was worried that the conversation of when Aelin and Rowan were going to have children was going to be brought up as Rowan had written that they were forbidden from doing so.

Months ago, only several weeks after the war, after a meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen, Aelin and Rowan came to the decision to wait for a while to have children after Lord Gunnar had brought up the topic of heirs. Aelin could still remember the silence, at her speechlessness of how suddenly it was mentioned. How Rowan had turned to Lord Gunnar and demanded not just to him, but to everyone around them, that it was a private matter between the Queen and himself, and that it was not up for public discussion.

It wasn't a very long conversation—they both wanted to have a family, but Aelin wasn't ready. She was having nightmares from her time with Maeve and Cairn, and throwing pregnancy in the mix just screamed disastrous.

Rowan took her hands in his large warm ones and promised that he would wait for as long as she wanted. Whether it was one year, five years, or one hundred, he would wait until she was ready and willing.

Aelin had never loved him more.

Since then, Rowan was taking a contraceptive tonic. It hadn't taken very long for it to spread around the castle, but neither Aelin or Rowan would let others opinions change their minds.

And it wasn't like they were completely without family. They had their friends and Fleetfoot, with the canine joining them on their week long getaway.

Aelin and Rowan helped the servants set up the Royal tent and the square wooden table where they would be eating and playing chess and card games. There were a few books that Aelin was very much looking forward to reading, too.

Aelin was excited for this week away, to forgo her corsets, dresses, pants and breast-bands. She was determined to stay in Rowan's shirts and her slippers the entire time.

So the moment that everything was set up, the trays of sweet and savoury foods on the table, and the servants and guards were gone, Aelin stripped down to nothing, swaying her hips the way that Rowan liked when she spotted him drinking her in and slipped on one of his shirts and put on her well loved slippers.

Grabbing the picnic blanket from one of the chests, Aelin turned to see Fleetfoot sniffing hungrily at the trays of food, moving closer with each second that passed. Just as she was about to inhale the food, Rowan took the pup out of her misery and feed her a handful of sliced fermented sausage.

Aelin smiled at the sight. Rowan might grumble about the mess Fleetfoot made and how she kept slobbering on his pillow but Aelin knew he loved her—even when she ate his socks.

Aelin set up the blanket and pillows against a thick oak tree, ready for her week of relaxation.

X X X X X X

Aelin's stomach was near to bursting. She hadn't intended to eat that much food, since there was a leg of lamb and chopped root vegetables roasting in the cauldron above the fire, but everything was just too good to have just the once. She ate and ate until there was nothing but crumbs left.

She didn't regret it, however.

She was close to sleeping as Rowan ran a free hand through her scalp as he used the other to read. Her head was on his lap, the sun was warm, and from the happy yips that were coming from the woods, Fleetfoot was having a fun time running around.

Aelin glanced at her husband, his face relaxed as he read his book. And she had no idea why, but she found herself saying: “What would you look like with a beard?”

Rowan blinked, the only surprise he'd show at the question. “Like an old man,” he answered after a moment.

“You are an old man.”

He flicked her ear, and then went back to running his fingers through her scalp. “I grew a beard, once, when I was young. I looked like my father.”

“So you looked very handsome, then.” Rowan had taken up sketching in the quiet moments. He had drawn his parents and they were a very attractive couple. Rowan inherited his fathers hair, eyes, nose and sharp jawline, but got his mother's lips, cheekbones and eyebrows.

They had died long ago, but Aelin would have liked to have met them. Rowan said that they would have liked her, eventually, as he believed that they wouldn't have known what to do with her at first.

Aelin gave Rowan a big smile as the question formed in her mind. And since Rowan knew her so well, he said, “No.”

“You don't even know what I was going to say!” She protested, but it was a lie.

“I am not growing a beard.”

“Please, for me? Just a little one?”

“No.”

“How about some stubble?”

He sighed, exasperated, knowing that there was no point in arguing. “Fine. I'll grow some stubble and that's it.”

“Mm-hmm. Whatever you say, buzzard.”

He sighed again, but there was a small smile on his lips. He returned to his book, and telling her what it was about when Aelin asked. It made her heart swell that her warrior found time to read, as he admitted to her months ago that he never really had the opportunity when he was sworn to Maeve.

Not wanting to ruin today with thoughts of her, Aelin grabbed her own book by her pillow and read, luxuriating in Rowan's warmth and love and in the company of a good book.

X X X X X X

Aelin was losing, but she made sure that the irritation that was coursing through her didn't show on her face. Playing chess with an experience strategist was an absurd idea, but she was determined not to quit.

Rowan had been wanting for her to make her move. Had been waiting for fifteen minutes. Fleetfoot was by her feet, but she was just waiting for the roast lamb to be done.

Five minutes later, Aelin finally made her move. Her eyes flicked up towards Rowan, but his face was stone. He made his move in a blink of an eye. “Checkmate.”

Fire coated her throat as Aelin screeched in frustration, which just made Rowan laugh. Fleetfoot howled and ran off.

Aelin grumbled under her breath as she put away the chess board (for now, they would definitely be playing again once Aelin had more food in her stomach) while Rowan put their dinner on the plates, smiling all the while. Behind him, his mate vowed that she would beat him one day at chess. His smile widened.

Rowan knew that if he said he could beat her even with a blind-fold on, she would go on about how big his head was.

Fleetfoot came back, getting in the way of his feet as he put his and Aelin's dinner down. He gave Fleetfoot the plate reserved for her, using his powers to cool it down, not missing Aelin's soft smile as he did so.

They ate dinner in companionable silence, with Rowan's thoughts on his cousins. He was sure that he wasn't going to get a single thing done while they were visiting. Or if he did, he knew that some of his cousins would want to intrude.

Thinking about it more, he knew that they were going to intrude. Enda had written in-between the lines that there were some cousins that didn't really believe that Rowan was King-Consort and would only believe it once they saw him in action.

That they would actually believe once they saw him in his crown.

And even then, he was sure that there'd be at least one or two that still wouldn't believe it.

Rowan would let them think whatever they wanted about him, it wouldn't matter to him.

Maybe he should have just invited Enda and his mate—but Aelin was looking forward to meeting his family, so he would just deal with it.

It would only be a couple of weeks, possibly three. At best, four, since it was a long journey. He could last.

Rowan could do it, he would just have to block them out if they became too much. He had done that in the past.

“If you keep furrowing your brows like that, they'll replace your eyes,” Aelin said, slathering a fresh slice of bread with butter and running it through the left over gravy on her plate.

Rowan grunted but tried to relax his forehead. It took him a minute longer than it should have.

Later on, they went for a late night swim. Which was slowly turning into something more, up until Fleetfoot jumped into the water with them, saturating them further.

It was the best first day that Aelin could have asked for, and was very much looking forward to the rest of the week.

X X X X X X

Aelin woke up to one of her favourite sights. Rowan shirtless, sleeping on his stomach, his tattooed arm curled around Fleetfoot who slept between them all night. The hounds golden head half on Rowan's pillow, her paws stretching towards Aelin, her furry face soft in sleep.

Smiling, Aelin shuffled closer, and wrapped her own arms around the pup, her fingers just touching Rowan.

Joyful, Aelin fell back asleep, a smile still on her face.

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well) #just one of those days

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

#fic #deancas #destiel

[universallychaoticpan]

What I wouldn't give to stay like this

Armin x reader

Times like these were few and far between, when the scouts weren't in constant peril, running for their lives or outwitting the government. It was rare to just have moments like these, when he could sit in the silence of Hange's dusty libraries, reading over the books she'd let him borrow in his room, or laughing at Eren and Jean's faces as Captain Levi chewed them out for the umpteenth time that morning alone. But now, with the afternoon light that filtered through the windows dappling the quiet room in sun and shadow, he felt a warm kind of peace he hadn't known since the early days back Shiganshina. Sometimes he still longed for those days, painful though they were, when the most constant things in his life were the neighborhood bullies and Eren and Mikasa always being there when he needed them. Even though he felt slighted, weak even, he couldn't deny that he'd also felt safer than he did now. At least then he also had the comfort of the gargantuan walls that enclosed them, keeping them hidden from the view of the titans and at the same time, making it so they never had to see the awful brutes.

Of course, the wall falling brought pain, suffering, mourning and death. But no one in the walls was a true stranger to any of those things. They lived every day with the threat of the blade just above their heads, knowing it could fall, that the hammer could drop at any given time and when it did, they would be at the mercy of the same cruel world they'd spent a hundred years hiding from. Yes, the fall of wall Maria had brought untold anguish to his life. But selfishly, he was also glad it had happened. Because the same events that caused him to lose the only home, only family he had left, also brought him closer to the family he'd chosen. It had brought him to you.

You, who he'd seen for years around Shiganshina in his childhood, trailing behind your mother who held your tiny hand firmly but not unkindly as you toddled behind her through the town square. You, who'd used to ask the kinds of questions your teachers never really could answer, the ones about what was outside the walls, about the titans and why they'd even appeared. Secretly, he'd admired you for years, you boldness and candor as your teachers sputtered out the uniform answers to the questions you never really stopped asking. He remembered growing a little older, listening halfheartedly to Eren's impromptu freedom speeches, eyes carefully watching you walk, alone this time, through the square, haggling and speaking with the merchants with an easy smile. Oh, what he wouldn't give for you to smile at him that way. Even better, if he was the cause of the way your eyes lit up, the corners of your lips parting in a short laugh.

You, who he'd thought he'd never see again when the wall fell, when the colossal titan leered over the stones and the sounds of misery became far more than a memory. He remembered rushing past your house, deeper into the city, crushed with a large boulder the way Eren's was. Terrified, he watched from behind a pile of rubble as titans began rooting through the remains of what used to be your home, finally deciding you were beyond saving and tearing off to safety.

He'd accepted your fate as one of the many dead after the fall of Shiganshina all those years ago when he followed Eren and Mikasa into the 104 cadet corp, bound for all different branches of the military once they evolved from awkward teenagers into glorified titan fodder. He tried not to dwell on that part too much. It would break him to linger on it too much. Instead, he simply listened to the others as they stated their names, their hometowns- none of which had been ransacked by titans the way his home had. Beside him, Eren and Mikasa sharply did the same, before he too added his voice to the fray. As far as he knew, no other survivors from Shiganshina had given into the madness of actually seeing the titans devouring people whole and then join the military, embracing the possibility of facing them again.

He zoned out more than a little, matching the cities he was hearing to the few maps he'd seen

Karanse district

Trost district

Dauper village

Jinae village

Ragako village

Shiganshina

Wait-

Armin couldn't stop himself from doing a double take, eyes widening as he took you in for the first time in years. Your features were more drawn, more defined, having lost the softness childhood had afforded you, your eyes darker with sorrow, your mouth set in a dead serious line so different than the lively smile he'd grown up seeing. You'd grown up, same as he had. But that didn't change the fact that you were here. You were alive. And for the first time in years, he felt the flutter of hope, of giddy infatuation, both thins he thought he'd released years before, when he resigned himself to simply mourning the girl he never knew.

But now, as if back from the dead, you had miraculously appeared once again. And Armin wasn't about to let his chance go to waste.

He started talking to you, finally, tentatively sharing memories from Shiganshina, your reactions betraying your surprise, but also your eagerness to hear from someone else who spoke about Shiganshina past the tragedy that had occurred there years ago. You began to seek him out, sparring with him in training, laughing and chatting with Eren and Mikasa at dinner while Armin tried to combat the blush he knew was dusting his cheeks as he watched your eyes come alive again.

The four of you found little pieces of home in each other, and for once, it didn't feel like a terrible reminder. Instead, it felt like a comfort to know that you were all still here, and fighting for someone. Eren, avenging his mother, freedom at the forefront of his mind at all times. Mikasa, always ready to fight beside those she loved. Armin, who at last wanted to prove he could stand shoulder to shoulder with the people who knew him better than anyone else in the hell of a world they lived in, and you, advancing every day for the lives of your family who, like Eren, you'd seen die at the hands of titans before someone ripped you away towards safety.

Eren and Mikasa found strength in each other. You and Armin found a new kind of solace. When you found those simple moments apart from the world, it almost felt like you could afford to be normal teenagers, laughing flirtatiously and bursting at the seams with a whorl of emotion. He'd read to you from his books, you would listen attentively, asking those same questions that had peaked his interest in you all those years before.

And now, in the quiet of Hange's library, with the other remaining 104 scouts out helping with Eren's titan experiments, there was a new feeling of understanding that came over you both as you tripped over your own feet, alamost taking him down with you.

He caught your hand.

He pulled you in.

Your breath left you suddenly, faces inches apart.

And there, painted in dusky golds and purple shadow, your lips met, petal soft and light as a summer breeze.

What he wouldn't have given to stay in a moment like that forever.

//////

Thanka for reading my work! Likes, reblogs, comments and requests are always appreciated and welcome <3

#aot x reader fluff #snk x reader #armin arlert #armin x reader #mutual pining #snk x reader fluff #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #light angst #angst to fluff