#and idk the fact that i have been tapping into writing fic again feels like maybe a good sign?

[romanitas]

i may or may not have started a whole brand new fic for the first time in literal years

but with my track record and inability to finish things i feel like i should see if i can keep up the energy first before i breathe any of it into the world 😔

[gyumazing]

Hi author-nim! I really liked your previous fic with Jungwon, the one where he was about to go out having love marks all over his neck. I liked how fluffy and calm it was and I was wondering if maybe u could write this situation I had in my mind ^^ Like, imagine you were sleeping soundly at night while hugging your pillow then you heard somebody grunting, but you didn't mind it at first. You hugged your pillow closer and tighter, but to your surprise, it was actually Jungwon you were hugging hfhfihfessi. Idk if u take requests but if you don't, just don't mind this ask hehe.

OMG MY FIRST ASK! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS. YES, I DO TAKE REQUESTS.

-

Human Pillow

In the quiet stillness of the night, you heard a faint grunting sound, but your mind was caught in a dreamy haze. Seeking solace, you clutched your pillow closer, yearning for the warmth and comfort it could offer amidst the cold and lonely bed. Yet, to your surprise, you felt something amiss—a breath, almost gasping, buried deep in your neck, and a struggling sensation against your embrace. Your eyes fluttered open, and there he was—Jungwon, your beloved.

In a moment of realization, you immediately released your hold, concern etched across your face. "Won?" you uttered, your voice filled with confusion and worry. He gently tapped your head, trying to soothe you back to sleep, but the weight of the situation pulled you fully awake. You couldn't ignore the fact that the man you love, who had been sleeping on the couch for three days following an argument, was now lying beside you, breathless from your accidental grasp.

"No, I can't just go back to sleep," you whispered, your heart aching for the time lost between you both. "Won, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll try my best not to talk to Harua as much."

As you cupped his cheeks, you felt the warmth of his skin under your touch, and you could sense his silent nod, understanding the sincerity in your words. His eyes softened, reflecting the love he held for you, and he spoke gently, "No, Love. I'm sorry. I know Harua is your friend, and I shouldn't let jealousy get the best of me. From now on, I'll trust you completely, and I'll do my best to be the partner you deserve."

Jungwon's hand found its way to your waist, and his fingers interlocked with yours, his touch sending shivers of affection through your body. His other hand gently caressed your shoulder, creating a cocoon of warmth around you. It was as if he had become your protective blanket, enveloping you in love and care.

As the moonlight danced upon his features, he leaned in, brushing his lips tenderly against your forehead, leaving a trail of soft kisses. "I missed you," he whispered, the words dripping with sincerity and adoration.

"I missed you too," you murmured, feeling a lump in your throat. The distance between you both over those few days had been agonizing, and you vowed to cherish every moment with him from then on.

Throughout the night, you stayed wrapped in each other's arms, speaking softly. The room filled with an aura of tenderness and passion, as the love between you both flourished.

As you lay there wrapped in each other's arms, Jungwon couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You know, I always thought you were an enthusiastic hugger, but this was taking it to a whole new level," he teased, giving you a playful eyebrow raise.

You couldn't help but laugh too, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that the tension between you both had turned into a light-hearted moment. "I guess I just missed you so much that I unconsciously tried to keep you close," you admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Well, note to self: never disturb your sleep when you're hugging your pillow again," Jungwon joked, and you playfully swatted his arm.

[awakandanavenger]

Hello! If you have the time, may I ask for a Natasha x former avenger reader fic? It takes place two years after endgame and Natasha and Tony are brought back to life by the power of science and magic (Idk maybe Strange and Banner worked together to bring them back, you decide how) and Natasha finds out reader went down a dark path from grief of losing Nat and has been doing vigilante stuff like how Clint was doing when being ronin. And she finds her and knocks some sense into her and it��s a tearful reunion?

Come To Your Senses (Natasha x g!nReader)

Summary: Natasha and Tony are brought back to life. Nat finds you while you're continuing Barton's mission as Ronin. She has to knock the sense into you to stop and come home.

Word Count: 768 (Still short but still longer than the last one)

Warnings - Mentions of reader being criminal but not sure if there is anything else? Let me know if there is.

A/N - As for the person who requested this, sorry it took so long to write, university is keeping me busy but any other requests you guys want to send I'll do as soon as I can! Remember ya'll, NO SMUT REQUESTS!

It has been two years since Thanos was defeated and honestly… I couldn’t care less if the world is safe once again. I have nothing left worth protecting now that she is gone. In fact, I do not care to the point where I’ve took it upon myself to continue Barton’s mission from during the time of the blip. I hunt down and slaughter every criminal I can find. At least then there would be some satisfaction for the world, and me.

Just now I am waiting to ambush a gang of criminals. They have been drug dealing and the usual shit. Still. They kill people who try and stop them so it is up to me to stop them if no one else can. I take my sword from my waist belt. But just as I am about to run inside and complete my mission, a finger taps my shoulder and I whirl around with sword aimed ready to attack whoever it was that tapped me but who I saw made me drop my sword with a loud clang. Luckily, none of the criminals inside heard.

“What are you doing here?” She asks. “No. Not possible. You’re dead.” I say not believing who is right in front of me. It’s my imagination surely! “It’s really me. I’m back. So is Tony.” I step forward to her and gently feel the locks of her red hair. “You’re real? But how?” “Bruce and Dr Strange came together and found a way to bring us both back to life.” Wait, what if this is a trick? What if this is a shapeshifter and is finding a way to get to me to kill me? I have made a lot of enemies over the last two years, so it is possible.

“You’re hesitant which is understandable.” “Damn straight. For all I know, you’re not really Nat.” She raises her eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “Well, for all I know, you could be a shapeshifter. Those exist.” “Well, I’m not that. When they brought me back my first thought was to find you. Bruce told me everything that’s been going on and where to find you. That’s how I knew.” It is true. Nat was always protective of me but still, everyone knew that. Then I got an idea. “Okay, if you really are Nat and not a shifter. What was the first moment we both shared when we realised we belonged together?” Only the real Nat would know. “The first moment we shared together was that night when I had a nightmare about the Red Room. You rushed to comfort me, and it was the sound of your heartbeat that lulled me back to sleep. The next morning you said if the sound of your heartbeat helps me sleep, you’d gladly stay forever.” It’s true. That was our first real moment that I admitted to myself that I’d love and take care of her from that point on.

Now that I am certain she is the real Natasha, I wonder why she even came back for me in the first place. “Okay, so my question to you Nat is why are you even here? Surely Bruce or Strange must know what I’ve been… am doing.” “That’s exactly the reason I came to find you. To stop you continuing your ‘mission’. Clint did the exact same thing but even he was able to put his dangerous behaviour aside when he got his family back.” “What? And you’re expecting me to do the same now that you’re back?” “I don’t expect you to do anything. It is your choice. I just hope you make the right one. If you do, I’ll be at the Avengers tower.”

That got me thinking. So, if I am understanding this correctly, she will take me back if I stop killing criminals. Hmm, I suppose I could change the mission so they get arrested instead because no way in hell am I stopping completely. Plus, if the Avengers get back together, that way in a way, my mission can continue but in the right way.

Just as Nat was about to leave, I grabbed her hand, and she stops. “You’re right.” And I explain my thoughts of wanting to continue but in the right way. Surprisingly, she agrees. “So, you’ll come back home?” She asks me. I sigh knowing she’s going to keep finding me until I agree to go back. “Sure.” I speak. In all honesty, I can’t believe I am going back, with Natasha no less. It’s enough to make us both cry of happiness knowing.

Hope you all liked this one! Don't forget, I still take requests and Nat isn't the only character I accept requests for. There is also Wanda Maximoff, Shuri, Queen Ramonda, Nakia and Okoye! NO SMUT AS MENTIONED! Hope to see your requests soon! :)

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Reborn Again (and again and again)

(Sanzu's bday fic with tones of angst)

(Bonten HaruMai)

It's been a while since I posted my fics here bc no spoons kept my away of tumblr ( I'm gonna try to post all of them and they are always on ao3!)

But.... Sanzu Haruchiyo birthday seems like the perfect occasion for this!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LIL PINK GREMLIN, I LOVE YOU DEARLY AND YOU DESERVE THE WORLD! (but I'm gonna give you angst and a lap full of Mikey, oopsie?)

(link to ao3 in case someone wants to read it there)

Summary: Sanzu remembers his last birthday, bittersweet memories that keep his delusions afloat.

And of course, he'll never lose his faith in his king.

(even when Mikey's eyes are completely devoid of all emotion)

Warnings: Manga Spoilers (Bonten timeline, so yeah), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Suicide, Mental Health Issues (issues is an understatement xD), Toxic Codependent Relationship, Heavily Depressed Mikey, Burn Out Sanzu, Unrequited Delusional Love, and idk, is Bonten they are so totally not fine and it shows, okay?

Yeah, this fic is an emotional roller coaster, it felt like it writing it and is not less of it as a reader (or I've been told that). Oh, Sanzu is sad and horny bc you can't tell me Bonten Mikey has energy to fuck (or live)

There is a part of the fic inspired on this art, bc Mikey sleeping on Haru's lap is for some reason precious to me 💜

Sanzu was bored, his feet kept tapping the ground, his mind drifting far away from here. He should be paying attention to his surroundings, guarding the building where his king was. 

Instead, he was lost in the memories of his last birthday, almost one year ago. Wondering if it would be different this time, if Mikey remembered his promise. He shook his head, immediately feeling guilty for daring to doubt it. Of course he did, Sanzu was only feeling insecure, nothing new. 

(He had to repeat it as many times as necessary, to convince himself that Mikey’s eyes had not been completely devoid of all emotion for more than a month)

To be fair, the fact that Hangaki didn’t represent any type of threat to his king, wasn’t helping him focus on the present or to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the previous year.

Sanzu was having a shitty day. That wasn’t exactly unusual lately, he had become more and more tired during the last years few months. Exhausted would be the right word, but he couldn’t afford to rest, to even entertain the possibility that he should delegate some of his responsibilities to others if he didn’t want to end up completely burned out. But of course, he couldn't trust anyone else to perform his duties, so Sanzu was forced to continue stretching himself thin.

(If he was more honest with himself, he could admit that he had been falling apart for way too long. But he wasn’t, he couldn’t)

Whatever. He was used to it. He’s handled this weariness before — today wasn’t unique. He was a grown ass man, who definitely wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because everyone forgot it was his birthday. And twenty-seven wasn’t a memorable number either, so who cared? 

This was just Sanzu being salty, tonight's job took up more time than he anticipated, so he had to see Takeomi’s ugly face for way too long. Yeah, it was totally unrelated to the pang of jealousy he felt when he overheard the older man explaining to Kakucho how this week was special, since the anniversary of Senju’s death was close. He wasn’t that pathetic, to hold a grudge because, even now, his sister kept hogging all the attention.

(What sister? Sanzu was an only child, his own mind was playing tricks to him again)

He sighed, using his own set of keys to open the door of Mikey’s penthouse and trying to be as silent as possible. He was fully aware his king wouldn’t be sleeping — it was getting harder each day to convince him to even try it.

It was better to be quiet anyway, at least, until he had a clue of which mood he was going to find. Would it be one of those days of empty glares and cold words, where he was only ‘Sanzu’? Or…

“Haruchiyo?”

A weak whisper, but more than enough for him to quickly locate the source. Mikey was sitting on the sofa, completely in the dark except for the dim light that came through the window, proving the outside world was still there, uncaring and merciless. 

“Hey… I’m back.”

His heart sank when he got closer, finally noticing Mikey’s puffy eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to comfort him, caress his beautiful face and erase any trace of pain in it. But he knew better. Years of walking on broken glass around his lover taught him better.

(Was ‘lover’ the right word? When he had to repress his own feelings, pretending there was no love in order to stay by Mikey’s side? Probably not)

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked cautiously, sitting on the nearest armchair. Mikey blinked a couple of times, looking at him in awe, almost like he was processing that Sanzu was really here.

“I thought you wouldn’t come tonight.” 

There was no point in reminding him that he could just text or call —that no matter what he was doing, Sanzu would leave it in a heartbeat to run to his king's side. Mikey was fully aware of it, but he refused to show this type of weakness.

“I’ll always come back to you, Mikey.”

He gave him a soft smile, hoping it was somehow reassuring. It seemed to work, considering the next moment he had a lap full of Mikey, wrapping his arms around Haruchiyo’s neck and hiding his face in it. He didn’t have to think twice before hugging him back and gently pulling the thin body closer.

“I’m sorry, the deal took longer than I thought.” 

A noncommittal hum was the only answer he received,  another sign that Mikey cared less every day about his own organization. It was fine, Sanzu could keep the gears turning and perfectly greased, waiting until his king was ready to step back in the game and take what was rightfully his. 

“But I’m here now, I’m right here…” 

His voice dripped with affection, his touch conveying the same feeling as he started to play with the white locks. The soft caresses spoke louder than the words he’ll never say. It was fine — he was good at hiding parts of himself, burying it with all his secrets.

(So many secrets, weighing him more every day, slowly drowning him until he couldn’t recognize his own reflection)

“You are.” Mikey finally lifted his head, looking at him like he was trying to figure out something. “Even if this morning…”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” 

It was a lie, they both knew it. Of course he remembered how detached his king had been, how disgusted he looked by his weak attempt at cuddling. The cold voice, clearly commanding him to disappear from his sight. ‘Don’t you have work to do, Sanzu?’

It was a lie, one of the many he carefully crafted for Mikey’s sake. There was no need to dwell on it when Sanzu wanted to comfort him, not burden him with guilt. Especially when the cause was his own inability to hide his stupid hopes and desires. 

“Apparently about nothing.”

“Yep, nothing at all.” He repeated, softly brushing a strand of hair out of Mikey’s eyes and kissing his forehead, earning a simper in return.

Wait, what? A smile? A coy one, small and probably easy to miss for anyone else. But not for him, Sanzu was able to spot the most subtle change in his king’s expression, and this wasn’t subtle. A genuine smile on Mikey’s face? And thanks to him? 

Sanzu’s inner turmoil disappeared. The fatigue that he constantly carried with him was gone too. Just like that, a simple gesture from his king, made everything better, all the problems more than worth it as long as it meant protecting these rare moments of happiness.

(A necessary reminder of why he kept fighting, always so restless, refusing to let go, reinventing himself over and over)

He leaned in to cross the small distance between their lips, kissing him slowly, wanting to savor the moment. There was no rush for once, and even if he longed for more, even if his body reacted to the closeness and the familiar taste, he knew too damn well Mikey’s libido had been practically nonexistent lately. 

No matter how much he yearned to go further, he’d take whatever his king offered to him without presumptions. For now, Sanzu was content with the way Mikey’s lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore freely. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning inside the kiss, realizing he sounded too desperate. 

Damn it, when was the last time they actually had sex? He couldn’t recall when it was, but he could clearly see the memories – the way Mikey whimpered in his ear, his body pressed against the shower wall… 

Fuck, he had to calm down before his own neediness tarnished this moment doing something stupid — Like pressing Mikey’s warm body down onto his growing erection, bucking his hips slightly, rubbing himself just enough to feel the friction against that tight ass he adored so much… Stop it, brain!

“Sorry…”

Sanzu pulled away from the kiss with a flustered face, looking at Mikey with glossy eyes and pressing their foreheads together, still catching his breath. 

“Why are you apologizing, Haruchiyo?” There was a sad undertone in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. “It’s me, I can’t even give you that, you should…” 

“Don’t go there.” He gently placed a finger in front of the other’s lips. “I don’t need it, okay? I can live perfectly fine without fucking.”

“But you want it.” Mikey deadpanned. 

“Of course I do, because you’re gorgeous and I can’t help feeling attracted to you.” He gave him a soft peck. “And that’s on me, you don’t owe me anything, alright? Having you in my arms like this is already the best birthday gift I could ever wish for.”

“What?!” 

“Nothing.” It was too late — he knew as soon as he saw Mikey’s eyes widening in a mix of surprise and clarity.

“Fuck, it’s July… That’s not nothing!” He groaned in frustration. “Did you get to celebrate it at least?” 

Judging by the way Mikey looked at him, the answer to this was probably written in his face. That was the exact reason why he didn’t tell him, to absolve him of the guilt, to prevent him from falling deeper into self-loathing. 

“It’s okay, we can still celebrate it together if you want-”

“It's not even your birthday anymore.” 

His rage was icy cold, Sanzu was sure the temperature of the whole room dropped a few degrees. Suddenly he was freezing, despite the anger not being directed at him for once. 

“Then we don’t? It’s not a big deal, really, there will be other occasions. It happens every year, right?” His gaze stared at him with disbelief. “What? I’m serious, I don’t need some fancy ass shit, this is already perfect.”

“Haruchiyo…” Whatever his king wanted to say, the way Sanzu hugged him tighter seemed to change his mind. Instead, he sighed, burying his face on the crook of his neck. “Fine. Next year?”

“Next year it is.” 

He started to stroke his hair once again, wanting to leave this conversation behind. It was true, his day got infinitely better the moment Mikey sat on his lap and hugged him. Sanzu couldn’t ask for more, because there was nothing but him.

“I won’t forget it, I promise.” 

Sanzu gasped at the honesty in those words, a lump in his throat that threatened to make him cry, touched by his king making a promise to him. It wasn’t going to happen, he couldn’t put his own burden on Mikey, it was his to bear alone. 

(Alone and isolated inside of his own mind)

“I know you won’t Mikey, I believe in you.” 

He whispered with raw devotion. He will never lose his faith in Mikey, because as long as his king kept breathing… Everything was possible. 

Sanzu smiled softly, melting slightly with the memory of how Mikey ended falling asleep on his lap, of how he made sure to stay still, to not interrupt the other’s dreams. If he closed his eyes, he could see how perfect Mikey looked when he woke up hours later, well rested for once. The way his face lit up when he saw that Sanzu was still there, hugging him for hours and making sure he was comfortable. He could even feel the lingering sensation of his lips on his own… Damn it, how could he miss Mikey so much when they were almost living together?

(It was due to Mikey fading in front of him, disappearing somewhere out of his reach. No, he couldn’t admit that)

He sighed, frustrated with himself. He was doing it again, yearning instead of being grateful for what he was given. 

A sudden change in the white noise from nearby pedestrians forced him to snap out of his inner turmoil. He lifted up his head, scanning the surroundings to find the source of the commotion. 

Sanzu’s eyes widened with panic, the world went silent. Except for the echo of his own delusions shattering into thousand pieces, ringing in his ears for a split second that lasted for ages.

“Mikey?!!”

[bloomingcockroaches]

holding my hands out to you like a starving cold orphan boy fairweather friends directors commentary Perchance I reread it again and it still drives me craaaaaaaazy

anything for you of course!! i'm so flattered that you have returned to this fic so many times 😭 i'm very proud of it!!

Fairweather Friends by bloomingcockroaches (babilonium)

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom - A. C. Crispin

Relationship: Hector Barbossa/Jack Sparrow

Characters: Jack Sparrow, Hector Barbossa

Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Pre-Canon, Drunk Sex, May/December Relationship, Developing Relationship, Hook-Up, Explicit Consent

Words: 5,904

Summary: Five times Barbossa had Jack against a wall, and one time on the floor OR Five times Captains Sparrow and Barbossa crossed swords, and one time it was strictly business.

Director's Commentary

-> the little epithets at the opening of every chapter come from Everything Goes to Hell by Tom Waits, which is the song that first inspired me to start writing this fic. like most Tom Waits songs it has a very sleazy/tragicomedic kind of romance to it, which is exactly the vibe i wanted to capture in this fic. lots of tom waits songs have made their way on my sparrossa playlists over the years because this vibe in general is very apt for them.

-> the name of the clipper 20-year-old jack has spent 8 months serving on, the Daedalus, is from greek myth. Daedalus was Icarus' father and also the architect of the labyrinth that housed the minotaur.

Jack finds him leaning against the bar at the One Eyed Crow, tapping a tune against the hilt of his sword with his fingers. He is forty if he's a day, tall and wiry, his face weathered by a lifetime at sea. He wears his hair down to his shoulders, pulled back from his face, and a gold hoop in each ear. Despite the modesty of his origins and the butchery of his profession, he has an aristocratic bearing, and amid so low a den of thieves he is positively debonair. Jack approaches him with all the unearned confidence that youth and beauty can afford, with a tankard of ale in each hand.

-> i'm still very fond of this description of a younger barbossa, i think it's accurate and evocative. also a fun fact that i'm not sure if anyone picked up on is that i made barbossa twenty years jack's senior, making him exactly double his age when they first meet. going by actor's ages, in cotbp, jack is just shy of 40 and barbossa is 50. but barbossa has been dead for 10 years, meaning that he was 50 ten years ago when he marooned jack on rum runner's island. so, in reality, he is 60, but spent his last 10 years not aging at all.

i love this detail both because i love 20-year age gaps and because i'm obsessed with the impact it would have on their relationship that jack is "catching up" to barbossa in his age. they went from having a 20 year age gap to a 10 year age gap. i'm sure it rubs jack the wrong way (he's vain and terrified of death, his age is a sore and delicate subject) and amuses barbossa greatly.

"Welcome to the Caribbean, lad," he hisses in his ear, and leaves him weak kneed and bleary eyed to hold up the tavern wall on his lonesome.

-> this is one of my favorite little tidbits in this fic because it's what jack says to elizabeth on rum runner's island when she's heartbroken and disappointed in him

giving that line this particular backstory felt and feels so gross, i love it... that jack would think of meeting his own hero in that moment of their own first intimacy... [prolonged wicked cackling]

this is also a great time to point out that jack and elizabeth are exactly twenty years apart when they meet as well :^)

-> i did a lot of research into the locations for this fic and looked at a lot of 17th century maps to determine where they might bump into one another. idk if that sort of thing really matters to people, because idk the overlap of people reading sparrossa fanfiction in the 2020s and people who are familiar with 17th century colonial place names in the caribbean sea, but it helped me get a solid sense of time and place while writing and imo makes the world feel more concrete and developed.

Jack doesn't mind being on his knees, not on the worst of days, but there's an edge of victory to being on his knees here, now, in front of him. Myth and legend go a long way on the sea and among sea faring folk; there's something tantalizing about meeting the men behind them in the flesh.

-> more of the parallel between jack/barbossa and elizabeth/jack that i really liked exploring here, especially because elizabeth is smarter and more guarded than jack was at her age, and jack is just not as good a pirate as barbossa is at any age, though he's built an equivalent (if not larger) mythos for himself

"Heard you've called yourself Sparrah," he sneers, "Jack Sparrow, is it?" Jack can't take his eyes off his mouth. "Aye," he says. "What was it I heard the harbormaster call you? Horatio? Horace? Hornby?" "Hector," he growls, "and I'll thank ye not to get too familiar. Lest ye forget yourself." "God forbid we should become friendly." "God forbid."

-> i'm very pleased with how i stylized barbossa's accent in this fic, because i think we all agree that spelling someone's pronunciation out phonetically for every word is extremely annoying. i also have always held that jack named himself "sparrow" and the stupid backstory they gave him for that name in potc5 made me irrationally angry... i mean everything about that movie made me really upset but that was a highlight for sure. it felt good establishing this here! especially because jack was using his given surname, Teague, until some point between chapter 1 and 2 of this fic

The third time finds Jack skint broke, rum soaked, and lovesick, on St. Mary's Island.

-> this is the first sentence i ever wrote for this fic! chapter 3 was the first section i wrote, and probably my favorite

"Unfortunately for that funny little man what left me strung up and left for dead, I am a hard man to kill," says Jack, "to the eternal torment of those what might wish me otherwise." (...) "She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, Hector," he says at some point, between one application of his mouth and the next, "and she's gone isn't she? Took 'er just because he could." "Aye, and I'm a poor substitute I'd imagine," says Barbossa, and flips him on his belly. "No, you're just what I needed, mate," says Jack, and presses his face down into the poor excuse for a mattress, lest he think too long on his bonny lass, resting at the bottom of the sea, looking up at the underside of the waves.

-> i knew i wanted to include the backstory with beckett and the wicked wench, and i like how i did it in this chapter. subtle enough that if you didn't already know what i was referencing, it probably isn't that obvious. but very clear if you already know!

jack talks a lot about being in love with the Pearl, and i liked playing with this pillow talk in a way where barbossa could easily assume jack was talking about a woman when he was talking about her

"You make a lot of enemies, Ja - aaa - ack," says Barbossa, the vowel stretching like a cat in the sun, "'s no way to live." "Hasn't been a way to die just yet."

-> this description of how barbossa stretches out jack's name was a random snippet i wrote in a notebook somewhere many many years ago and it was so great finding a real place for it after all that time

"Insolent little chit," says Barbossa, "Alive enough to smarm means alive enough to settle your tab, which settles the first and last of my concern over the matter."

-> i chose this insult specifically because it refers to a defiant/brash young girl, and i like the idea of barbossa talking down to jack in that specifically gendered way, both because of his "womanly airs" and his youth ("womanly airs" here used in the specific historical context)

"Charming company you are," says Jack. "Not one that's bein' forced upon ye," says Hector. He sounds tired; weary in a way Jack never would have expected of him. He bites his tongue against the feeling in his chest that might resemble worry, but not before a shade of it runs past his lips. "I heard about the Cobra, mate, I'm sorry," he says, looking out into the common room at anything that isn't his tablemate. He'd planned on returning the courtesy paid to him on St. Mary's and avoid mention of Hector's misfortune almost entirely, but his mouth had run on ahead of him before he could catch it. "Spare me your pity." "Wouldn't worry about that, Hector, you don't even have my sympathy," he says as the barmaid drops off his ale and his stew (which he doesn't fail to notice is mostly broth) before running off again. "Found myself with business in the neighborhood, is all."

-> another piece of tPoF lore that i was happy to include here. again, vaguely enough that it could mean nothing to you, but if you know you know! i really love the juxtaposition of both these men coming to find one another when they had lost their ships and their captaincy.

being a ship's captain in potc-verse is very far removed from any historical reality in that every captain owns his own ship, mans his own crew, etc. but it's a huge part of every captain's identity in each case, and it's clearly established in the series lore. i liked exploring how these two would show up for one another at their lowest points. because of course barbossa did very pointedly go looking for jack after he lost the wench. i also like that jack is trying very hard to offer him the kind of support that he was offered just a few short years ago and he fails.

Lean times don't suit Barbossa, if only that Jack doesn't care for how he wears them. There is a troubling hunger to him now that speaks less to his frame and more to his soul. The edge of cruelty he'd always had in him had sharpened in a way Jack felt would make it much more difficult to skirt around.

-> idk if i have anything to add here i'm just very fond of this characterization. overall it was very fun and rewarding to write about barbossa from the perspective of a man hopelessly in love with him because, well, that's an easy frame of mind to enter

"I'm headed to Aruba after this," says Jack between mouthfuls, "t'go see a man about a horse. Or else... por darle gato por liebre. To put it another way. Could do with some time in the West Indies as it were, after all that on the Cantabrique." He glances over at Barbossa to give him the chance to ask the polite question. He doesn't. "I've been near Spain," Jack says anyway. Then, after a moment, "met a witch there, actually." Barbossa doesn't look too interested about the witch. Which is his loss anyway, because there had been plenty interesting about her. For a long while Jack talks and Hector doesn't. He talks about having found passage to Madagascar, and then to Clew Bay, before sailing to the Mediterranean. He's met a mermaid since they last spoke, the second he's run into and the more pleasant of the two. Met a princess as well, who was more pleasant than the mermaid but less interesting than her prince. You'll never guess where the witch came into all that.

-> just highlighting this because i was serious before, i did a lot of geographic research for this fic. also polyglot jack sparrow forever!!!

He lays in her bed as the night deepens around them with her curled into his side, his fingers in her pale hair. He thinks that it is good to be back at something that comes so easily to him. Jack doesn't care to be reminded of the things that don't, and this little excursion had been an amalgam of them.

-> as mentioned previously, i really like exploring jack's sense of personal failure here, of wanting to be there for someone he cares deeply about and not being able to do that

generally, the tension of jack's emotional investment in his relationship with barbossa vs. barbossa's investment in his relationship with jack, and the very clear upset of balance there, is something i find really interesting and sad to explore.

gibbs says in cotbp that jack plays things a bit closer to the chest now and that lifelong hurt from barbossa's betrayal is what really shapes my own understanding of jack as a character and of who he was before cotbp

He is only a few dozen steps up from shore when he sees former Captain Hector Barbossa leaning against exactly the building he's heading towards, under the wood placard that reads Jansen & Sons. His wide brimmed hat casts his face in shadow, and there's an edge to his smile that makes Jack feel like he's walking into something. Whatever it is, there's something not unlike a friend in the middle of it, which in a shrewder man would have raised suspicion and which in Jack Sparrow melts suspicion away.

-> and there he is again!!! letting his deeply held affections erase his self preservation instinct. another jack/barbossa elizabeth/jack parallel :3

Barbossa wears his nails long, which Jack's had little reason to notice until now, when they rake over his skin as his hands pin him down, lift him up, turn him over. There are scratches all over his thighs, his back, his shoulders, and four long bloodied trails over each of his hips where he was most ardently pulled forward. Himself he's not one for biting or scratching but he can't play the tease. He's too eager for it, too hungry to reciprocate, too lost in the ardor of coming together after so long apart and so long a stint of rough seas. If the intentionality of it had been suggested in the past this was it boiling over. It's near midday when they fall into bed together and past dusk when finally they roll apart, tired and content.

-> is it uncouth to mention this sort of thing in your director's commentary? idk and idc. the image of those eight long scratches dug into jack's hips is another random snippet that i've had somewhere in my head for many years, and it was once again a treat to find a home for it here.

barbossa isn't the only member of the Pearl's undead crew who wears his nails long, i think most if not all of them do (have you seen the clip of Lee Arenberg talking about how proud he is of the nails that he grew out au naturale? 🥰) but it's always made sense to me that barbossa kept his nails long before and after the curse. it's a very ~gentleman of fortune~ well bred foppish dandy thing to do.

Jack wakes up to the early morning sun coming through the open window; sober, well rested, and alone. He feels a fool for doing a double take around the room to make certain that he is. What might have been a pleasant soreness under nobler circumstances gnaws at him instead. The scratches on his body have turned to raised white lines and begun to scab over where they broke through his skin. He gets up and crosses the room, where he turns the little mirror above the water basin to look at the damn mess that's been made of his neck. His skin blooms in rings of blue and pink, some teeth marks pressed into the meat of his shoulder too deep and too angry to be mistaken for a wench's affection. His throat hurts. His back aches. He feels well worn in a way that makes him feel too much like a fishwife, kissed silly and left to languish at port. He gets dressed, pulls his collar up as high as he can get it, and makes his way downstairs. He chastises himself over a plate of rubbery eggs for his attachments, and gets on the first ship that can carry him off Nassau and out onto open waters.

-> i personally find this to be a very successful gut-punch after a good amount of build up. it made me sad to write and makes me sad to reread. would that our dear jack was in love with a better man.

i think after a lot of coming and going that jack convinces himself suits his fancy, it becomes very clear to him very quickly that it could be different, but it won't be.

i actually think that the 2 years he spent captaining the pearl with barbossa as his first mate were some of the happiest of his life because of that consistency.

All said, Jack's in the middle of a rather trying day, filled more so with avoiding people and things he doesn't want to cross paths with than with finding the one man whose path he has plans to cross. It's just past dusk when he stumbles out of the Rusted Sextant (where he'd stopped only briefly and only to ask for directions) and across the street towards The Broken Spyglass, a tavern on the North side of the island run by a Moroccan gentleman named Souhail who Jack is reasonably certain won't tell anyone what don't need telling that he's stopped by.

-> every single bar, brothel, or other such establishment named in this fic was named by my dear friend @grosskelly who i bothered repeatedly to provide me such things and who knocked it outta the park every time i harassed them for suggestions

"As ye like, but there's something else I've got that you'll want me to share." Then, very quickly, to outrun the onset of his wolfish expression, "Somethin' entirely unique and as yet unheard of."

-> of all the jack dialogue in this fic, both inner and outer, this is the line that i can hear most clearly in his voice, where i think i captured a specific cadence and affect that could've been in the original trilogy

this was SO FUN TO DO!!!!! i really hope some of it was interesting. thank you for your ask and for liking my fic :,)

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

When the Longing Returns (Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) || Erik x Christine

Ch. 1 Author's Notes

Read the Fic here on tumblr or on AO3

First things first! The Title! I'm terrible at titling fics (It's one of a multitude of reasons I don't write more). This one is taken from the lyrics of "Sister of Night" by Depeche Mode

One of my top ten DM songs without a doubt.

Sister of night

When the hunger descends

And your body's a fire

An inferno that never ends

An eternal flame

That burns in desires name...

Sister of night

When the longing returns

Giving voice to the flame

Calling you through flesh that burns

Breaking down your will

To move in for the kill...

Oh sister, come for me

Embrace me, assure me

Hey sister, I feel it too

Sweet sister, just feel me

I'm trembling, you heal me

Hey sister, I feel it too...

Sister of night

In your saddest dress

As you walk through the light

You're desperate to impress

So you slide to the floor

Feeling insecure...

Sister of night

With the loneliest eyes

Tell yourself it's alright

He'll make such a perfect prize

But the cold light of day

Will give the game away

Oh sister, come for me

Embrace me, assure me

Hey sister, I feel it too

Sweet sister, just feel me

I'm trembling, you heal me

Hey sister, I feel it too...

I think the lyrics speak for themselves. This song speaks to such a specific scenario, and one that seems to match up with Phantom really perfectly, particularly with the direction I'm taking the time-line in. But believe it or not, I was not actively listening to this song when I wrote the fic, so the themes must have worked their way in subconsciously. But when I did listen to it again I realized it fit so seamlessly, so I decided to use part of it for my title.

I originally tapped this out after imagining probably six or seven other different points in the story where it could diverge and go down a happier, sexier time-line--from the first lair to the last--and this scenario seemed by far like the most satisfying in terms of character choices and romantic potential. That led to the question of what kind of balance would be necessary for a kiss to even happen and how Erik would react to Christine returning to him willingly (eagerly, even), and being bold about it too.

This specific moment in the story seemed particularly apt as a turning point for Christine. There's so much in it that points to her softening to the Phantom's addresses. It started at the masquerade, with her moving inexorably toward him, her decision to sneak past Raoul, and the fact that the carriage-ride is overlayed with Christine singing the opening lines of the title song all indicate that her motive for seeking solitude is to work out her inner conflict. Adding to that, the music playing over the sequence of her preparing to go to the graveyard is, what later became, "Beneath a Moonless Sky" from Love Never Dies. I know that Webber didn't officially begin work on the music for LND until 2007 and adapted this theme as Moonless Sky, but it seems plausible that he already had it in his head that this musical phrase could be of use and significance in LND. Or he just liked the drama of it and totally reverse engineered it. I guess I'd have to ask him ~shrugs~. Either way or seems very apropos.

Erik's voice vs Gustave's - I had a little bit of fun with this. I'm not sure which draft I was on when I decided to add this paragraph. Three or four, I think. I'd been listening to a lot of comparison videos and my beta reader, @l10ng1rl was really trying to sell me on Ramin Karimloo's Phantom. (I like it, but i don't love it--idk) but I got thinking about the huge difference in pitch and vocal quality between him and Gerry, and then the fact that Ramin had a cameo in the movie as Gustave made me think about who and what exactly Christine perceived the Angel to be? Her father's spirit or a separation entity sent on his behest. The latter seemed like the obvious choice because it would be too much of a coincidence for Erik and Her father to have similar voices. The huge difference between Gerard and Ramin, and given that Ramin was Gustave, I modeled the the comparison of Gustave's voice off of Ramin's and had her discount the possibility of the Angel out and out being her father right from the get go.

Erik's ring - I believe in the movie, the ring Erik gives her (in the lair, which is so lame--why not on stage like in the play?) is just Raoul's ring that he stole from her neck. In the musical Erik gives Christine a gold ring with a dark/black stone, visible here in the 25th Anniversary at The Royal Albert Hall production

I infinitely prefer this, because I just don't truck with the idea that Erik would use Raoul's swarovski disco ball ring to propose marriage. First of all it's tacky (both him using it and the ring itself), and secondly, he's a creative genius with a flair for the dramatic. That man is making his own jewelry, and it's gonna be archane looking, and classy, and goth. The idea of him giving her one of his own personal rings is also very precious to me (more on that in Chapter 2!). Now when I wrote this I think I had the idea of what Erik's ring looked like but I didn't check, and I prefer silver to gold, so that's what I wrote.

I was imagining something along these lines.

But since I have a solid image of the musical!ring in my head now, I've gone back and edited the description to match, because gold really is more Erik's style. Like I said, the ring will naturally be getting more mentions in Chapter 2, so more details on it are forthcoming.

I also wanna talk about the décolletage bit. The first time I watched this movie I was like "girl it's like, January, and that's what you're wearing to go visit your father's grave? Are you trying to catch your death of chill?"

I guess Alexandra Byrne did me a solid, though, because this provided a nice opportunity for Christine to lean further into her acceptance of sexual attraction and remember that, yes she actually enjoys the fact that Erik desires her, just like she did in the First Lair.

~~~~

Think that's everything of note for chapter one!

[two-reflections]

Writing Audit ✨

...I ended up signing up for the Salamanders Discord writing comp again. Idk why I did this to myself when I'm trying to finish my summer exchange project, but it's max 1500 words per story so I can probably do it in one night if I have to. The goal is for each competitor to create a short anthology of 4 stories in around 4 weeks. Our wider setting is a sector in the far western regions of Ultima Segmentum which is undergoing Ork and Chaos incursions and eventually gets crusaded by the Imperium. I've chosen a feral jungle world as my focus.

I already have ideas for the first story involving DAOT Archaeotech, feral Orks in limestone karst caves, and a Thousand Sons-affiliated exploratory force made up of non-marine sorcerors seeking out psychoactive plants for a particular Exalted Sorceror back on Sortiarius. (IYKYK) I'm planning for some background necron action too... But very much "blink and you'll miss it" for now.

I'll mainly be going for worldbuilding, focusing on how the planet changed over time. My hope is to bring the Salamanders in later once we hit the Crusade part of the story.

At least I can talk about this comp here, unlike my summer exchange work! Those ones are coming along bit by bit. I'm still a bit worried whether I'll manage to finish them, but since I pivoted to writing two pieces instead of one, it seems much more likely now. I know that sounds weird, but it'll make sense later.

List of my current projects under the Read More.

Summer Exchange Fic 1 - >500 words with no max, MUST be complete by August 11. Currently just over 500, expecting it to end up around 1500 words. Contains smut.

Salamanders Writing Comp - Part 1/4 due on August 8. 1500>[story]>800 words.

Summer Exchange Fic 2 - same rules and recip but expecting it to be around 10k words. Posting as a treat so I can upload unfinished chapters after the fact. Does not contain smut but IMO is the better story.

Salamander Slice of Life/Romance - been looking at this again, finally. I've been linking sections, hard but fun work. Need to add proper chapter divisions though, because certain sections are like 10k+ words long.

[Freelance project I'm considering picking up.] - Good for money, but would slow down all my other writing. Need to decide tonight, will probably start on this after August 15th

Of Steel and Flesh - Next chapter needs a lot of work, as most of them do considering they were written in Jan-Feb. I'd like to upload a chapter in August. It probably won't happen until much later in the month.

Adathan and Julen Sequel - Blood Angel/Imperial Fist Deathwatch smut. I did start writing this but I'm feeling a bit uninspired when it comes to smut at the moment. Need the right mood to hit me.

Techmarine university story - haven't worked in this in ages. Definitely on the back burner until after the exchange deadline, possibly until after the Salamanders comp too.

MMM August fic - this one's going to have to wait a few weeks, I'm absolutely swamped in other stuff.

Noise Marine This Is Spinal Tap parody - Look, it was a great idea, but I don't think I'm going to get this treat done before the exchange. So I'm posting it here. Please steal my idea, there is such a great prompt for it on the exchange.

[writingsoftrash]

Alice In Mechaland Chapter One, Part One: Savior At The Eleventh Hour

An. A.I Artificial Intelligence/Gigolo Joe x OC fanfiction by sarsa Masterpost of Chapters Original A/N 03/03/2020: yeah I have absolutely 0 explanation as to why I am obsessed/fixated with this movie or why I decided to write a self indulgent fic to give Joe a happy ending. (Well I say happy but it's, not totally happy WHOOPS.) I stopped questioning myself a long time ago. If, for some reason, someone out there enjoys this. well, then. I did a good job at least. will it be finished? hell if i know. like i said, totally self indulgent fic, is it mary sue? idk i don't care i wrote what i wanted to write i've written like 9k words already, and i'm gonna split what i have up into chapters! hurray! Updated A/N 7/27/24: tl;dr, crossposting the fic to tumblr. dunno if this will gain it a wider audience or not, idk. but surprisingly this self indulgent incredibly niche fic is one of my most popular fics on AO3 so why not! It's still unfinished, (and plenty more to go.) but I hope if there's any new readers - you love it as much as I love writing it. Also, due to the chapters being as long as they are - they will have to be split up into parts. Apologies for that, Tumblr is dumb. I've tried a hundred million ways to post just the (1st) chapter in its entirety and it just. won't. so, apologies!

He was sitting in the cold, (not that he could feel it of course, being that he was made of nothing more than wires and gears,) police station, idly tapping his feet against the concrete floor whilst whistling. He knew, deep down-  as many creatures did at these pivotal moments, that his life was nearing it's end, the handcuffs on his wrists harsh reminders of the inevitable fate that befell all mecha. In the back of his mind, he only wished that perhaps... David had fulfilled his purpose, and that he had helped the young mecha in his pursuit of the Blue Fairy. 

His own purpose was about to be forever extinguished. 

So Joe, also known as Gigolo Joe to the many patrons of the lover mecha, sat there, unblinking and resigned to the fact that he now knew, no matter how much he had tried to run, it would eventually catch up to him. He had escaped it once at the Flesh Fair, but fate did not slow down for mechas. It was always inching, crawling behind them, waiting to catch them and devour those who had dared to be created by man's hand. 

The door swung open, and his pristine face swiveled to look at who was entering, who would be the one to hand down his sentence (death) without a single ounce of pity or wherewithal to question the circumstances on which he had been condemned.  "And I am telling you, to release him into my custody. He's not the murderer - the police in Haddonfield have the right man locked up and with a full confession. I don't see what's so hard about this."

If he had the capacity, the desire to blink in surprise, he would have, but instead he simply cocked his head exactly nine degrees to the right, and stared blankly at the blonde-haired woman who was arguing with the police man, and despite her diminutive size was able to keep up with the burly man's steps. "Again, if you do NOT release this man-" "You mean mecha?" "...this MAN, into my custody, immediately, you are going to be so miserable with the amount of paperwork my firm's going to bury you in," she moved to stand between the officer and Joe, crossing her arms and tapping her heeled boots impatiently, and he could smell, drifting from her, the most delicious scent- and he could name the perfume instantly - Dior, he thought after briefly going through his list of common perfumes worn by women, before his eyes moved to her blonde hair. Had he not been handcuffed to the table, he swore he would have lifted a hand up to touch it gently. "Look lady, you want to be responsible for him? Fine. You're right, he hasn't murdered anyone. But he still stole-" "You'll find that my partner has already paid for the fines, next? Or can we stop this inane back and forth, and I can leave with him? Or is it your goal to be benched and investigated for gross incompetence?" The officer scoffed, looking away - disgust apparent on both his face and in his tone, "Oh begging your pardon, miss. Sorry we didn't do our due diligence over one fuckin' mecha," he moved swiftly, clearly done with the woman, taking out a set of keys and unlocking Joe's handcuffs roughly and pulling him out of the chair before pushing him over, "Here you are, one fuckbot at your service, keep him out of trouble, you mechafucker. " The police officer offered one last laugh as he left, "I'll let YOU explain to him what happened, not my fuckin problem anymore. Weirdo..."  The woman watched as he left, nostrils flared with clear annoyance, jaw clenched, clearly attempting to stop herself from saying anything incendiary to the cop. As soon as the door shut with a SLAM, she spun on her heels to face Joe - her face that once held fury and contempt for the officer, became one filled with an apologetic look, "Sorry about that, some of these guys can be real jackasses for no reason. Um-" her hand extended out to him, a shy smile crossing her face, "My names Alice Capulet, lawyer with Capulet Law Firms here in Rouge City." Joe tilted his head, taking the offered hand and shaking it, before bringing her hand to his lips to gently kiss the top of it as he maintained eye contact with the woman, "Why?" he asked simply, no other words or questions came up- just confusion settling in his wires as he was confronted with this Alice, who had just argued for his freedom so vehemently. He watched as the telltale sign of an emotional response to his hand kiss rose to her cheeks, blood coloring the skin as she flushed, pulling her hand away and rubbing it nervously with the other.  "Why what?" "Why did you save me?" he asked, "As the police offer so crudely put it, I am just... a simple 'fuckbot' though I admit, I would have preferred my actual name, and perhaps a more suitable moniker. Lover mecha, Sex worker. I am what I am, and I hold no shame... but-" he smiled, doing a small tap with his feet, and extending his hand out to her, "I am... the best at what I do, and none can take that from me. But I am... just a mecha. So, why?" A laugh was his response, as she shook her head, offering up a small smile, "...How about I answer as we get out of this place?" she asked, moving towards the door,  "You've been released into my custody, and you don't have to come with me... you're free to return to your work, if you'd like. But, if you'd like to... recharge so to speak, I've a free room in my apartment." She beckoned him forth - this Alice - holding out her hand which he took, gently into his as she led him out of the room and back out into the free world, as a free man.  Chapter One: Part I || Part II || Part III || Part IV

Masterpost

[lilxberry]

I need you - Montgomery ‘Monty’ De La Cruz*

Requested By: @anabelleoriley

Hey it’s me again sorry I’ve been m.i.a recently I only saw this now. I was thinking along the lines of Monty & (female reader) maintaining a friendship that’s been going on since they were little, part of their unofficial agreement was that they’d never cross that line you know that thin between friends and Fwb … until they did cross one night in a tent during a camping the school was having, Things were super awkward the next day especially when he’d avoid her at every chance he got she felt really stupid and embarrassed thinking that she wasn’t good enough so she did what she always did which was flirt with guys just to boost her self-esteem a little (also she’s a natural flirt always has been) Monty got jealous/pissed so he confronted her… long story short they kissed & made up but also became official. I’d like the tent part to be smutty but the rest is in your hands sorry for the LOONG description i have a problem limiting my explanations lol 🙈.

Warnings: There’s some serious amount of swearing in this lmao. SMUT. Bryce (ugh). Jealousy. Zach being ooc? (Idk, it kinda warrants a warning simply because this ain’t our usual sweet Zacharcy, yanno?). I think that’s it but please let me know.

Words: 2,599

Pairings: Montgomery ‘Monty’ De La Cruz x reader (female reader)

(A/N: The ending is kinda abrupt but I always feel like when I get to the end of a fic, the writing goes down hill lmao.)

(A/N 2: Italics are flashbacks to the camping trip.)

________________

God, why did you do that?

Why did you both do that?

It was so, so stupid.

Everything was perfectly fine, then you both went and fucked it all up.

Fucking friendship.

Fucking camping trip.

Fucking Monty.

Of course, he’d fucking ignore you. Why wouldn’t he? Were you that fucking stupid?

_______________

“C’mon, Y/N/N,” Monty started, his arm slung over your shoulder as you sit beside one another on the bus ride to the camping ground. “Once everyone’s sleeping, Bryce’ll be climbing in some girls tent.”

You sigh and with a roll of your eyes, you look towards your friend of who knows how long with a deadpan expression. “Not the point, Monts.”

He raised an eyebrow up and smirked cockily. “Oh yeah? And what is the point, exactly?”

“The point is, I don’t want to deal with your annoying ass in a confined tent, moving and kicking and snoring.”

Monty tuts and leans back into his seat, never removing his arm and in fact bringing you in closer to him. “So, you’re just gonne let me sleep all on my own in a tent when I could get murdered at any moment? It’s safer in pairs.”

“Then bring it up with your tent buddy that’s gonna abandon you for some pussy that’s most probably not even worth it.”

He snorted and eyed you playfully. “And who’s pussy do you deem ‘worth it’? Yours?” he teases.

“Obviously,” you remark with a roll of your eyes. “But I wouldn’t touch Bryce with a 10 foot pole while wearing a hazmat suit.”

“I HEARD THAT!” The oh-so familiar voice of Bryce calls from two seats behind, making both you and Monty laugh loudly.

_______________

Needless to say, you gave in to Monty and his constant fucking nagging, because “he’s just so persuasive”.

Now you’re beating yourself up for listening to fucking Monty and going along with his fucking stupid fucking plan.

Now you’re stuck between a constant want of smacking the shit out of him and having him close and right by your side again.

_______________

“I hope you’re fucking happy, asshole,” you retort as you climb in through the tent flap to join Monty in his tent now that everyone’s asleep and Bryce is tapping some ass that’s probably to desperate to actually realise that it’s BRYCE they’ve agreed to sleep with.

“Not so loud, babe. You tryna give us up?”

“God, I hate it when you call me that.” You mimicked dry heaving to really accentuate how disgusting you thought the word was. “It reminds me of all your sad attempts at losing your virginity.”

“Woah. I’m wounded, BABE.”

You snort and make your way to lay beside Monty, back against whatever cushioned the ground, eyes staring at the tent’s ceiling with boredom. You felt your side get nudged and you turn your head to face the brunette laying beside you, a crooked grin on his face.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Oh god.” You groan and close your eyes, turning your head away from him before looking at him incredulously. “Really?”

“Oh c’mon. That was funny.”

“Shut up. Can’t we just like, I dunno, go sleep or something?”

He pushes your shoulder in a playful manner. “Pssh. You wanna sleep? When you have like the hottest fucking guy right next to you? In a tent? Where no one can see?” Monty raises himself to lay on his side, his head propped up by his hand. “So you’re really gonna deny this opportune moment to fuck?”

You make a sound, a mixture between a groan and a whine, all whilst bringing your arm up to cover your face. “C’mon, Monts. We even talked about this before. We set ground rules when we got old enough. We weren’t gonna cross that line.”

“Why are you so scared, huh? It’s not like it’s gonna change anything. We’re still gonna be best friends, we’re still gonna care about each other and never leave each other’s sides. The only thing different is that we’ve just relieved some stress, baby.”

You remove your arm from over your face, chancing a quick peek at Monty. “That’s not the point.”

“Plus, I doubt I’d even sleep with you if I was bored out of my skull,” you playfully added to lighten the mood. Yet, it did nothing to ease the tension that somehow formed between the two of you.

Monty crawled his way to hover over you, moving to settle between your legs which had parted in an almost natural reaction. His face was level with yours, his arms either side of your head, holding himself up above you. “Well,” he started, a smirk forming on his face. He leans closer as he whispers. “You certainly look very bored, Miss Y/L/N.”

You release a slow breath as you look up at him, and you felt your resolve crumble almost instantly.

“Why do I let you talk me into everything?”

_______________

The avoidance of you Monty has been so determined to follow through with has annoyed you to no end; acting as if it had never happened, as if you were never apart of his life.

You were beyond fucking pissed.

The entirety of the camping trip after that night had been hell. Monty avoiding you at all costs. The rest of the trip allowed you to wallow in self pity and to consume yourself in self-deprecating, self-esteem lowering thoughts.

But now it’s a new week, a new weekend to be exact, a party at the Walker residence.

A new level of confidence installed within you.

God, who needs Mongomery De La fucking Cruz?

With a smirk, you see Zach stood at the kitchen island beside Justin, both with red solo cups in their hands filled with beer, both smiling and laughing and certainly having a good time. If it weren’t for the fact that they had broken up recently, you would easily see Jessica right by Justins’ side with her own drink, more of a vodka concoction in her cup.

Swaying your hips, you close in on the two, eyes set on Zach, your cup in your own hand although empty. Zach spots you just before you reach the duo and smiles at you, Justin following his friends’ eyes, his own gaze landing on you.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” he greets, all while you and Zach continue to look each other up and down.

“Hey Foley.” You spare him a quick glance only for your eyes to fall on to Zach once more quickly, the corner of your mouth quirking upwards. “Zach.”

“Looking good, Y/N/N,” Zach comments, his smirk hidden behind the rim of his cup that he follows with a sip.

“Not too bad yourself, Dempsey,” your smirk mirroring his own.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.” You pass him your cup and move to lean against the kitchen counter beside him as turns to refill your cup, handing it to you slowly, allowing his fingers to brush against yours.

“Thanks.” You take a sip yet neither of your eyes leaves each other, and even when Justin cleared his throat and excused himself with a chuckle, you both continued the eye contact.

Zachs’ eyes leave yours for a moment to glance where warm bodies danced around and with each other before looking back down at you. “Wanna dance?”

You take another sip before taking a hold of his hand and pulling him towards the living room, walking backwards, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

You twirled in his hold once you reached the masses of sweating, drunk, dancing people and spun yourself into him, your back against his front, the two of you already swaying and moving against each other, your hips rotating against his.

You hook one arm around the back of his neck whilst you bring your cup back up to your lips, taking a generous sip of whatever alcohol Zach had poured you.

You feel his hot breath again your neck and the shell of your ear and his murmured, husked words sends a pleasant tingle shooting through you.

“You really look good, baby.”

_______________

“You look so good, baby,” Monty breathed, his hips rocking into yours at a sensual pace, his cock dragging deliciously against your tight walls.

Your chest heaves against his as breathy moans escape you, your nails raking down his back, drawing red marks against his tanned skin, the muscles beneath your fingertips flexing with each thrust.

He ravages your neck with his mouth, biting and sucking deep marks on to your flesh, a loud pornographic moan that’s muffled by his hand coming from you in response to his hot touch.

“You look so pretty on my cock, fuck.” His pace fastens, your tits bouncing at the increase of speed.

Monty wraps his arms around you securely before flipping you both, his dick still deep inside you. “Ride me, princess.”

You do as your told, swivelling and rocking your hips, rotating them, bouncing up and down on his length, anything to chase your orgasm while bringing him closer to his own, palms planted against his chest, nails slightly biting at his flesh.

“Monty, fuck-“ A thin layer of sweat coats both your bodies, the inside of the tent now feeling stuffy and warm and just reeks of the stench of sex. You never understood how something, or someone could smell like sex, but now it all suddenly makes sense to you.

You feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen, twisting and turning and tightening and then- it snaps. Your body pauses its movements and quivers and Monty decided to fuck you through it while chasing his own.

He flips you both back over and fucks into you with a desperate want, a need. He brings one hand down to toy with your clit at his thrusts are fast and sloppy, uncoordinated. His mouth is on yours, muffling your sweet orgasmic moans, his tongue invading past your lips and swirling around your own.

A few more pumps and thrusts and he’s there with you, in a euphoric state as his climax comes round. His hips still, occasionally jerking as he releases into the condom wrapped around his dick.

Monty’s sweaty body collapses on top of yours and you both lay there in a sweaty, panting heap in the centre of the two-man tent, clothes, haphazardly thrown at all sides of the space.

_______________

His jaw is clenched and the girl under his arm sat beside him on his friends’ couch is completely forgotten; she was boring anyways.

His eyes are solely on you and Dempsey, watching you move against him as if you have any right. But you do.

Montgomery De La Cruz had no fucking claim on you.

And he knows that. Very much so.

The girl tries to regain his attention but it’s a lost cause, simply shrugging her off and removing his arm from around her shoulders, leaning forward in his seat, his forearms resting on his jean clad knees, tonguing his bottom lip in anger and jealousy.

He watches tensely as you turn in Zach’s’ hold and raise yourself up on to your tiptoes to whisper into his ear before sauntering away and out of sight and like fuck would Montgomery not go after you.

He’s quick to move out of his seat, standing and following you out of the room and towards the kitchen, to which he enters and finds you pouring yourself another drink. Monty rolls his shoulder before walking up and standing right behind you, leaning over slightly, and speaking into your ear with an indifferent tone.

“We need to talk.”

He waits for you to lower the bottle before grasping your wrist and pulling out of the kitchen and in the direction to the stairs to find somewhere private.

As pissed as you are, you put no effort in to fight him.

Once up the stairs and satisfied with the empty room he stumbled upon, he pushes you inside and makes sure to close and lock the door before spinning to face you, who took it upon yourself to sit on the bed in the centre of the room.

“What the fuck was that?” he exclaimed, throwing his arm behind him and gesturing to the door.

You continue to act nonchalant, staying silent, gazing into the liquid inside your cup, swirling it around in your hand.

“Hello?” He sounds annoyed and you scoffed. Of course, he has the audacity to be annoyed at you ignoring him.

“So now you want to talk? I thought it was okay to ignore each other like what you’ve been doing to me since that fucking camping trip,” you spat, still refusing to make eye contact with him. “Why did you ignore me? Huh? Better be a good fucking reason.”

“Get a fucking grip, Y/N. grow up.” He scoffed angrily and ran his hand down the length of his face before looking at you. “Answer my fucking question. The fuck was that? What the fuck were you doing with Dempsey?”

“Why are you so fucking concerned, Monty?” You stood in anger. “Go back to cosying up with that blonde, yeah?”

“Oh fuck off, she means nothing.”

“Why doesn’t that shock me?” You laugh but there was no humour behind it. “Are you going to give me an actual fucking explanation why you’ve avoided me or not? Because I think I deserve a fucking answer.”

You begin to pace. “Do you know how that shit made me feel? Do you even have the slightest fucking idea how much that hurt?” Your voice began to break, your eyes were building up with tears, but you refused to give up now. “You hurt me, Monty. You really fucking hurt me. You said nothing would change, that we’d still right by each other’s side yet you left, you fucking left, and it hurt.”

A few tears had escaped by now, slowly rolling down your cheeks. You suck in a shaky breath and you finally look him in the eye. “So please, just give me a fucking explanation.”

Moments passed by and nothing came from Monty, not a single word. It was a response you didn’t like one bit. “Fine.” You cleared your throat and made your way to walk past him.

Just as you brush past his side, you feel his large hand on your wrist, pulling and turning you to face him and before you knew it, his lips were on your in needy kiss.

Monty removed his lips from yours and exhaled shakily as he moved to rest his forehead against yours. “I thought I fucked it, that I fucked it all up like always,” he whispered. “That’s why avoided you. I couldn’t fucking lose you like that. I never wanted to hurt you like that, I fucking swear.”

“And you didn’t think avoiding me would fuck it, either? Jesus, Monty. You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, y’know that?”

He chuckled and a small smile broke out on to your own face, too. “I really wanna try this with you. fuck, I wanna try this with you so bad but I understand if I’ve fucked any chance.”

“I wanna try this with you, too,” you whispered softly, eyes closing and hands finding his own. “But we need to do this slowly. I really don’t want to be hurt again, Monts.”

He nodded his head, his nose brushing against your own at the movement. “We’ll go at whatever damn speed you want Y/N/N.” his voice entirely sincere, not an ounce of falsity in it. “I just, I need you.”

_______________

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I didn’t know what I was doing with this

Like usual lmao

Just, I hope you enjoy it

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

_______________

13 Reasons Why taglist:

(If I’ve forgotten you, please let me know. Otherwise, the taglist for this show is empty like I remember it to be.)

[a-v-j]

Extra Service(18+)

Ok, so imma share the first 1000 words of this fic i’ve been meaning to post for months i think. Kinda nervous actually cuz i know my writing is not in-level with my totally amazing drawing skillz lol

but anywho, this features Forbidden Spaghetti #5(AKA crackshiiiiiip)

idk but i think i should mention that this fic include heat cycles(might be bad presentation too but im trying!) and swearing

OH YEAH, this “chapter” doesnt have the 18+ bits yet, so if this post gets some positive feedback i will post the next parts! (NO CRITIQUEs ALLOWED cuz im stubborn like that, probably from friends only! mAyBE!)

ALRIGHT LET”S GO (MINI COMIC AT THE END! DONT MISS IT!)

“Do me”

“Pardon?” The taller skeleton’s head snapped up almost immediately and stared with confusion at his client, who without being noticed had made his way closer to the front of his desk.

*Thirteen minutes earlier*

Quick tapping of foot steps echoed in the empty hallway as Snap walked briskly into his work office, it was another typical work day as the therapist in Coreverse headquarters and even though it wont be for another thirty minutes before his work hours actually starts, he went in early anyway because he liked being punctual. Early bird catches the worm as they say.

Upon sitting on his chair and with coffee already in hand, he flipped through his files and hummed to himself, noting his first appointment is with his regular, Corrupto. It wasn’t like he doesn’t like this particular client, no, in fact he took it as a challenge and to help as much as he could. And he was the only available therapist that was qualified for out-of-multiverse work and Cor wasn’t the type to be handled by regular therapist, not to mention he was a really tough nut to crack. He and Cor had been seeing each other for a long while now, and without reported violent behaviors from the other, just means there’s an established trust and knowing Cor, trust was not something he gives away freely.

A few minutes later, Snap, not yet taking his eyelights off from his notes, heard his office door open quietly, indicating his client has arrived to his morning appointment. He glanced up out of curiosity because he would usually hear the other grumble his way to his seat after harshly opening the door and rudely pushing it close but he only saw Cor closing it and walking to his spot without making any much noise. His client was unusually quiet with expression stern and sullen. Snap took note of that and warmly welcomed him, still the other did not give a response nor eye contact.

“How are you feeling today, Auto*?” Snap continued, half expecting the other to pull a wise-crack on him and say “with my hands” or something like that but the only response he received was more silence.

*Cor requested he should be called by “his real name”, the name Corrupto was from “Corrupted!Auto” and he didn’t like everyone calling him that.

“In a scale of 1 to 10. How do you rate your current mood today?” The therapist tried again and, this time, his client mumbled something inaudible. That’s a start, at least.

“Could you repeat that again? Please, don’t hesitate, this is a safe place” Snap reassured, and he was getting genuinely worried.

“I’m horny” Cor finally stated louder, still not making eye contact

“Oh-” There was a pause of awkward silence before Snap quickly collected his thoughts back and wrote on his note. “That’s normal. People always have arousal then, now and again.”

Snap mentally breathe out in relief because for a moment he thought Cor was into something really serious, or worse, dangerous. He was used to the other casually talking about sex related topics and was quite aware how the other was, let’s say, deprived. But still, something wasn’t right and Cor was acting out of it.

“No, I mean I’m that kinda horny.” Cor was clearly having a bit of a hard time trying to relay what he was trying to tell Snap but Snap knew right away what the other meant.

“Oh...the heat kind?”

Cor meekly nodded. Snap nodded back and went back to write a note. Knowing Cor, he was a guy that would shamelessly talk about sex out loud but he doesnt seem to be proud talking about this particular topic. Perhaps even embarrassed.

“So what would be your decision, Auto? Should we continue or would you like to end this session early and take a break?” Snap inquired.

“Continue”

”Are you sure? It’s 100% ok to skip for today-”He felt the other glare, insisting his decision was absolute

“Ok, I’m making sure you’re totally ok” After seeing a solid affirmation again from the other, he proceed to write things down and did a quick re-calibration of his strategy.

After a few more moments of silence. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Snap attentively glanced up to Cor, “Sure, anything I could do to help” before turning back briefly on his desk to organize some clutter .

“Do me”

“Pardon?” The taller skeleton’s head snapped up almost immediately and stared with confusion at his client, who without being noticed had made his way closer to the front of his desk.

Cor maintained a sharp eye contact into the therapist, he was fully aware that Snap could now fully see his sweating and flustered expression. He felt vulnerable and so lost focus and glanced away. He tried to speak again in a low volume

“I…I need you to..fuck me” His tone came out kinda shaky, clearly hesitating to say his indecent proposal.

“Wha-”

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME.” Snap immediately did as told

“This heat is gonna fuck me up for a week or so and I don’t need that kinda shit right now. If I just get it one time it’ll be over asap. Only you know about this and you’re the only one I could trust. And I’m not gonna op for some saps, ya get me?” Cor glared.

“But this is inappropriate, unprofessional!” Snap objected, shocked and incredibly worried for the both of them but at the same time, feeling a bit excited with the idea…? NO, BAD SNAP

“You say you want to help me, and this is one way to do it. Anything that would happen here, stays in this room and will never be talked about again” Cor sternly looked Snap in the eye, clearly definite with his decision to back out anytime soon.

“Ma-maybe we could find other options for this awkward situation???” Snap almost faltered but he tried to gain control over the situation which was getting a bit hard when the thing down there is getting uncomfortably tight in its fabric containment

“...”

”Are you ace?”

“What? No, I’m not.” Snap was momentarily caught off guard by the fact Cor put in consideration in asking for his orientation.

“So ya gonna help me out or what?”

Snap stood up from his chair and firmly held Cor by the shoulder and gently spoke, “Auto, I understand your actions might be greatly influenced by your heat and I’m afraid you’ll regret it once you’re clear but I do need you to understand that I’m your therapist, you’re my client and what you are asking of me just cant happen, I’m sorry”

Cor wasn’t in the slightest moved at all, he raised a brow and took a glance downwards and back up again to look Snap in the eyes.

“That looks heavy, let me give you a hand”, he deadpanned

[rendevousz]

mum?

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

avengers x reader

req by @teenwonder ; i absolutely love the entire teams adoration for reader skfksngnsf its so cute! could i please request one a little more nat based? maybe r treats and loves nat like a mom but nat hadn’t noticed that before, and the whole team is like listing examples of how and why 🥺🥺🥺

summary: the four times you needed nat and the one time she admits that she needed you too.

warnings: blood, a random attack out of nowhere because i'm not creative, inaccurate writing of medical situations because i have no idea how those things work, also let's just pretend bruce was around during iron man 2 when tony still had palladium in his arc reactor, also inaccurate descriptions of palladium effects bcs i just...don't know much about palladium pls forgive me thanks, and idk any hospitals in new york/manhattan or even the states LMAO so uh bear with this, and last but not least, my inability to write good endings

word count: 5426

notes: that's a long ass warning nevertheless pls do enjoy this fic <3

"i'm going now, bye!" you bid the team who were having breakfast together, walking out of the common area.

"bye, cupcake! don't get into trouble, don't do what i'd do and definitely don't do what i wouldn't do." tony advised and you rolled your eyes because tony says that to you every morning before you leave for school.

"wait, don't forget your lunch!" nat stands up from her seat and grabs your lunch that she had packed, from the kitchen island, bringing it over to you. "thanks, nat!" you grabbed it, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

nat smiles at the action, turning around to walk back to her spot on the table, only to find the team staring back at her with knowing looks.

"what?"

"you know, you only need to sign a couple papers and the kid's all yours." tony states matter-of-factly. nat snaps her head towards the man, an incredulous look on her face. "what are you talking about?"

"we all see the longing looks on both your faces. she's dying for you to call her your daughter and you, her mother." clint explains and the others nodded in agreement.

"that's nonsense. she has wanda too," nat reasons, sitting back down. "i'm pretty sure she sees wanda as a sister considering how much she drags wanda with her whenever she's causing trouble around the tower." steve raises his brows at the redhead who was in denial.

"she sees you as her mother, nat. just accept it," wanda tells her, taking a sip from her glass. "really? name me one time she showed it." nat challenges them, not knowing that they've been watching your interactions with her for the longest time.

"you have no idea what you just got yourself into, romanoff," clint chuckles, cracking his neck and knuckles as if preparing for a fight.

"remember new mexico?" he smirks and nat only frowns, trying to remember.

i.

"no!" you screamed, dropping down to the ground. you didn't care that you scraped your knees doing that, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of grief engulfing your whole being. tears streamed down your face as you looked at the debris on the ground, the remainder of what used to be standing in front of you; a building. blown up, now in ruins.

clint, bucky and steve watched you break down in front of them, their hearts breaking at the sight in front of them as well as the fact that their teammate had been caught up in the middle of the explosion.

"y/n/n? come on, tony's team called for back up. we gotta go," steve tried to get you to stand up, failing when you kept your ground. you screamed when he tried again and their hearts clenched at the heartbreaking sound.

"we can't just leave her! please, we have to find her," you cried, clinging onto steve's body as he ran his hand up and down your suit-cladded back to soothe you. "y/n/n, we can't. the whole place is in ruins now," he didn't want to say it but he had to. he had to in order to get you to leave. "she's gone."

"she can't be gone! she can't just leave us! we need her! i need her, stevie.." you cried into his chest and he had to control himself so he didn't cry right then and there too.

he looked up to see bucky looking at the two of you guiltily, tapping his wrist to indicate that they were running out of time. steve had no choice but to carry you in his arms, getting you to leave the site against your will. but you were too weak to fight back now. "what am i gonna do without her now, stevie?" you asked quietly.

"we're gonna be okay, y/n/n," he tells you, sitting you down on a chair and settling down next to you as clint flew the jet to your next location. the atmosphere was tense and you could tell everyone, too, was sad about this.

"what if we're not? what if we're not gonna be okay, stevie? i know i won't be." you wiped the tears streaming down your face despite the fact that your face still wasn't drying up any time soon.

"because nat wouldn't want to see us like this. she'll be angry if she sees that we're risking people's lives just because of her." he says truthfully.

"we're landing, guys." clint announces and the team prepared for another round of fighting. steve turns to you, wiping the tears on your face as he made you look up at him. "now let's save some people and make nat proud, yeah?"

you nod at him sadly, preparing your weapons. all of you got out the jet and the second battle of the day begun. boy, were these people unlucky because they were on the receiving end of your fury.

you were busy taking down a group of guards alone when you heard a familiar voice. "y/n, behind you!" and you turned just in time to take down a guard who was aiming at you.

you didn't even have time to register your shock of seeing the redhead because more guards came at you two. you guys fought alongside each other until all the men were taken down.

"nat?" you breathed out. "yes, bub?" she answers as you both carefully walked over the knocked out men. she was taken aback when you slammed into her, hugging her the tightest you ever did since you met her.

"please don't ever do that again." you mumbled into her chest. she was about to ask you what you meant when she heard you sniffling. figuring out it wasn't the appropriate moment to ask, she continued to just hug and comfort you in silence.

"wait, that was why she cried that day? because she thought i was in that building when it blew up?" nat asks after steve finished the story. "i never found out why because she never told me."

"yeah, you should've seen her when the building exploded. completely shattered my heart, dude." clint states, remembering the broken down state you were in that day.

"wait, did you guys not grief over my supposed death then?" nat glares at clint, bucky and steve. "in our defense, they were about to blow up about a hundred people, we didn't have much time to process the whole situation." clint tries to convince his best friend, only to receive a glare again from her.

"alright but just because she cried when she thought i was dead, doesn't mean she sees me as her mum. i'd cry too if any one of you guys died," she states, still in denial.

she did love you like how a mother would love her child. but she didn't want you to feel that she was forcing the title onto you. after all, you had so many other adults around you, who's to say that you saw someone else as a parent figure instead of her? she didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"woman, are you serious?" sam exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "need i remind you that the girl sacrificed her life for you?"

ii.

"nat, watch out!" you stood right behind her where the man was about to attack her. you gave him a harsh kick to the head and that was all it took for the man to go unconscious.

the redhead turned around, not having enough time to comprehend what had happened before you dropped into her arms. you two were lucky the last of the men had already been taken out.

"bub? what's wrong?"

at this point, you were fully leaning against her. she was holding up your whole weight, hands wrapped around your middle to support you. that was when she felt it. the familiar thick substance on her fingers, leaking from the back of your suit.

her eyes widened, pulling one hand away from you to look at it. red. her breathing picked up as one of her hands felt around your back, finally feeling the handle of a knife sticking out from your back.

your eyes were already drooping by now and she lightly shook you awake, careful to not hurt you. she lowered you down and you were both sat on the floor now.

she presses a finger to her ear and you could hear her voice echo in your ear from your own comms. "can someone come please," she paused, exhaling shakily. "y/n's down."

if it had been any other person, she probably would be bringing them to the jet by now but it was you. she didn't know what came over her but when she saw that you were injured, it was like her whole body shut down. her knees felt weak and she couldn't bring herself to move.

"hey, hey, keep your eyes open. can you do that?" she asked gently and you nodded weakly. "bub, why did you do that?" she cried softly, moving your hair away from your face as you leaned sideways against her. the action caused your face to be smudged by your own blood from her hands but she didn't care as she caressed your cheek.

"he–he was gonna hurt you. i–i couldn't..." you paused a while, the pain getting too much for you to bear. "y/n, don't strain yourself. you need to stay awake," she tells you as tears streamed down her face.

"rather me than you," you whispered. nat's eyes widened at this. "don't say that, bub." she scolds gently.

you smiled weakly at her. "i've grown too dependent on you, nat. it's to the point that i," you coughed and nat worried that you were straining yourself but you continued. "that i'd rather die than live without you. you probably can go on with life without me but i can't without you. i need you, nat." your eyes closed and nat panics, shaking your body.

"y/n?! bub?! stay awake, please, they're coming!" nat cries out loud, holding onto your limp body.

"did we not agree to not mention that to me anymore?" nat glares at sam for bringing that up.

the night of that incident had been one of the worst nights for nat. she sat by your bed all night after you had been treated. she had been the first one you saw after you woke up. she had been the one you broke down in front of after you admitted the full reasoning behind your actions. she had been the one who opened her arms for you to make yourself at home in.

"i'm sorry but you must be blind if you can't see how really she sees you for the past years," bucky states. nat turns to him with a glare. "you don't know what you're talking about."

"oh really? who does she call whenever she has a really bad nightmare?" bucky questions rhetorically with his eyebrows raised.

iii.

"no, please, don't!" you begged, asleep and thrashing around in your bed. quiet whimpers turned into heavy breathing as you plead for your life in your nightmare. "please," you whispered, inhaling and exhaling harshly.

FRIDAY, noticing the amount of distress you were in, alerted the closest person to your room, that being bucky who was returning from a late night trip to the kitchen for some water.

he quickly went into your room, only to see you shivering and thrashing around in your bed. "doll?" he approaches slowly, finding you still asleep, though sweating a lot. nightmare, he realised.

"doll? wake up," he gently shakes you and you immediately jolt awake, breathing heavily as you register what was going on. "it's okay, it was just a nightmare," he soothes you, holding you close as one hand rubbed up and down your back while the other held your head to his chest.

none of that helped as you were still in the same state as you were when you woke up. "are you okay?" he asks, worried. "nat... i need nat.. please i need her," you whimpered, shaking in his hold. you were having trouble breathing.

"FRIDAY, get romanoff."

within minutes, nat arrived, looking panicked and disheveled like she had just woken up, which she just did. "what's wrong?" she asks bucky, approaching you two.

"she was having a nightmare and woke up and i think she's having a panic attack. she asked for you," he informs her and immediately moves away when she approaches, so that she could take his place.

"bub? it's me," you look up to meet natasha's pretty green eyes. "you're okay, bub. can you tell me five thing you can see?"

you looked away from her eyes, looking around your room. "i–i see my book on my nightstand, my lamp, my jacket on the chair, my laptop and the painting on the wall." you told her after some difficulties.

"good, that's good. four things you can feel?"

"i feel the socks on my feet, my fluffy blanket, the pillow i'm leaning on and your hands around me."

she smiles softly at you. "three things you can hear?"

"i hear your voice. a–and the faint noise from the ac and i can also hear bucky's breathing." you look up at the man and he smiles sheepishly at you, standing around awkwardly. you gave him a small smile back.

"two things you can smell?"

"i can smell my own shampoo..and my room's air freshener." you told her more calmly now, feeling the panic attack already going away.

"one thing you want to taste?"

"i wanna taste wanda's blueberry pancakes." you pout and the two adults couldn't help but chuckle. "you can have them in the morning. right now you need to sleep so you can have the energy to devour them tomorrow, okay?" you nod at the woman as she tucks you in.

not long after, you fell asleep. she then presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving with a less worried bucky now. and sure enough, the next morning, wanda made you blueberry pancakes.

"okay, so what? we all need someone to help us through panic attacks?" nat rolls her eyes. "did you miss the part where i came in and tried to help but she specifically asked for you? she needed you, nat."

"guys, i... i love her with my whole heart but she has all of us. i don't wanna make her feel like she's restricted to only one of us. you all love her too," nat reasons.

"yes but she doesn't have anyone to call her mum and frankly, i think you'd be perfect for it." wanda encourages the older woman.

"i—" before she could continue, her phone rang loudly and she thanked whoever it was that called her because now she didn't have to make up excuses about her doubt of becoming your official mother.

iv.

she looks down at the caller id, sighing when it was you, meaning the team had more against her now. of course she didn't mind you calling her, you could call her when she'd be asleep after a mission and she'd still pick up with a smile on her face. but it was the fact that the whole team could see how she softened when she realised it was you who called that bothered her. she really didn't want them to let her have hopes that you'd accept her as your mother.

"bub?" she said into the phone and half the team smirked at her while the other half gave her knowing smiles. "aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?"

"yeah but uh are you busy right now? i um, i need you."

nat immediately stands up, worry etched onto her face and the team frowned at this. "what happened? are you okay?"

"you know how i told happy i wanted to walk to school today? yeah, i just remembered why i don't walk to school anymore."

"what do you mean? what happened? are you hurt? did someone hurt you?" she bombards you with questions out of worry. at this point, the team had also stopped their chatter and teasing looks, equally worried for your well-being.

"yeah, i am. wait, maybe not. i mean, i was just being dramatic but uh, i tripped on who-knows-what and now i have a sprained ankle. i can't walk now so i'm standing in an alley right now so i'm not in the way of people. can you come get me?"

nat sighs in relief, thankful that it wasn't anything that she was thinking of. "you are unbelievable, y/n." she chuckles in disbelief at your clumsiness. "can you tell me where you are? i'll come get you now. i'll have the school know you're not coming today." you told her your location and she immediately leaves after telling the team what happened to you.

you were expecting nat to call again, to tell you she was around the corner but instead you heard a whoosh of air beside your head, followed by a crack sound. your head followed the sound, eyes widening when you saw that a dart had struck the wall beside your head. you looked ahead, trying to see where that came from.

if it hadn't been for your fast reflexes being an avenger for the past few years, you probably wouldn't have ducked in time when another dart came flying right for your head. "what the hell?" you grunted, staying low but still looking around for the source. you squinted when you looked up, the sun blazing but you managed to catch a glimpse of a man on a rooftop nearby. he had blonde hair and was dressed in all black, donning a same coloured mask that covered the bottom half of his face.

"you had one job! how could you miss her twice?!" the blonde hears his colleague hiss in his ear through the earpiece. "i'm sorry! i'm no hawkeye, how was i supposed to get her in one try?!" he scolds back.

"you didn't even get her in two!"

"shut up and just let me work! you're distracting me!"

"hurry because i see the redheaded one nearing the alley. boss'll kill us if he finds out we didn't get her in her vulnerable state."

"i'm trying, i'm trying!" the blonde closes one eye, his sight now locked on your crouched state. he saw you move once you saw him and he cursed under his breath, his weapon following your movements. "she's moving!"

"just take the shot and be done with it! you have to go now!"

and shoot he did. after he shot the dart gun, he immediately fled but it wasn't like you were going to be able to chase him down or anything. a scream left your lips as a dart pierced through your skin, right under your shoulder.

you dropped down to the ground, right in the middle of the alleyway. you cried when you felt the burn in your flesh. you had been stabbed multiple times before with much bigger objects so why did this feel different?

"y/n?! is that you?!" you heard nat's voice yell from a small distance away. "i'm here," you croaked out, feeling your body grow weaker at an alarming rate.

"oh my god, bub, why are you on the ground? it's dirty, c'mon let's get you up. which foot did you sprain?" she places both her hands under your arms, pulling you up on your feet before accidentally dropping you back when you let out a shriek, crying out in pain.

"oh my god, did i hit your ankle? are you okay?" nat assumed that your tear-stained face was because of your sprained ankle but then you wheezed, your eyes drooping the longer she stood there.

your right hand slowly reached across your left shoulder, the butt of the dart sticking out of your skin now in between your shaking fingers. nat's eyes followed your hand movement's, a gasp leaving her lips.

"y/n, what happened?!" she panicked but before she could even get an answer from you, you had already blacked out. her eyes widened, knowing it was the dart because why else would you pass out that quick from a simple penetration in the shoulder. you had dealt with much worse than that and she knew your tolerance level.

she took off your bag, careful to not move the dart. she then placed her hands under your knees and behind your back, easily picking your unconscious body up and rushing back to the tower.

when she arrived, she was met with many confused yet concerned looks from the tower staff, seeing the black widow, rushing in with the youngest avenger unconscious in her arms. they had seen you leave the tower for school about half an hour ago so they knew something must've happened on the way.

"get bruce in the hospital wing. tell him it's urgent." she tells the woman working the front desk, hurrying into the elevator and telling FRIDAY to get her to the floor she so desperately wanted to arrive at quicker. black lines appeared on the left side of your neck, slowly spreading to the right side and she assumed it was from that damned dart in your left shoulder.

"natasha! what's wrong? they said it was an emergency," the doctor spoke in a panicked voice when nat entered, immediately going quiet when he saw you in her arms, neck lined with seemingly black veins.

nat laid you down on the surgery table, frown growing when black lines steadily spread to your arms now. though she was too worried to think, she managed to at least tell bruce what was outwardly wrong with you.

"dart. left shoulder." she blurted, incapable of forming proper sentences now that she had seen more of you. the black lining your skin got her speechless and anxious. bruce got ready with medical gloves, removing the dart from your flesh before analysing the pattern of your skin. it looked familiar.

"FRIDAY, get tony down here. it's urgent."

"bruce, please, what's wrong with her?" she cried, tears now freely streaming down her face. she didn't cry much in front of anyone but when it came to you, you always managed to get her to do just that.

"hey, what's going on? FRIDAY said there was an emergency here, who's hurt?" nat heard tony's panicked voice but she didn't make an effort to reply. her gaze was fixed on only you.

tony's jaw dropped, frowning when he saw you on the bed, upper body covered in black lines. "what the hell happened?!"

tony stepped beside bruce, taking a closer look at your skin. his frown deepened. "wait, it looks like.."

"yeah, looks exactly like when you had palladium instead of vibranium in your arc reactor."

"does that mean—"

"palladium's been running through her veins for about twenty minutes now. FRIDAY, how high is her blood toxicity level?" bruce asks, sampling a drop of your blood from when he took out the dart.

"53% and it is still steadily increasing."

"tony, at the rate it's going, if she's not treated in the next fifteen minutes or so, she'll.." bruce pauses, not wanting to say it out loud.

"no, she just needs lithium dioxide. that's how fury and i cured your palladium poisoning, tony." nat finally speaks.

"SHIELD probably has them but they're all the way in dc. they're not gonna reach here in time," tony states solemnly, reaching over to move your hair out of your face, looking down at you sadly.

but he was immediately pulled aside, nat grabbing his collar and looking him straight in the eyes. "you have your stupid iron suits that can probably travel faster than the speed of sound if you try. you can go down there yourself and get the damn thing. i swear to god, tony, i'm literally going to destroy those stupid suits myself if you don't put them to good use." nat threatens, glaring at the billionaire.

tony's eyes widened, the genius having not thought about nat's idea yet. "yeah, yeah, you're right, i'll go now."

he left immediately and nat approached your bed hesitantly, not wanting to see the black lines making home on the skin on your upper body. "do you think tony'll make it back in time?" she sniffles and bruce's worried frown on his face softened. "of course he will. he won't let anything happen to y/n. we won't let anything happen to y/n." he assured her.

there was nothing they could do now but wait for tony to come back with the lithium dioxide. nat sat beside your bed, hands gingerly grasping one of your own. despite the black staining it, nat held it to her face and her tears rolled past the back of your hand.

bruce decided to give her some privacy, opting to inform the whole team of the situation instead of standing around idly.

nat pulled your hand away from her face, rubbing her thumb over the back of it, crying even more at the sight in front of her. "y/n, please. i've never told you this but i need you." she pauses, breathing in shakily. "i've always needed you and i'll always need you. you can't leave me, please. you said i could go on with life without you but you're so wrong, y/n. you're the reason i'm still here and you're the reason i still want to be here. if you're not here then it's as if i have no reason, no purpose. i need you, y/n. so much more than i'd like to admit. heck, probably much more than you need me. so please, don't leave me. i can't do this without you." nat sobs out, watching the patterns on your skin spreading and growing bolder.

at this point, the whole team had now gathered outside of the room, watching nat cry over you. they wanted so bad to get a closer look at their beloved baby avenger but they respected nat and instead, waited for her to finish talking to you. once she stood up and looked around, bruce knew she was done so he entered, followed by the team.

"status, FRIDAY?" bruce asks, sampling a bit of your blood again. "blood toxicity at 96% now."

the team looked your unconscious body in apprehension, some crying and some worried out of their minds.

"goddamnit! where the hell is stark?!" nat growled. her eyes were now puffy after having spent the last half an hour crying. the team had never seen her lose her cool like this but they figured why.

as if on cue, tony's iron man suit crashed through the windows of the room but he couldn't care less. his main priority was to get to you quickly. in his hand was a silver briefcase that he passed to bruce.

bruce opened the case before wasting no time in plunging the syringe containing lithium dioxide, your supposed cure, into you. immediately, the black patterns on your skin started disappearing. it was slow but noticeable. it started from the tips of your fingers, going up towards your neck.

everyone sighed in relief, and to tony's surprise, nat hugged him tightly. "thank you. you have no idea how much this means to me." she whispers. tony pats her back gently. "hey, i care about her too, okay? of course i'd do this for her. any one of us would."

nat smiles at him when she let him go, turning back to you and almost crying out in joy when your skin had finally turned back to normal. she let the medical assistants set your bed up and handle your sprained ankle before going back to sit by you. the team left her alone with you once again.

it was only about an hour later did you wake up, squinting when bright lights shone down on you. you moved around but you felt hands around your left and you heard a familiar voice.

"and remember when you dragged wanda to pull that prank on me with you and after you did, i grounded you like i was your mum or something?" you hear her chuckle, still not noticing that you've woken up.

"i didn't mind, though. frankly, i don't think i would ever mind if you continued acting like my mother or something," you spoke and she immediately tore her gaze from your hands, looking at you, now wide awake.

"bub!" she hugs you so tightly you didn't think you could breathe. you still returned the hug though, laughing. "i was worried you might still have some palladium in your bloodstream."

"wait, palladium?" you asked her in shock. "yeah, the dart that got you in that alley, it contained palladium. it's highly toxic so we used lithium dioxide to counter it. speaking of the dart, i'm going to find out who did this to you and they're never going to see the light of day for putting us through all of this." nat says, disturbingly calm.

"yeah...you do that," you tell her, slightly scared. "but palladium? in my blood? how cool is that? i had literal metal in my blood! i could've become like tony but like...palladium woman or something." you said excitedly.

"you do know we already have metal in our blood, right bub?" nat questions in amusement. "oh." you say dumbly. "and palladium don't belong in our body and you literally almost died because of it." your mouth opened but no words came out.

"speaking of, can you please not do that again? i really thought i was gonna lose you." she whispers, stroking your hair. "oh yeah, of course. i'll just announce to the whole world to not target the youngest avenger," you joke, smile dropping when nat gave you a stern look.

"nat, being part of the avengers at my age undoubtedly means i'll be a target for the bad people out there, but i don't care because while i get to kick ass, i know all of you have my back when it's my ass that's kicked. and i think that's the best part of being an avenger; the sense of security i get having you amazing people as my teammates." you tell her honestly and she smiles softly.

"oh come here you," she pulls you in for another hug but this time it's better because you could still breathe. you make yourself comfortable, snuggling into her.

"did you mean it?" she asked and you look up at her in confusion. "mean what?"

"when you said you wouldn't mind me acting like your mother."

"of course i do, you're like the mother i never had. i wouldn't even mind you being my actual mother." you say without a second thought, eyes widening when you realised what you had said. you swore under your breath, knowing you've just made it awkward between you two.

"i– really?" despite the teams efforts to make her see the truth, it was much more meaningful when she heard you say it yourself. "y–yeah.." you admit sheepishly.

"then you wouldn't mind if i actually adopted you?" she asks carefully, gauging your reaction. your jaw dropped, eyes going wide once again. "are you serious?!"

"yeah." she smiles at you fondly. "no! of course i won't mind!" you hug her tightly, tears forming in your eyes. you had gone all your life without parents so this was a huge thing for you. not only were you going to finally have a mother, but the most amazing woman you knew was going to be your mother.

"mum?" you tested the title, smiling when she acknowledged it. you were now crying in joy.

"hey, don't cry." she soothes you, running a hand up and down your back. "no, no, i'm just so happy. this is the best day of my life." you tell her. "me too, bub."

you stayed in her arms until you fell back asleep, nat tucking you in before going back to sit down on the chair. she looked down at you fondly.

sure, she was scared of the big step she was about to take with you but she had you with her and she knew that was enough. "i love you, y/n." she whispers, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky

[jisungsmochi]

nct dream reaction: them getting jealous when you are getting closer to another member

okay trust me, i’m writing some new fics, i just finished this first so here it is 

mark:

i feel like he is the type of have A LOT of trust in his partner - without trust, he wouldn’t even be in a relationship with someone

he wouldn’t mind you having other guy friends, just as long as you were clear about your relationship with them

he knew that you and renjun were friends prior to your relationship

so naturally, he was aware that you guys were already close

but whenever he saw renjun lean in closer towards you whenever you were talking

or whispering small inside jokes into your ear

he couldn’t help but feel annoyed?

of course he trusted you, and he trusted renjun

but the sight of you two being so close made him feel uneasy

so he would opt to leave the room, not wanting to do or say anything he would regret

as i mentioned, he has a lot of trust in his partner, he wouldn’t want them to not trust him in return

you would run after mark the moment you heard the door close behind him

you approached him cautiously, your fingers softly tapping his shoulder

“hey, are you okay? did i say something?”

“no you didn’t say or do anything at all. it’s just me” he shrugged, fuelling your concern

“what’s up? you know you can tell me” mark begins to feel slightly embarrassed at this point

“i-i was jealous of you and renjun, okay? i know it’s silly” it caught you off guard, you never really saw mark as the jealous type

but this only meant that he really liked you

you shook your head playfully, wrapping your arms around his torso, smiling into his chest

“it’s not silly, you can tell me how you feel. i actually prefer it, rather than you leaving and staying quiet, you know?” mark just nods, his hand rubbing your back softly

he was so lucky to have someone like you in his life, everything felt complete

renjun:

hmm i have some mixed feelings about how he would react

i feel like he would go for someone who is independent and has their own strong personality

basically he would prefer a partner that isn’t too dependent on him, you know?

but when he sees how social / close you’ve become with jaemin, he’s about to lose it completely

jaemin was naturally flirty, and you were naturally enticing to be around

that mix was not a good look in renjun’s eyes

he wanted nothing more than to pry you away from his friend

but he didn’t want to be labelled as the ‘possessive’ or ‘overbearing’ boyfriend

you would always shift your eyes to make contact with renjun’s, assuring him that you were still paying attention to him

but it still wasn’t enough for him to stop feeling jealous

once jaemin laid his hand on your shoulder and moved closer to you (a little too close to comfort for renjun) — he snapped

renjun would excuse the both of you, pulling you along with him out of the room

“i-i don’t like jaemin touching you like that”

you found it slightly amusing that he was jealous. of course you took it as a friendly touch, but you understood how it looked to renjun

“that’s just how he is. you’re the only one i want to hold hands with” you link your hands with his tightly

he starts to go quiet

“and you’re the only one i want to kiss” you peck his cheek gently “like this”

renjun felt his cheeks heat up from the touch, immediately feeling shy infront of you

“o-okay, i just got jealous, that’s all” he pouted

“i know, and that’s okay! just remember that i’m all yours, and only yours, okay?”

jeno:

very very protective

makes it clear that he can get jealous but you had never seen it first hand

so when he saw you laugh a bit too hard at one of haechan’s jokes, he felt his heart slightly ache

‘i’m not as funny as haechan’

‘they looks so much happier with him’ he would think to himself

despite his tough exterior, jeno had a lot of insecurities inside

he doesn’t think he has ever seen you laugh that hard at one of his jokes before

so he starts to get quiet, distracting himself with his phone

suddenly the laugher stops as you make you way to sit down next to your boyfriend

he honestly would be a bit petty at first, only responding with one word answers, until haechan calls him out

“dude, get off your phone and talk to your partner”

“dude, how about you stop flirting with my partner then?” jeno grunts, causing the whole room to go quiet.

you felt so embarrassed, apologising to haechan quietly before dragging jeno away from the group

“what was that? it wasn’t cool, you have to apologise to him!” you folded your arms, not comprehending how jeno was feeling

“what? i’m not apologising. you obviously enjoyed his flirting!”

“jeno, you’re being quite unreasonable right now. it was just some harmless jokes, nothing more” you tried to reassure him

he knew you were right, but he was stubborn at times

“look at me” you brought his face between your palms

“go and apologise to haechan, and then we can go home and cuddle, and also have a deep talk about all of this. sound good?” you suggested

jeno nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead

he was whipped for you, this only solidified how he truly felt

haechan:

oh the pettiest of them all

would make it known he was NOT happy with you leaning in so close to mark

you were at a formal function for the celebration of their new album dropping

a lot of people attended, meaning you had to lean in closer than usual just to hear someone speak

haechan couldn’t hide his jealousy when you slapped mark’s shoulder playfully

“jeez, stop shooting holes into mark’s head!” jaemin joked, causing haechan to start glaring at him

renjun tried his best to call down the heated boy

“you know mark wouldn’t ever try anything, don’t get it all twisted in your head, alright?”  

haechan just nodded, he knew renjun was just speaking facts

you eventually went to seek out your boyfriend, catching him by the drinks table

“hey, where have you been? i was looking everywhere for you”

“clearly not everywhere”

that caught you off guard

“excuse me? what’s your deal?”

haechan sighs at you, knowing that he shouldn’t have been snappy towards you

“let’s just not make it a bigger deal than it is, i was just jealous of how close you and mark were tonight. you barely talked to me, that’s all” he tried to shrug it off, but you knew him better than that

you placed a firm squeeze to your boyfriend’s shoulder

“if it upset you so much, you know you could have just talked to me? i would never intentionally ignore you like that, i was just so excited for tonight”

haechan nods, pulling you to his side slowly, his arm latched to your waist

“i know and i’m sorry, would you care to dance?” he slightly bit the side of his lip as you nodded enthusiastically

“of course i would” you would drag him to the dance floor as you swayed along to a random ballad playing through the speakers

the rest of the night was full of laughter and smiles once haechan realised he was worried for no damn reason

jaemin:

i see him as someone who can get easily jealous

if another guy even looked at you the wrong way, jaemin has his eyes on them

i feel like he does have self control tho and would choose to not act upon his jealousy

but one day he just snapped

you were playing video games with jeno while you were waiting for jaemin to come home

it wasn’t unusual for you to do so

but one time you didn’t greet jaemin when he came through the door because you were too engrossed in the game

he wouldn’t say anything at first, understanding that you just wanted to beat jeno’s ass

so he makes himself a sandwich before sitting down on the couch with you, pulling you to his side

you slightly shrug him off,

“hey, let me finish this round” you don’t even look at him, which made jeno chuckle

jaemin glared at his friend, but was still in shock by your reaction

“jaem, they’re good at this game, have you been teaching them?” jeno nudges you gently as he continued to play

jaemin was beyond pissed at this point

not only was his significant other ignoring him but his friend was sitting a little too close for his liking

he tries to grab your attention again, tugging on the sleeve of your hoodie, pressing his cheek to your shoulder

“baby, i missed you” he whispered in your ear, distracting you from the game, making you lose the round

“jaem, look what you did now!” you pout, turning to face him

jeno sensed there was tension and quickly scurried off to his own room

“i’m sorry i ruined your SUPER fun game with jeno” he scoffed

“oh please, you know we are just friends. the ONE time i don’t give you an ounce of attention, you wanna act up huh?”

jaemin was now pouting, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater

you let out a sigh before moving to sit closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder

“i’m sorry, i was just getting jealous of how close you guys are now, i want you to play games with me instead! i can teach you everything he can!”

you shook your head before linking your fingers with his

“i know you can, how about tomorrow? the whole day will be just for you and me!” jaemin’s eyes gleamed at the thought, attacking you with hugs and kisses

‘well that was easier than expected’ you thought to yourself

chenle:

seems like the jealous type

idk i get them vibes ya know?

let’s say you invited jisung to go shopping with you while chenle had a different schedule

at first, he’d be like ‘oh yeah go for it!’ bc well, it was just jisung

he had nothing to be worried about

but once he saw you post multiple stories on instagram of yours and jisung’s day out, he couldn’t help but be filled with rage

from eating cute cafe desserts, to buying plushies and even going to the arcade together

chenle was upset to say the least

not only did he miss out on spending time with you, he felt you were slowly replacing him with his best friend

but of course that was the furthest thing from the truth

the tipping point was when jisung posted a mirror selfie of the two of you wearing matching bucket hats

chenle felt his heart ACHE

when you both returned to the dorms, chenle immediately snatched you away, refusing to even greet jisung

jisung stood there like 🧍🏻

anyways chenle would drag you to his room, shutting the door quickly

you were so mf confused

“be honest, do you like jisung more than me?”

you were flabbergasted, was he on crack?

“what? where is this coming from? of course i don’t like him more than you!”

chenle allowed himself to calm down before continuing, shouting wasn’t going to get him anywhere

“well then why did you do so many fun things with him today? you even got matching hats!” he frowned, folding his arms

“we were just hanging out as friends! i promise. and we actually bought you a hat too! i wanted us to all be matching, since we were like a trio. i didn’t know that upset you”

he felt like a complete idiot

“n-no i’m sorry i assumed things, please don’t hate me” chenle pulled you into his chest

“i could never hate you, even if i tried” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his torso

jisung:

oh boy

he’s the silent type,, he would want to avoid any awkward confrontation at all costs

he would bottle up his jealousy until one day he just explodes

i feel like jisung needs a lot of reassurance if he was in a relationship

he didn’t like the sinking feeling in his stomach whenever he saw you and chenle together

things such as playful hits to the shoulder or chest, loud laughter and friendly compliments were seen as subtle flirtations to jisung

you would always try your best to include jisung in your inside jokes with chenle but he’d always shrug it off

“nah it’s just a thing between you two”

comments like those, rubbed you the wrong way and you could tell chenle was slightly bothered too

each time you tried to ask jisung about it, he’d brush it off

“i don’t know what you’re talking about”

“are you sure? because you were kind of being cold to us, don’t you think?”

“doesn’t feel nice when you’re excluded, does it?” you were beyond confused

“can you please talk to me about what’s going on? i don’t like seeing you like this” you pull jisung to across from you on his bed

he avoided your eyes at all costs, fiddling with his rabbit plushie

“i’m jealous” he mumbled

“come again?”

“IM JEALOUS OKAY?” he threw his hands in the air hysterically, catching you off guard

“sometimes i don’t like how close you are with chenle. it seems like you are closer to him than me! i want to make you laugh like that, and i want to buy you nice things. and i want you to hit me playfully”

you listened closely to each concern

you brought your hand to enclose his, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles

“jisung, you’re the only person in this world that makes me laugh so hard that my ribs hurt. buying me nice things won’t change how i already feel towards you. and we can definitely try to be more playful with eachother” you started running your hands through his hair as he slowly shuffled closer to you

“t-thankyou, it’s nice to get it off my chest”

“of course, you have nothing to worry about” you placed a kiss to his forehead as you both spent the night cuddling

[theweasleysredhair]

Distracted [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2628

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Fred Weasley is hot and boy, does he know it.

WARNINGS: it’s a lil spicy, read with caution. a couple of saucy comments, just the usual with fred idk.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i am really feeling fred atm, so here’s an extremely self-indulgent freddie thirst fic for all my lovelies who are also irrevocably in love with him - enjoy!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Fred Weasley knew just how to get under your skin. It was a skill he had, a talent of knowing exactly what to do to get you hot and bothered, especially when you weren’t expecting it. It was especially frustrating when you couldn’t do anything about it, considering you were stuck in limbo between being friends and being more, and whilst you liked the lingering stares and longing touches, you couldn’t help but want more with him.

You had hoped he would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball last year - in fact, everyone was insistent that he would - but then he’d asked Angelina instead, which was hard to watch - George had laughed with his brother, but had grabbed your hand under the table in comfort - and made you doubt Fred actually returned your feelings at all.

Despite this, you’d actually ended up going to the ball with an extremely cute Durmstrang boy yourself, so you weren’t completely complaining, and of course, Fred had actually ended the night with you in his arms, dancing to the musical stylings of The Weird Sisters. It was also the night of your first - and only - kiss with Fred, under the stars in the Courtyard, in front of the fountain.

It was perfect, and you thought maybe things would change between you, maybe you’d be more, however when he didn’t act any different, never mentioned it again, you decided to keep quiet about it too.

In fact, you’d been pretty good at keeping your feelings under wrap since then. Of course, everyone knew how you felt - or at the very least, suspected - but no one said a word (besides Hermione, who you’d confessed everything to after she’d asked about it, knowing she wouldn’t say a word but also that she wouldn’t stop asking until she knew the truth).

And you were fine. Everything was fine. Until you got invited to the Burrow a few weeks before summer ended, and when you’d arrived after a month or so of not seeing Fred, you’d felt winded at his first smile of greeting, and felt your heart beating out of your chest when he’d pulled you into a hug, holding you against him as you buried your face into the jumper he was wearing at the time.

His hair had been cut since you’d last seen him on the Hogwarts Express, and whilst you’d liked the long hair - had enjoyed the way it had felt as you ran your hands through it that one time you’d kissed him - you couldn’t help how attracted you were to him with shorter hair, constantly feeling the urge to tug at it whenever you saw him.

He looked especially good when his hair was all tousled, windswept - exactly like it was as you watched him sitting on his broomstick outside as he waited for his siblings to be ready to play a last practise game of Quidditch before you’d all be leaving for 12 Grimmauld Place before the school year started back up again.

You were sat at a table in the kitchen underneath the large window overlooking the garden, giving you a perfect view of the sunshine and your friends playing Quidditch. Also a perfect view of Fred wearing a tight t shirt, holding his beater’s bat behind his neck, resting it on his shoulder blades as he showed off his biceps and laughed as Ron nearly fell off his broom due to a particularly sharp dig from Ginny’s elbow.

They’d asked if you or Hermione wanted to join, however you knew you wouldn’t be much use playing Quidditch when Fred was being as distracting as his was, and besides, you had a Herbology project to work on. Hermione had also elected not to play, not having much of an interest in playing Quidditch, and instead resided in her room with a book she’d borrowed from Molly.

You glanced out of the window as the boys flew up on their broomsticks, letting the quaffle, snitch and bludgers fly out, immediately beginning to play. You’d always loved watching Quidditch at Hogwarts, cheering for your house and the excitement and thrills that came with it. There was always an added element when you knew that Fred was playing too.

He was a good beater - possibly the best in Hogwarts, tied with George - his actions fluid as he flew around the air with ease, practicing new strategies and working on his skills after a school year of being unable to play due to the Triwizard Tournament taking over.

You watched his arms clench as he hit the bludgers away, his hands grasping the bat in a way you wanted him to grasp you. Something about the way he flew around and hit the bludgers so easily made you sigh contently as you set your quill to one side, forgetting about your project.

The exercise coupled with the midday August heat meant practise didn’t last too long - much to your dismay - but enough to make Fred sweaty, clearly breathing heavily as he jumped off his broom and grabbed a water of bottle he’d discarded to one side before playing.

He downed nearly half the bottle, before wafting his t shirt a little to cool himself down, then suddenly, as if someone had taken one of your daydreams and brought it to life, he lifted the bottle and tipped it over his head, the water cascading down his hair and face.

You watched as if it were in slow motion, the water drenching his already tight-fitting t shirt, the fabric clinging to the outline of his abs as he closed his eyes and let the water cool him down.

His biceps clenched as he brought his arm back down again, and you were once again brought to the attention of his hands gripping the bottle, gaze following along his forearms as you stared at the veins protruding.

Your mouth dropped a little, heart pounding as you watched water droplets fall down his face and collarbone, as he opened his eyes and ran a hand through his now wet hair sticking to his forehead, trying to mess it up a little more.

He then pulled up the bottom of his t shirt to wring out the excess water, exposing his abdomen and suddenly you forgot how to function, barely being able to breathe as you took in the sight.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen and wandered by your table, noticing your faraway look and the fact you hadn’t actually started your project yet. She grabbed some leftover food from the counter and turned to look at you.

“Fred Weasley is what’s wrong,” you grumbled, turning away from watching him reluctantly, “He’s infuriating... ly good looking.”

Hermione shook her head with a soft smile, “I really don’t know what you see in him.”

Thoughts of Fred wearing a wet t shirt danced through your mind as you swallowed harshly. “I don’t know either,” you lied.

“Well, let me know if you want any help with your project - I’ve finished mine,” Hermione offered as she headed out of the kitchen. You called out a “Thank you!” to her retreating form as your attention was pulled back to the eldest twin outside.

He was laughing at something someone had said, before he began making his way towards the back door, which so happened to be near where you were sitting.

Your heart was pounding as he entered the room, you averting your gaze from him as you pretended you were looking at anything but him.

“Like what you saw?” His voice suddenly rang out through the room. You looked over at him - it taking all your effort to not stare at the way his shirt was clinging to him - and cleared your throat, blinking up at him innocently.

“Excuse me?”

“Noticed you watching me outside, especially at the end. Darling, do you find me pouring water down myself attractive?” Fred replied with a cheeky grin shot in your direction, before heading over to a high cabinet and grabbing a glass out, filling it from the tap.

“I didn’t even notice,” you shook your head adamantly, sneakily staring at the way his drenched t shirt accentuated the way the muscles in his back moved.

Fred’s smug expression as he turned around told you he didn’t believe you in the slightest, “Are you sure? Because it definitely seemed like you were enjoying the view.”

“Don’t be daft, I’ve been here working on my Herbology project,” you gestured to the parchment in front of you, gulping as you realised you still hadn’t actually written a word down, much less even opened your textbook.

Fred smirked as he noticed this, bringing his glass of water to his lips slowly as he took a sip, “You do realise windows work two ways, right love?”

And indeed, this had been a fact you’d forgotten, in your distracted haze. You felt your heart beating faster as you hoped - prayed - he was just playing around and didn’t actually look up to see you ogling him from the window. How embarrassing.

“I am aware of that, yes,” you nearly stuttered, hoping you came across nonchalantly but knowing by the grin widening on his face that you’d failed.

“So you know I could see you checking me out, right? All your staring,“ he teased, running a hand through his wet hair and making you forget where you were for a moment.

“I wasn’t staring at you,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “I was staring at George.”

“Oh yeah? If that’s true, what colour shirt was George wearing?”

You knew he knew he had you with that, as your mind went blank. Because truthfully, the only person you’d been staring at was, in fact, Fred, and you hated that he was extremely aware of that.

“Green?” You guessed, hoping your guess was miraculously correct. Watching as Fred grinned at you knowingly, you knew immediately you’d gotten it wrong.

“Red,” he corrected and you sighed helplessly.

You stood up to face him properly, pushing your hair back out of your face as you looked up at him. Fred’s eyes travelled down your frame for a few seconds, him absent-mindedly biting his lip at the sight of you.

He blinked, taking in the sight of you wearing denim shorts, fitted to your thighs - thighs he wanted wrapped around him - and his breath caught in his throat as he realised the light coloured shirt you were wearing, knotted at your waist and showing a slither of your stomach, was in fact his.

He found himself distracted, vaguely aware that you were speaking to - or rather, ranting at - him, as he stared at you, before zoning back in just as he heard you say, “I mean, what would you do if I suddenly grabbed a bottle of water and poured it over me?”

Images began flying through his head. There were a lot of things he would do, most of which involved him pressed against you and his hands all over you, preferably with you moaning his name.

“Maybe you should do it and find out,” he said completely seriously, wanting nothing more than to watch as you poured water down yourself.

You rolled your eyes, albeit feeling a tad flustered, “Can you just... change your shirt please.”

“Why, is something distracting you, love?” He asked almost innocently, tilting his head to one side - almost as if in concern, however his cocky grin told you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

You gulped, not being able to stop your eyes from wandering down to his clenched abs, covered by the wet material of his t shirt yet not leaving much to the imagination. He, of course, noticed this and saw an opportunity to tease you even more.

“Well, if you really want me out of this shirt...” he sighed playfully and shook his head with a smile, before placing his glass down and grabbing the bottom of his shirt, and pulling it - slowly - off of him.

You watched as the fabric pulled from his skin, knowing he was doing it on purpose yet not being able to turn away, your mouth dropping a little as he exposed his toned torso, shorts hanging low on his hips.

You felt your mouth go dry, eyes widening a little, both mentally cursing and proposing to him just from this sight alone.

He pulled the shirt over his head and ran a hand through his hair again, and you fought the urge to dramatically collapse back into the chair behind you as he smirked at you.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

“Fred,” you spoke warningly, forcing yourself to look back up to his eyes - which, unfortunately for you, were just as distracting.

“Y/n,” he replied with a cheeky grin, leaning back against the counter, his hands gripping onto the counter sides, making the veins in his forearms pop out, and you swore you lost the ability to breathe in that moment.

“I mean it.”

“What? I’m not doing anything,” he pretended to be innocent, “It’s too hot to wear a t shirt at the moment.”

“You’re too hot,” you mumbled under your breath, then cleared your throat, hoping he didn’t quite catch what you said. When he didn’t react, you assumed he hadn’t and continued on, “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re insufferable.”

Fred stepped closer to you, enjoying the way your breath hitched as his hand reached out to hold your waist. He then leant forward, his face centimetres from yours, a smirk gracing his lips as his tongue darted out across his bottom lip, “You know you love me.”

“Oh do I now?” You moved a little closer, looking up into his eyes as he moved his lips subconsciously towards yours. “Yeah,” he confirmed, nodding a little, eyes half-lidded, “You do.”

He paused for a moment, his free hand reaching to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as he cupped your jaw, “And I love you.”

“Do you?” You whispered as his lips brushed against yours gently.

“Course I do,” he mumbled, looking at you softly before pressing his lips properly against yours, the hand on your waist squeezing a little before moving to rest against the small of your back, pushing you towards him to ensure there was no space left between you.

His lips moved against yours roughly, his tongue licking into your mouth as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down towards you. His hands guided themselves to hold the back of your thighs, just under your bum, and you only just heard the “Jump.” that he’d muttered against you, before you did as he said.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and he sat you on the table beside your long-forgotten project, him leaning you back on said table ever so slightly as he gripped your hips. One of your hands moved to lay flat on his bare chest, the other running through his still-damp hair and tugging a little just as you’d imagined.

He pulled away, breathing heavily as he continued to press kisses to your lips, moving down your jaw and towards your neck.

“Still want me to put a shirt back on?” He grinned against your skin. “Nah,” you bit your lip as he kissed just under your ear, before moving to grab his hands in yours, jumping off the table and pulling him towards the stairs, aiming to head towards his bedroom,

“I’d rather just take mine off instead.”

[timextoxhajima]

2. 3 words, 8 letters - I "hate" you

❆ title: i hate you

❆ member: enhypen sunghoon

❆ wc: 1.4k

❆ warnings: idk just alot of angst

❆ synopsis: “If I had told you that I'd never hurt you, would you believe?”

❆ send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it [closed]

autumn. the entire afternoon, he didn’t even look at you. he may have been in your bed, playing with his phone and aggressively tapping away at the screen like he normally would, but he didn’t say a single word. not to you, not at the screen or at the automated characters in the game. 

“are you alright?” a gentle crease strains your brows. “you’ve been... very quiet since you came over.”

“i’m fine,” he brushes it off, doesn’t even bother looking away from his phone. “i’m just... thinking about stuff.”

your thumb locks your phone, eyes drifting from the screen to him. “thinking about what? tell me about it.”

“i don’t want to.”

cold.

“why not? was it something i did earlier that pissed you off or did something happen at home?”

silence. 

“oi,” gently wrapping your fingers around his hands that were holding his phone, you pull the device out from between his hands. “talk to me. what’s wrong?”

he rolls his eyes in exasperation, poking the inner side of his cheek with his tongue as he sits up in your bed. his back creaks against the cushioned head board, the back of his head resting on the blue wall. 

the royal blue shade flushes kind memories through your mind - sunghoon had helped you paint your walls just a year ago. 

“do you remember when you kicked the can of paint over? my god, it was so expensive and i was so mad-”

“stop.”

a sudden chill runs down your spine. there are a few moments of silence; heavy tension in the air, before you finally sit up and look to him.

“hey, i didn’t mean to bring that up if you didn’t like it. i just thought-”

“no, i’m saying we should stop.”

a gentle frown draws across your forehead.

“did i do something wrong? i-”

“no, i just-” sunghoon pushes himself off the bed, running his hand through his hair and picking up his phone. “i don’t think this is it. you and me. us.”

“i don’t get it. if i didn’t do anything wrong, then what is wrong?”

“what’s wrong is that i don’t love you, okay?” he grabs his hoodie and pulls it over his head. 

“wha...?”

“in fact,” he licks his slightly-chapped lips, thick brows almost pasted to one another, and his eyes had seemed to lost the light you once thought were for you. how could he say that so easily? “i hate you.”

pent up frustration yanks his chin away from you. watch him pick up his bag, full of your memories with him, full of laughter and cries and smiles that you had shared with him, that you had fallen in love with him over. 

“sunghoon, what-”

“don’t,” he swings his bag over his shoulder and turns, just enough to show you his side profile. “don’t call me ever again. delete my number. i’ll be blocking you from all our social medias.”

so, the door swings shut behind him, and there are soft whispers from outside as he bids your family goodbye. 

the room still smells like him. your fucking bed probably smells like him. the walls have been painted by him. the pictures of your phone either have him or were taken by him. 

the downfall of falling in love is that the same person who can give you anything, can take away everything. 

you find yourself zoning out as you sit at the edge of your bed, tears silently streaming down your face and soaking the ends of your sleeves. your mucus has long stained the lines of your lips and your cheeks are bloated from the quiet crying. 

no reason. no explanation.

now all you know is that he hates you. 

knock knock knock

winter. snow. snow angels. snow flakes. ice. 

“i know you’re in there! please open the door and come out!” jake’s voice is muffled through the door. the shadows stretched from under the door shifts restlessly, but you’re stuck to your bed like gum to hair. 

“please. if you don’t see him off at the airport, you’ll never see him for the next few years. what if he stays? what if he doesn’t want to come back? you can still make it in time and you can still come to some kind of agreement.”

the sour in your nose starts to spread through your nasal cavities again, and you can feel the lump of sobs stuck in the back of your throat. it feels like someone had just punched you in the gut so hard that your stomach was going to tumble out from your mouth. 

“you can’t possibly believe that he’s leaving because he meant what he said! this is... his dream. he was absolutely torn just by thinking about this, god! none of us knew he was going to pull this stunt!”

a soft thunk. the shadows stop shifting, but he’s standing directly against the door. he probably has his forehead shoved against the wood.

“y/n, please. we can’t stand by and watch this go to waste like that. we all knew sunghoon had nothing but eyes for you and he still does, i swear to god. he only said that because he didn’t want you to commit to a long-distance relationship and possibly neglect you but... you’ll get through it, won’t you?”

“is she not coming out?”

“no. she’s not responding.”

“move over. y/n, it’s jungwon.”

you sit up slowly, starting to wonder if sunghoon’s entire friend group is standing right outside your door. 

“sunghoon told me not to tell you this... or anybody in fact, but he said he’d be too greedy if he wanted both you and skating. he said... that he thinks he doesn’t deserve you, and that no matter how hard he tried, there would still come a time that he might hurt you. he said that skating is technical and can be improved and the only person getting hurt from it is him, but he can’t bear to hurt you ever. not now, not in the future.”

“since when did he say that?”

riki. 

“shut up- you ask the worst questions at the worst timings ever.”

sunoo. 

“y/n, are you listening? sunghoon still loves you and he never meant it when he said he hates you. he said it as... as an attempt to hurt you one last time, so you’ll stay and he’ll go live his dreams while thinking he’s protecting you.”

“we all know that’s bullshit, by the way.”

jay.

“jay!”

heeseung.

“what?! it’s true!”

by now, you’re standing with your hand on the door handle. the only thing between you and his friends was the door, and a broken heart that might just be too far for redemption. 

the jostle outside continues, and the shadows start shifting all over again as the boys squabble to get the door open. 

but it stops abruptly, and you see the light under the door shine through before it’s shadowed again.

“y/n.”

sunghoon. 

he tries the door, but you’re too frightened to open it. why would you open your heart to someone who has broken it before?

“please... open up. i... i thought that this would be the easiest and the best way to make sure you were safe from all the things i wanted to do... but i am far from right and i can’t... i’m- i’m sorry... that i chose to go down this route. i just... i never want to see you like this. i’m sorry.”

your trembling fingers kiss the cold metal of the door knob lock, and you twist it with a click.

the winter coat is snug around his shoulder, and he has a scarf around his neck with a passport boarding pass sticking out from one of his coat pockets. the cracks in his heart when he sees your face shows in his eyes as glistening tears, arms opening wide as he takes a step forward.

a sharp exhale, followed by sudden, almost-violent sobs into his coat as he sinks to the ground with your head in his shoulder. he rests his cheek against your head, hands stroking your hair.

“i can never hate you, i promise.”

[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.

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Raymond Holt, Rosa Diaz

Warnings: theft

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case. 

Part Two: Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Word Count: 2,697

A/N: my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge! i know everyone wanted me to post the whole fic at once but then it ended up being 5k+ words i made the executive decision that it was probably best for everyones sanity to split it up into 2 parts. think of it as a commercial break in the episode <3 i’m gonna disclaimer this by saying that i’m not a cop or in law enforcement. idk how this shit works. i tried my best but this isn’t legally accurate. anyway! based on the prompt: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.” 

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

“Not late! I’m not late!” Jake announces, rushing into the briefing room with his bag still slung over his shoulder. He ignores the eye rolls from Amy and Terry, and plops down in the seat Charles has saved for him. He leans back, dumping his bag on the floor as he tries to catch his breath, before noticing Holt’s disapproving stare. “I’m not! Look, I’m right on time!”

Jake points over at the clock hanging on the wall, and Holt glances over his shoulder before turning back to Jake. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Peralta. That clock broke down two days ago.”

Jake takes a proper look at the clock, which, sure enough, is frozen at three minutes past two o’clock. 

“Okay, well…” Jake cringes. “I had a flat tire?” 

“As I was saying,” Holt ignores Jake’s excuse, reorganizing the case files on the podium as the squad quickly focuses. Pulling up a few pictures on the television, Holt curtly explains, “Two bodegas were robbed last night, and we suspect it may be the same person, or group or people, who robbed the three bodegas last week. Thankfully, no one was injured, but we need to crack down on this case before it happens again.” 

The squad nods in agreement, and Amy taps her pen against the desk as she takes notes. Gesturing towards Rosa, Holt asks, “Diaz, you were investigating last week’s robberies. Where are you in solving the case?”

“Nowhere, sir.” Rosa begrudgingly admits, folding her arms across her chest as she shakes her head. “Forensics dusted the place for prints but found nothing, and the security footage was crap. Couldn’t pull any good images because it was so old. All I know is that it looks like at least two individuals are involved.” 

Holt slowly nods, pressing his lips together as he deliberates this. Pointing at Jake, he orders, “Conduct some interviews around the block, see if anyone saw anything. Perhaps you’ll have more luck this time. And take Peralta with you, you’ll be able to cover more ground. Everyone, you’re dismissed.” 

Jake looks over his shoulder to exchange a nod with Rosa before everyone gets to their feet. Holt closes up his file, and quickly stops Jake before he can leave the room, “Oh, and Jake?”

Jake pauses in the doorway. “Yes, sir?” 

“While you’re out, you can get some new batteries for the clock.” Holt points back at the defunct clock. Raising an eyebrow, Holt continues, “So next time, you can actually take a look at how late you are.” 

Beside him, Amy can’t help but snort at Jake’s expense, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

—

Jake jogs over to the bodega, a cup of coffee in hand from the nearby food cart. He ducks under the police tape bordering the store, and he gingerly steps around the shattered glass scattered on the pavement. He can already see Rosa inside, taking off her sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of her shirt, and he can see that the forensics team have already marked up the scene. Rosa looks up as Jake approaches, and she informs him, “This one’s different from the others; they actually broke in instead of picking the lock. Otherwise, they took all the cash, and it doesn’t look like anything from the inventory was taken.” 

“Which is kinda weird, considering this place has pretty cool chip flavors and orange soda.” Jake points to a nearby shelf, and Rosa shoots him a look. Shrugging, Jake looks at the rest of the shelves and the fridge as he mumbles to himself, “I’m just saying.” 

“Security footage from this whole week is missing too.” Rosa continues. She groans, shaking her head as she takes another glance around the scene. “I don’t know how we’re going to get anywhere with this.”

The two of them make their way back outside, where a small crowd is now lingering outside the store, curiously trying to peek inside as the cops try to corral everyone. Pointing at them, Rosa suggests, “Maybe we can find a witness.” 

Jake follows her gaze, quickly sweeping over the individuals before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes momentarily meet, but you quickly look away and turn your attention back to the smashed glass. You’re cute, Jake thinks to himself with a grin, all bundled up in a denim jacket that, and when you turn to look at something over your shoulder, he can’t help but notice has a cool design of some planets stitched on the back. Rolling back his shoulders, Jake holds out his cup of coffee, and he says, “Allow me to handle this, Rosa,” 

Rosa rolls her eyes at the annoyingly confident tone Jake quickly adopts, and pointedly refuses to hold Jake’s coffee for him.

“Alright then,” Jake awkwardly takes his coffee back, and he gulps down the rest, fanning his tongue as it burns his mouth. Tossing it aside into a nearby trash can, Jake quickly composes himself, readjusting his jacket before approaching you. He offers you his hand, and you hesitate before shaking it, and Jake introduces, “Hey, I’m Detective Peralta. Cool jacket, by the way.”

“y/n.” you introduce yourself with a small smile, shaking his hand before you pull away to self consciously tug at the sleeves of your jacket. “And thanks. My friend made it for me as a birthday gift.”

“Nice,” Jake grins at you, before gesturing over his shoulder. “You come here often? It’s a pretty awesome bodega.”

“Uh, well, I work here.” you slowly respond, and you can see something in Jake’s expression falter as his cheeks get red. You bite back a smile as you continue, “So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool,” Jake nods, fumbling to come up with a response. His palms suddenly feel sweaty, and he scrambles to think of his next question. 

“I’ll let our owner know, by the way.” you pipe up, and Jake blinks at you. Nervously chuckling, you add, “That you think the bodega is awesome. He’ll appreciate it.” 

“Oh!” Jake laughs, and you can’t help but smile. Gesturing to the store, Jake continues, “I’ve gotta say, your snack selection is the best I’ve ever seen. I mean, you’ve got every flavor of everything in there! Also, any place that carries orange soda is automatically awesome in my book.” 

“Well of course,” you respond with a smile. “It’s the best flavor!” 

“Right?!” Jake perks up, and the both of you dissolve into laughter before Jake looks over his shoulder and notices Rosa glaring at him. Quickly clamming up, Jake attempts to focus himself, and his eyes widen as he remembers the fact that you work here. “Are you the cashier or something?”

“Yep.” you nod, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I just worked yesterday, too. I can’t believe someone robbed it last night.” 

“What time were you here until?” Jake asks. 

“The shop closes around midnight, and I was the one who locked up.” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Jake can’t help but notice as you momentarily break his gaze, and you glance at the store before back at him. “Usually our owner, Gabriel, closes up, but he’s been sick this past week, so I’ve been helping out.”

“Got it,” Jake nods, mentally taking note of all this information. The both of you look up as Rosa joins in on the conversation, and Jake continues, “And I’m assuming you didn’t see any sign of suspicious activity before you left?”

You shake your head, uneasily glancing over at Rosa as she looks at you. “Sorry, Detective.” 

“No, you’ve actually been super helpful.” Jake reassures you, and he offers you a friendly smile that puts you at ease. You relax, and Jake continues, “It helps us roughly estimate when the crime took place. Do you know anything about your security footage, by the way? This is my partner, Detective Diaz, and she noticed the footage was somehow erased.” 

Something in your expression shifts, and Jake can’t quite read the look on your face. Rosa narrows her eyes at you, and after a pause, you respond, “I think our cameras have been down.” 

Jake and Rosa exchange an uncertain glance, and you can feel your stomach twisting into knots as you know they don’t look convinced. The atmosphere becomes intense, especially as you feel yourself under Rosa’s stern gaze, and Jake quickly tries to lighten the mood as he tells you, “I think that’s it. Thanks for answering our questions, y/n.”

You nod, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow as your gaze lingers on him, your lips moving as if you want to tell him more. But you stop yourself, taking in a deep breath, before responding, “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” 

You turn on your heel, and Jake watches as you head down the block. He looks over to see Rosa studying you, before she shakes her head. “I don’t like it, Jake. They seemed suspicious to me.”

“They were just nervous.” Jake finds himself defending you. “And probably a little frazzled, too. They were the last one in the shop, if they had stayed any longer, they could’ve been in danger.” 

“Or they could have something to do with the crime.” Rosa counteracts, and Jake lets out a sigh. Leaning towards him, Rosa continues, “I know we don’t have solid evidence, but I just have a feeling something’s up, Jake. Plus, it doesn’t help that you were flirting.” 

Jake gapes at her. “I was not flirting!” 

“Look, we need to solve this before Holt gets on my case about it.” Rosa insists. Jake lets out a sigh, before glancing down the direction you walked, and he can just barely see your figure heading into the subway station. 

“I’ll be right back.” Jake tells her, and before Rosa can stop him, he jogs after you. By the time he’s entered the station, he’s terribly out of breath, and he manages to catch you before you enter through the turnstile. “y/n!”

You look up upon hearing your name and you pause as Jake stops in front of you. He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and you patiently wait for him. Through heavy breaths, Jake manages to puff out, “Yeah, sorry, super unfit. The chips and the orange soda clearly don’t help.” 

Jake tries his best not to cringe at what he feels like is the lamest joke he’s ever made, but to his surprise, you laugh. A genuine laugh, not a cruel, teasing one, but one with a wide smile that makes Jake feel like he’s on top of the world. Tilting your head, you manage to say in between chuckles, “You’re pretty funny, Detective.” 

“Call me Jake.” Jake insists, finally regaining his breath, and you grin at him. “Hey, any chance I could get your number? For professional reasons of course, in case we need to contact you again. Or I could just give you my number if you feel better doing it that way.”

You seem hesitant, but you nod. He fumbles through his pocket, pulling out an old receipt and a pen that barely has enough ink in it, and you scribble out your number before handing it back to him, “I work every day but Tuesdays, too, so you’ll be able to catch me at work if you need me.” 

“Got it.” Jake nods, tucking the receipt into his pocket. “Thanks for your help, y/n.”

The expression that Jake can’t decipher crosses your face again, a look of pensiveness, of hesitation. But you shake it off, quickly plastering on a smile, and you nod, “Have a good day, Jake. And… good luck.” 

—

Jake and Rosa sit in the break room, a laptop open between them as they flip through countless CCTV videos from the blocks nearby the bodega. Rosa becomes increasingly aggressive with the keyboard with each video she clicks through, and Jake impatiently shakes his head. He groans, rubbing his fingers up against his temple as he complains, “This is killing me. If I have to look at one more minute of another grainy video, I’m going to lose it.”

Rosa rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms across her chest. She kicks Jake’s chair with her boot, and she points out, “This is all we have, Jake.”

Jake sighs, but nods. Rosa had interviewed some people in the neighboring apartments, some of which reported hearing smashed glass around three in the morning, but hadn’t called it in on the assumption it was a clumsy accident from a downstairs neighbor. It at least gave them a time of the crime, but as Rosa unfortunately pointed out, it didn’t give them much else. The CCTV didn’t seem to pick up on anything interesting, no speeding cars, and a brief moment of footage that might’ve captured the suspects only showed their retreating backs. The forensics team had also swept over all the evidence from the bodega, but had yet to find anything incriminating, not even a single fingerprint which could help lead the investigation somewhere. 

“These guys clearly know what they were doing.” Rosa grumbles, jabbing her finger into the screen. “They know to avoid all the camera spots.” 

“I hate smart criminals. Why can’t they all be dumb and just make it easier for us?” Jake whines, and Rosa rolls her eyes. 

“Have you talked to y/n lately?” Rosa asks, and Jake shakes his head, hoping Rosa doesn’t notice the faint blush that lights up his cheeks at the mere mention of your name.

“No, Rosa, who do you think I am? That’s way too forward.” Jake scoffs, before his expression turns serious. It’s been a little over a week since your interaction, and he looks at Rosa before continuing, “Unless you don’t think it’s too forward. Should I text them?”

Rosa resists the urge to punch Jake’s arm, and she deadpans, “Talked to them about the case, Jake, not for a date.” 

“Right.” Jake nods, clearly flustered, and Rosa rolls her eyes again. Wiping his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, Jake corrects himself, “No, I haven’t talked to y/n.”

Rosa leans her elbows forward on the desk. “I think we should call them in again. You know, see if there’s anything we can get out of them. Kind it seems like they’re the only lead we have.”

“You don’t still suspect them, do you?” Jake asks, eyebrows furrowing, and he lets out a sigh as Rosa shrugs. Shaking his head, Jake insists, “I really don’t think it’s them, Rosa.” 

“Jake…” Rosa starts, shooting him a look, and Jake quickly waves his hand, brushing her off as he already knows what’s coming next. 

“Alright, I’ll reach out to them, see if there’s anything more they can tell us.” Jake reluctantly says, and Rosa nods. Pointing back at the computer, Jake asks, “Does this mean I can stop watching these boring videos?”

“Fine.” Rosa grumbles, angling the laptop towards herself as Jake grins. He grabs his jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and he sneaks one last glance at the grainy video before darting out the room. He pauses, his eyes narrowing, and he points at the screen. 

“Wait, what’s that?” Jake points at the corner of the video, where a figure rushes down the street. Rosa squints, and she pauses the video for Jake to get a better look. His eyes widen, and his expression pales slightly, and he asks, “What time was this footage from?”

“Five in the morning.” Rosa replies, checking the timestamp. Looking up at Jake, she asks, “Why? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Jake hurriedly remarks, and Rosa frowns. Before she can demand an answer from Jake, he’s already rushed out of the break room, swiftly exiting the bullpen as he dodges Terry on his way out.

It’s not nothing, but Jake knows he can’t tell Rosa that. Not when the figure in the video was wearing a distinctive denim jacket with planets stitched on the back.

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