#100 fathom curve

[bluemerakis]

okay but imagine being stuck in a room with beau, dean and soldier boy and how the dynamics would fucking CLASH 😭😭

soldier boy’s gonna be all up in your ass with some shit he thinks is slick—barely giving you room to breathe while he tries to coax you into his bed. beau’s 100% horrified at the shit streaming from sb’s mouth and he’s getting all protective and steps in to make sure he’s backing the fuck off of you and sb’s either gonna give in with some disdainful sniff before continuing to smoke away his loss or he’s going to throw one on beau and the two start brawling to the death. and then dean, who was happily watching the drama unfold, is eventually gonna step in to break up the fight and shove the two apart to take a breather—and while they’re recollecting their dignity, he starts chatting it up with you like he’d been waiting all this time to let the other two guys eliminate themselves as worthy candidates.

and like,,, don���t get me started on the bedroom dynamic either. im gonna though sorry 🤷‍♀️

oh soldier boy is SO MEAN. SO primal. so. fucking. rough. like shoving your head into the sheet rough, vice grip on your neck rough, and spanking you until you’re as red as the fucking commie flag he despises. that man is ALL about establishing control and revelling in the way you fall apart under his touch. manhandling more like. it inflates his dick as much as his ego to hear you plead for things you shouldn’t want—everything that he can give you. and the mouth on him is FILTHY. he’s calling you that fuckin’ slut, that velvety soft cock-warmer, his little, dirty cum-guzzler with a palate refined just for him. oh, he wants to RUIN you. wants to leave you so internally branded with his touch that you’ll morph into a lock that can’t be accessed by any key other than his. and he’s so. fucking. possessive. not to mention he’s going to see you on top of fucking cloud nine as you’re riding him, and he’s DYING to further raise you to the skies of fucking heaven by making you snort a line from his stomach or some shit. corruption kink most definitely.

meanwhile, beau can barely fathom how you’re enjoying any of it. through the entirety of it all, he’s lowkey giving sb the stank eye for his lack of respect for women—and you, more importantly. And while he knows you’ve fully consented, it doesn’t stop him from checking in with you every now and again—

“still hangin’ in there, darlin’? you let me know if it becomes too much, yeah? i’ll tell this jackass to dial it down.”

and beau, oh my god, he’s the king of checking in. he’s all about making sure you’re constantly comfortable and enjoying yourself—to the point where soldier boy’s making some remark like,

“what’re you—some fuckin’ gimme a c for consent cheerleader? shut the fuck up, grown a damn pair, ‘nd give the woman what she wants.”

and beau’s lugging in the DEEPEST breath of composure with the most disconcerting glare he can muster before recollecting himself and focusing all his attention back to you. his thrusts are gentle, but not weak—he’s hitting all the right spots with each approach and withdrawal. he’s listening to your breathing, the sounds you spew, and constantly reaching to brush the hair from the grip of your sticky face. and he lowers himself to place a kiss to whichever inch of you is most accessible at the time—favouring the curve of your cheek, where it’s easy for him to dip down to your ear and murmur some words of admiration and encouragement. oh he’s such a fucking praiser and words of affirmation guy. and he’s making sure to soothe every bruised part of you that soldier boy leaves behind, almost always sparing the supe a pointed glare that utters some silent claim of and that’s how you treat a lady. he’s littering kisses along your bruises and easing the tender skin with soothing rubs—cradling you and cherishing you like an expensive, one-of-a-kind china.

and then there’s dear, dear dean. this man is WAITING for his time to shine. i can 100% see him not caring for either of the other two men in the room—his attention’s all on you. when sb’s taking you all the way to nasty town, he’s glancing off to some other corner of the room, but can’t help sneaking occasional glances at your visceral, very verbal reactions. and he lowkey digs it. when he’s got his turn to make you feel things, he’s taking it nice and slow—all at your pace. and you know those fucking love-sick eyes he loves casting? yeah, HE’S GIVING YOU THE FULL-PACKAGE SUBBY LOOK. his every grip on your body is intentional—constructed to make you feel like you’re something he absolutely adores and cannot let go of. like a sentimental keepsake he’ll hold close to him for all the years to come. he’s observing every look ghosting across your features, savouring the way you absentmindedly caress him in the midst of your euphoria—revelling in the spell you cast that makes him feel like he’s all yours for the taking. he wants to be. and he shows you it. he’s simultaneously got his hand down under, adding to your stimulation with a skillful dally. and he does it all just to hear the sounds you make—the way you beg for more of him. all of him. and he unequivocally wants to hand himself over to you. his high only comes on after he’s seen yours through. if anything, your undoing spurs him on. and he’s planting tender kisses along your collarbone and jaw and making sure you know just how well you did for him.

“that was. . . freakin’ somethin’, baby. you’re amazing—can’t get enough o’ you. don’t ever wanna, so help me god.”

and you KNOW he’s serious if he whips out the name of the big ol’ guy in the sky.

and then when it comes to aftercare, beau takes the fucking cake—i just know it. in an instant, he’s encouraging you to go and use the bathroom to relieve yourself, making sure you’re physically capable of pulling yourself into a semblance of a functioning human when they’re done with you. and he’s offering you any and all assistance you need before recollecting your clothes and fetching a fresh pair—if any are available. he’s getting you an ice cold glass of water, a little shnaky snack and is ready to give you the cuddle of your life.

dean’s pretty content to monitor you coming down from your high, dragging a gentle palm across your hair while his other hand settles in a gentle frame of your jaw, thumb striking gentle lines across the framework of your face. he’s pretty insistent on short cuddles following the aftermath of everything, going so far as to trap you in a spooning session for a good few minutes before he lets you slip away to the bathroom. and even as you stroll off into the distance, he’s trailing after your every move like a lost puppy that doesn’t know how to utilise his free time. he’s so utterly infatuated with you that he’s got to watch everything you’re doing, and it doesn’t matter what. he’s admittedly not the most forward-thinker when it comes to aftercare, but he’s happy to tend to whatever you need AFTER you bring it up. and he’ll learn it like a routine after a while.

soldier boy does not believe in aftercare. oh my god that man is going to cradle a cigarette with more care than he’s ever shown you once he’s delivered you your high. as soon as he’s blown his load, he’ll let you slump down to the bed if only to admire the absolute glistening puddle he’s reduced you to. and he’s going to wear that smug ass cocky grin—even go so far as to chuckle demeaningly as he drinks the view of you in. he could probably get drunk on that visual alone. and then he’s throwing himself down onto the bed beside you, immediately reaching for that bedside cig. he’ll light it, take a long pull, and offer you a taste. at most, he’ll drape a lazy arm around you, but outside of giving his dick a joyride, you essentially stop existing. he’s good at making you feel used, and he’ll watch you clean yourself up without a second thought of lending a helping hand. he might just say some shit about it that he knows will piss you off because he loves getting a rise out of you.

“what’s with all the pussy-pamperin’? thought you’d marvel at havin’ my baby pumped into you.”

oh he’s such an ass. we love him for it though.

OKAY IM DONE NOW. for now

cheers to @bohemianblasphemy for letting me yap about this dynamic AGESSS ago and now i think it’s time to share a taste of it with the world 😭 YOU’RE EITHER ALL FUCKING WELCOME OR IM SORRY!!! i am SO tempted to turn this into a proper fic SOMEWHERE DOWN THE LINE❗️❗️❗️

i sincerely apologise for the shitty mismatched icons that are lowkey pissing me off but i had zero energy to sift through my pics for ones i haven’t already used and somehow make them match so DEAL WITH IT PLS & THANKS 💪

[0nlyn3l]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

Y/n opened her eyes softly, overcome with a sense of…

Perfection.

She could see every spec of dust in the air, she could smell the comforting aroma of eucalyptus from downstairs.

And funny enough she could hear the scribbling of a pen in a far away room.

How?

She ran her hand down her body shocked to find that she had not a single wound in sight.

Letting out a hushed gasp, she stood up from the unfamiliar bed, making her way to the mirror in the corner of the room.

She waited a moment taking in her figure.

She was slimmer than before, but not sickly. She also noticed her figure was more voluptuous and her curves were more emphasised. Any blemish or scare she had on her skin was gone and her curls were silkier and longer than before.

But the one thing that caught her attention were the red eyes that now took over her.

What.

The.

Hell.

“It’s always weird at first, but you’ll get used to it in a couple decades”

The deep voice pulled her out of her daze and she turned around and saw Carlisle leaning against the door frame.

She tried to get words out but it was as if her brain didn’t allow her to.

“Don’t fret y/n, I will explain it all. I do advise you sit down first” he told her as he inches closer to her and led her back to the bed.

“Carlisle, what is going on, what am I” she asked him, a tear flowing down her cheek.

He quickly wiped it away with his thumb.

“My darling, I am a vampire, and last night when I saw you in the forest alone and at death’s doorstep, I- I turned you”

He stuttered on the last bit, not daring to blink so he could catch her reaction.

“Don’t play games with me Carlisle. Are you sure I am not dead”

He let out a little chuckle from this, making his way to the cupboard and grabbing a painting frame.

“This is me, 100 years ago in Italy, I was born here in London in 1640 and at 23, I was turned by a coven when I was hunting with my father”

Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish.

She could not fathom any words and was sat there, gawking at him, cluelessly.

“You need not reply, I have sent my servants to ready a carriage to escort you home. Get dressed”

“But-”

And unfortunately, before she could get a word out, he had left the room; her eyes locking on her dress from the previous night laying on the vanity chair, freshly washed and repaired.

“Crap”

~

15 minutes had felt like 10 hours as y/n and Carlisle were sat opposite eachother in the carriage; the rain complimenting the menacing clouds lingering in the sky.

Y/n recognised where she was.

Not long until she reached her gate.

“Listen y/n, I’m due back in Italy tonight and I’m afraid I will not be returning” Carlisle blurred out as the woman in front of him averted her gaze to him.

He could leave, how dare he.

She didn’t know how to control her vampire body or do anything without him.

She needed him.

“What, Carlisle, you can’t leave me” she pleaded; laying her hands on his as he pulled back.

It pained him to see her like this.

He tried his hardest not to shed a teach but he could involve himself with her.

He could commit.

“I do apologise dearly for leading you on but I cannot stay with you. Ever”

She was dumbfounded, how did he manage to switch up so quickly.

At first he was calling her love and darling and now he was leaving her.

“Mr Cullen, we’ve completed our journey” the driver informed; unaware of the tension evident in the carriage.

“Thank you Johnathan, allow miss y/l/n to be escorted to the door, I will walk and you may pick me up on the way back”

Carlisle quickly got up, shutting the door and making his way down the muddy road.

As instructed, the driver drove the carriage all the way down to the door, tilting his head to her brother as he then drove off.

“Brother” y/n’s voice cracked as she ran towards him and he climbed onto her, hugging her as she broke down.

Charles was confused.

He did not know if his sister’s whereabouts, only being informed by his mother to not inform his father that she had left.

He picked her up, taking her to her bedroom and holding her as she sobbed.

~

It was the next day and Charles had asked his unusually quiet sister to braid his wild curls as he had no more patience left in him to care for them.

They were sat in silence. Not one of them daring to say a word and enjoying each others company.

Y/n tried her hardest to forget the rushed rejection from the doctor and distracted herself with each braid that she did on her brothers hair.

“Sister, i have noticed a change, tell me your troubles. If he hurt you, you know I’ll kill him”

Charlie told his baby sister after wincing and the pull from his scalp.

“I am fine Charlie, nothing is wrong” she replied and she pulled his head slightly backward so they could talk.

“You know I love you right” Charlie said; a small smile adorning his face.

“I love you too Charlie”

[silkendandelion]

The Real Thing (original version)

A Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout drabble, related to My Own, Distant Home

We reached 100 hits on My Own, Distant Home while I wasn't looking, that's so exciting! Thank you all for your support, and have this as a gift. I'm working on another long fic for Ironbark, a proper sequel to this one, so this should line up as a teaser. Something soft and sweet, with just enough dread

UPDATE: This is the original version. A new, longer version is posted to the masterlist and ao3, which is considered the canon version in this AU.

Jack Nelson x Connor Hawkins Words: 1.3k Genre: Fluff (too sweet maybe), horror elements

~*~

Tall, bright green trees lined the winding blacktop road, obscuring the path around the upcoming curves, but not able to block out the sun on such a clear, summer day. The RV navigated the road with ease at the hands of it’s owner and operator, most recently passing a green interstate sign, “You are now leaving Idaho”, and the doubly large sign after it where a cowboy on his horse declared “Welcome to Wyoming: Forever West.”

“I think you were more excited to get your CD collection back than your truck,” said Jack, as Connor flipped happily through his shoe-box of albums, the edges worn down to the cardboard where it had been slid out and back under the bench seat over and over for years.

“The joy is split, for sure. I let the kids keep all the Journey and Alice Cooper. They were vocal about wanting those.”

Jack took his eyes off the road long enough to smile at him, admire the childish joy on his face as he hunched over the box, thumbing over the track lists like he was a teenager again, in a music store for the first time. Behind their RV, they towed along said truck, a 2000 Toyota Tacoma in what Connor affectionately called “Stacy’s favorite green”, bought brand new for cash the year he left the army. The truck he only drove for a few months before he became a fire lookout at Ironbark, and since then had been driven almost exclusively by Stacy: Connor’s older sister, another deceptively charming blonde with two children under 10 and no one to rely on besides her brother.

“That was an incredible thing you did, Connor,” Jack said seriously. “To buy Stacy a car in exchange for getting the truck back. When it was yours to begin with, and she wasn’t going to fight you on wanting to keep it with us.”

“Nah.” He shooed away Jack’s admiration, flipping over the CD in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna leave her with nothing. And it wasn’t like I got her a Mercedes, just a little something for her to get back and forth to work and the kids to school. I should be thanking you, actually, you’re the one who looked over the engine and told the guy to change the oxygen sensors before we would pay for it.”

Jack offered a shrug, managing a shy smile when Connor reached over to nudge his cheek, unable to kiss him with his seat-belt on.

“What kind of albums do you have, Jack? I think we’ve listened to nothing but the radio since we left Washington.”

“I like the radio. It’s got NPR, weather, rock, every—THING! Connor, no.” He yelled (squeaked) in alarm when Connor began rummaging through the glove compartment, looking for evidence to the contrary. Curse the RV for being so wide, he risked swerving if he reached far enough to slam the lid closed. Meanwhile, smiling and completely unbothered, Connor continued to snoop.

“What do we have here? Oh, Jack. Jackie, baby, what are these?” He grinned in triumph to hold up a handful of CDs: his partner’s most private feelings in rhythm and prose. “Is this what you listened to before you picked me up? Toto, Tracy Chapman, Annie Lennox, BOBBY Caldwell—Jackie? Blue-eyed soul?”

Jack’s face was red enough to pass for a farmer’s market tomato, hands tight on the steering wheel. If Connor squinted, he might see steam rising from his collar beneath the tight line of his lips. “Don’t make fun of me, Connor, please.”

“I would never, Jack,” he replied earnestly, all whiskey and warmth as he popped open one of the cases and began to decipher the RV’s stereo system. Static seemed to be the most common channel in their current neck of the woods, among a brief news transmission: ‘—ark state park in Washington, where the body count is up to 9—’, lost to both their ears with Connor’s searching for the right button.

With a slip of the disc in the slot, a sensual piano filled the cabin, only worsening Jack’s embarrassment when a sultry saxophone joined the singer, the iconic croon of a soulful ballad. He burned, resisting the urge to enjoy himself, and chanced a quick look at Connor.

To the tune of his fluttering heart, he only found him smiling, no longer looking through his box or reading the billboards. Smiling at him, all warm brown eyes as he began to sing along, as if to say that between them, everything was sacred because nothing could be wrong.

“I want the real thing, or nothing at all. I need someone that I can be sure will catch me if I should fall. Someone who’ll be there when I call, then I’ll know that it’s the real thing.”

“How… do you know all the words?” Jack mumbled, and Connor cut off his amateur singing.

“Why do you think?” He reached across the console to touch his hand where it loosened it’s grip on the wheel. “You never have to be embarrassed, Jack, not with me.”

Easy for him to say, when he’s the one playing with both the tempo of the poor man’s heart and the temperature in the room. They came to a stop under a light, and Jack busied his hands tapping his thumb on the wheel until he heard Connor’s seat-belt click, saw him rise to walk towards the back of the RV.

“Where are you going?” As long as he was out of sight, he would miss him.

“Use your imagination, Jack, I can’t exactly wander far. Although, I suggest you find a place to park soon, or you might miss the good part.”

“The wh—” He kept his foot on the brake, turning away from the red light to look for him, only to bite down on his words as Connor slowly slipped his belt free, let it fall to the rug with a quiet thump. Next came his shirt, pulled off by the hand on the back of his collar. Among the slow reveal of his toned back, the moles on his spine, the song urged Jack onward, a different one, something about “Come to me” and “Let me love you, honey”.

“The light’s green, Jack.” Connor smirked at him, tossing his shirt in the vague direction of the driver’s seat.

He snapped his eyes back to the road, pressing the gas a little too hard and hearing Connor’s laugh drift up from where he grabbed the kitchen counter to steady himself. If Jack didn’t find a place to park in the next 3 miles, he vowed, he would pull them onto the damn shoulder and hope this road was as rarely traveled as the map had suggested.

From the bedroom, a quiet moan piqued his hot ears, among the sound of what might have been his name if the CD player wasn’t still going in the speaker beside his feet.

Shit. All right, 1 mile.

By the grace of somebody, otherworldly or other, the parking lot to a campsite appeared on his right, empty too, all thanks to the heat advisory that was meant to last for the rest of the week. Jack was probably the only person in the county grateful for it, if only because it meant leaving the key in the ignition to keep the AC running left the music on too.

They deserved their break.

Neither of them knew the winter was going to be a hard one. That before the end of the year, they would be in danger again. Better to grab some comfort while they can, hold each other close, before the leviathan resident of those Ironbark woods extends itself from the trees and begins to seek out the only survivors who know it’s name.

They couldn’t know it was already awake.

[ericjhynden]

Top Fishing Spots in Florida

The Sunshine State has long been revered as a paradise for anglers, offering an incredible diversity of fishing opportunities. Whether you're casting lines in shallow flats or venturing into deep offshore waters, Florida's fishing destinations cater to every skill level and preference.

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Across all these destinations, seasonal variations influence fishing success, but Florida's subtropical climate ensures year-round fishing opportunities. Whether you're a seasoned angler seeking your next trophy catch or a novice looking to experience the thrill of saltwater fishing, Florida's diverse fishing grounds offer something for everyone. Remember to secure appropriate licenses and familiarize yourself with local regulations before embarking on your fishing adventure in the Sunshine State.

[sohannabarberaesque]

“Underwater America with Peter Potamus” (episode 18: Off the Florida Panhandle in and around Pensacola)

[As this particular episode opens, we can easily imagine plenty of aerial action in and close to Pensacola, Florida and the Miracle Strip region, including the areas around Destin, Ft. Walton Beach and Okaloosa Island, as are the foci therefor]

PETER POTAMUS, narrating with Pensacola Beach in the background: And you thought the Florida Panhandle was hardly worth diving ... at any rate, yours truly and crew have plenty of interesting diving ahead, including (if you can believe it) some interesting spearfishing opportunities made even more so by a rather steep near-shore dropoff in the Gulf of Mexico, whence our diving adventures will be experienced this week.

[Highlights of candid footage taken from the drive out of Grand Lake O’ the Cherokees, site of last week’s dive, towards the Florida Panhandle, fill this space while Peter narrates--]

Somehow, word had gotten out to us after Grand Lake up Oklahoma way that some “especially close acquaintenances” wanted to meet us at some club down Pensacola way ... yep, good old Pensacola, the Cradle of Naval Aviation ... and it almost seemed so cryptic until we reached the night life district of Pensacola Beach [entering this particular bar/restaurant, finding seats and all that], and--wouldn’t you believe it ...no less than the Cattanooga Cats were performing!!

[Here, we can see the feline quartet of Country, Kitty Jo, Groove and Scoots, assisted by Kitty Jo’s pet hound, Teeny Tim, performing on what passed for the stage of this bar--er, more like winding up their set when ...]

KITTY JO, with much enthusiasm: And I understand that we have Peter Potamus and a few of his close friends in the house this evening ... so could we have them come on the stage, please, and give them a great big wonderful Cattanooga Cats welcome?!!

[Which they do, and then some, going into quite the hugging session.]

PETER POTAMUS, picking up the narration: Well, now we knew who was looking for us all along heading over here! And were they surprised to learn where we happened to be doing some underwater filming in these parts ... [switching to backstage “after ths show,” featuring a “make-your-own” grits bar] ... and over plenty of that Southern staple known as hominy grits, you wouldn’t believe the conversation that was flowing! Especially coming from Scoots, the band’s musical jack-of-all-trades, as it were!

SCOOTS, over another spoonful of grits: I have to admit that I’m something of a pretty decent diving cat myself ... even if I learned the art at a “swimmin’ hole” back in the holler where I was growing up, in the midst of a rather warm summer which saw my mother go into nervous breakdown such that Pop asked me out of the house during the day just for her sake ... and I would have to credit one Amy Catline, a regular at the swimmin’ hole, for teaching me some worthwhile things, life in particular, that oh so muggy summer!

[You could just hear the “awwwwwws” throughout.]

COUNTRY, adding his two cents: I do have to acknowledge where we can’t resist the swimmin’ hole experience every now and then between performances ... especially when it’s just an excuse to let things cool off and rest a couple hours while on the road!

GROOVE, ever the poet as much as the band’s drummer: Sometimes, I can’t help but seek,/What lies in the waters underneath! [Chuckles from our crew]

PETER POTAMUS, narrating: And such conversation as that certainly kept as much the Cats as ourselves going until close to sunrise, as if having myself no less than three bowls of the Cattanooga Cats’ own grits with shredded cheese and seasoned salt wasn’t a wonderful occasion enough ... [scene shifting to a dive shop in Pensacola Beach for some ideas] ... by mid-morning of the following day, a local dive shop pointed us in the direction of the scuttled remains of the battleship USS Massachusetts, commissioned in 1899, seeing active duty well until World War I, retired soon after ... and torpedoed in 1921 with an experimental rail-mounted gun while at anchor just offshore of Pensacola, eventually sinking in some 20 feet of water!

[The action shifts underwater close to the USS Massachusetts wreck site, this time with the entire crew diving in, captured as per usual by Squiddly Diddly in his underwater cameraman role ... and not long after, we find many of our crew diving in and around the Massachusetts’ scuttled remnants. We’ll let Peter continue the narration as we find many of the crew close to the hull....]

What’s particularly amazing is that this was one of the first steel-hull vessels in naval service, as opposed to the iron such which dominated from the Civil War on. For its time, something of an achievement, even if it were but one of three Oregon-class battleships from around the Spanish-American War.

BREEZLY BRUIN, narrating over the dive scene: It must have seemed interesting to get in through where the vessel was torpedoed  when she was scuttled ... yet entering, you seem to feel a little weird to find this battleship was actually decommissioned beforehand....

MAGILLA GORILLA, also narrating over where he dives through the interior with flashlight in hand:  Can you imagine this was actually a working naval battleship in its time, only now to become an interesting dive destination? Yet still, you can’t help but picture the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you get into a sunken vessel such as this ...

[The scene shifts to the outside of a divers’ camp close to Destin, where a modest little campfire can be discerned going against the twilight]

PETER POTAMUS: What further amazed us as a diving party was when no less than Squiddly Diddly brought our attention over supper to another offshore wreck in the area, this time more mysterious: As in that of the San Pablo, a fruit steamer which ran between Central America and the United States for the United Fruit Company’s “Great White Fleet” in the 1930′s until being sunk under mysterious circumstances around 1943. And there were rumours that the vessel was actually Soviet-flagged, but remember that it wasn’t called the “Great White Fleet” for nothing!

WALLY GATOR, lovingly trying for the answer: Was it because white looked rather cooll, don’t you know?

MILDEW WOLF, with added snark: Mary had a tramp steamer, its hull was white as snow--

HOKEY WOLF, perhaps close to the truth: The better to keep the produce cool in the Caribbean heat, I assume?

LIPPY THE LION: Reflecting the tropical sun’s heat, I understand.

PETER POTAMUS: I admit all were pretty close, but Lippy got it correct: United Fruit’s fleet of steamers hauling tropical fruits and vegetables were painted white to better reflect the sunlight of the Caribbean and the Central American regions where these vessels saw service, and keep the produce at ideal temperatures until being offloaded at port--New Orleans more often than not.

[Scene fades into the waters where the wreck of the San Pablo is discerned, as evident by its white hull; as per usual, Peter Potamus leads the intrepid divers over, across, and into parts of the wreck. In one scene, we can see Lippy the Lion “kicking it up” close to the railing near the hull, and in another, we can discern Breezly Bruin and Loopy DeLoop diving through the crows’ nest of the ship, close to the radio room. Loopy’s flashlight can be seen cutting through the murk to find the radio apparatus still intact, even allowing for some 25 years’ accumulation of sea grasses and coral.]

PETER POTAMUS, on a pontoon near the docks on Okaloosa Island: But those wrecks were just the beginning, a taster, if you will, for what lay ahead: Destin, which is but a few miles out on the mainland, takes pride in calling themselves “the World’s Luckiest Fishing Village.” And you can credit its closeness to the 100-Fathom Curve offshore, which, along with its being an interesting dive spot, also welcomes plenty of fish native to the Gulf of Mexico: Not just tuna, amberjack, yellowtail and marlin, but also the likes of vermilion, black, white and red snapper, spanish and king mackrel, grouper, wahoos (whatever they are) and triggerfish. Which can be pretty easy to catch, even with a harpoon gun!

[The scene fades to a near-shore scenario, pointing out safety procedures for harpoon guns, proper use being explained--and reminding all that such need to be pointed away from the body, and when so fishing, must remain underwater. A “pop quiz” on harpoon gun safety can also be discerned, as well as the inevitable pre-dive safety briefing.]

... and so our party sets out on some serious spearfishing adventures in such well-stocked waters as these such as attract the sportfishing crowd galore....

[The inevitable mass dive-in, taking care to ensure that the harpoon guns are sheathed, close to the body and at once ready ... followed by Peter Potamus “himself,” guided by Squiddly Diddly, guding all to some pretty interesting spearfishing waters. We can also discern some spearing action from some randomly-selected diver as he positions his harpoon gun into firing position, being steady about it all the while ... and fires the harpoon gun into some red snapper, taking pains to avoid excess blood loss which could attract sharks. Maybe another member of the troupe could also be seen in harpoon-gun action as well....

[Fade to ...] 

PETER POTAMUS, over the grill at a “gulf-to-table” restaurant, with several others joining in: Particularly interesting is that several restaurants out this way allow fishermen, even those fond of spearing, to actually have their catch prepared and served. Myself, I was able to have some grilled grouper and flounder, though I admit the taste takes a little getting used to. Snapper, especially red snapper, can also get to be popular in these parts ... and can you imagine the Three Wolves spearing bluefin tuna, and actually having grilled tuna steaks as well?

At any rate ... we certainly hope your diving experiences are as interesting and as memorable as ours are. And in our next episode, which is somewhere among the springs of Florida ... we’ve got a surprise you won’t want to miss for the likes of yourselves ...

@joey-gatorman​ @warnerarchive​

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello! I just wanted to say I love your writing especially your clone headcanons and such! I was wondering if you'd be open to writing what the clones and bad batch would think if they had a chubby/thick S/O ? Idk if you're accepting asks rn but if not I completely understand! I've just read all your other ones and was wondering what you'd come up with for them in such a scenario :3

I'm combining these 2 requests because they're pretty similar, hope that's okay! And thank you both for being such lovely supporters of my clone writing, it really means the world to me 💗

Fox, Fives, and Hunter are high-key attracted to their partner's size. They're so soft and luscious and give such wonderful hugs ugh, these boys' hearts just may give out if they think about it too much. They love every curve on their S/O and can't fathom how the larger culture could ever criticize this body type as less-than-ideal. They'll be loud and devoted defenders of their S/O's beauty.

Rex, Wolffe, and Echo are low-key attracted to their partner's size. They may not have known this about themselves before they got together with their S/O, but now it's obvious what gets them going. Whether it's specific body parts like thighs, chest, rear... or if it's the whole package... they like them some thicc-ness. They won't vocalize it much, but when they do, it's clear their praises are genuine.

Realistically, Jesse and Dogma would've had a bit of a learning curve if they fell for someone of a larger stature. I don't think they were completely shallow before, but it wasn't ever something they thought about. Since being with a larger S/O, though, they've realized that looks are subjective and they were wrong to not consider that before. They love their S/O and wouldn't dream of pushing them away just because they don't fit some arbitrary beauty standard.

Hardcase, Crosshair, and Tech are into all shapes and sizes, so appearance wouldn't really factor into whether they get together with someone or not. Once they like a person, they'll see every part of them as beautiful, and won't be attracted to anything else. It will bother them if their S/O is not confident with their body type, they will immediately counter any little negative comment with a dozen reassurances to the contrary.

Kix, Tup, and Cody will only really be concerned about their partner's health. They know that things like weight and curves aren't always an indication of someone's inner health, so once they know there is nothing to worry about on that front, then they will wholeheartedly accept their S/O just the way they are. If their S/O did want to change some things, though, they would help without judgement.

Wrecker is a big guy himself, so not only is he 100% accepting of a plus-sized partner, but he's also incredibly empathetic. While some of the other clones might take size for granted and not realize how life can be different in some ways if you're larger, Wrecker does not. He gets it. But he's never let unfair stereotypes stop him from enjoying life, so he'll ensure his S/O isn't held down, either. They will be one heck of a power couple.

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 3

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 5K Warnings: Mentions of abuse. A/N: I can’t get over how amazing the reaction has been to this fic. You guys are the absolute best! CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 |

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With Syverson gone, Sasha took a moment to get situated. She found the laundry room and as promised, there was a whole basket of clean clothes to choose from. Grabbing the basket, she made her way to the stairs, going up slowly. If Sy didn’t want payment in the traditional sense, she’d repay him in other ways. She felt a little like Goldilocks as she opened each door upstairs, trying to find the room most likely to be his. It was easy enough to find once she opened the last door and found a black Stetson hanging on a coat rack, the faint sweat lines around the brim making it clear the hat wasn’t just for show. 

Sy’s room was as orderly as the rest of the house. Pale green walls created the backdrop for antique furnishings that had purposely been refinished to look a touch on the shabbier side. A gun safe nearly as tall as her made her feel both safe and a little uneasy. Ignoring the big metal vault, she proceeded on with her plan.  After changing into a pair of basketball shorts and a black Longhorns shirt, she carefully wrapped up her dusty old outfit and placed it by the door. Sasha then took a seat on Sy’s bed and proceeded to fold all the clean laundry, finding the blissful silence of the house a balm for the stress she’d undergone earlier in the day. 

With everything folded, she ventured to his closet, smiling to herself when she found a veritable wall of plaid, mostly in reds and blues. Putting things away, she took no note of the patent leather shoes that sat in a clear shoe box near the back, nor the green duffel bag that sat next to it. 

Content that she’d done something to help, she went back downstairs, closing each door along the way. Once her clothes were in the trash, Sasha looked around, wondering if taking a dip would truly be worth it. Deciding the sun could wait a day or two until she’d healed more, she padded to the living room and took a seat on the couch, letting out a sigh she didn’t know she’d been holding. 

With the TV switched to some random reality show about finding true love, it didn’t take long before she was out cold, sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

Syverson spent the morning mucking and turning out the horses, saving the ones that had been sold for last and paying extra attention to their health and grooming, knowing full well that contracts could still be broken at the last minute if he didn’t live up to his side of the agreement.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was starving, sweaty, and a little smelly. Not getting a single call from Sasha had him slightly worried and he went faster than he probably should have on Wolf's back; the horse didn't mind, especially when Syverson parked him under a big old Willow to graze on the Bermuda grass there.

Moving into the house, he kicked off his boots and went silently inside, hoping things were alright. Syverson found her quickly enough, asleep in the living room and the sight made him smile, only because even pregnant, she was still drowning in his clothes. Sasha’s hair was still as dry as it had been when he left, so he guessed she hadn't been swimming and Syverson nodded to himself as he assumed that her need to rest had outweighed any potential desire to have a little fun.

Turning on his heel, he made his way to the kitchen to fix them up some lunch. Pulling chicken breasts, bacon, tomatoes, greens, cheese, and some sourdough from the fridge, he set things out in the same precise fashion as he had during breakfast. With a tune running through his head, he began assembling.

In no time, he'd made a salad and sandwich worthy of a food magazine, Syverson singing softly as he worked. Figuring that with rest and less anxiety would come hunger, he added kettle chips to both plates, hoping Sasha woke with the same appetite he currently had. 

Though she had slept better than she could ever remember sleeping, Sy’s work in the kitchen still managed to wake Sasha, her eyes gazing around in confusion for a moment before the events of the morning came back to her. Yawning, she stood and made her way over to the kitchen, smiling as she watched Sy sing while putting the finishing touches on their lunch. 

“I took your advice, and for once, I’m glad these things come with a drawstring, otherwise this would get awkward quick,” Sasha joked, hopping up on the bar chair and smiling fondly when one of the puppies came and laid at her feet. “Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes,” she added more sincerely, still feeling a twinge of guilt over everything he’d done for her. 

Looking over his shoulder at her, Syverson couldn’t help but find her adorable in his clothes. It was an opinion he knew to keep to himself, as previous experience had taught him women generally didn’t love being called adorable, especially by men they still didn’t know well. Plates in hand, he turned and gave her a big smile, setting hers down in front of her. 

“How’re you feelin’, mama?” He asked, Sy’s smile fading as he took in the look on Sasha’s face. 

At the sight of the plate, Sasha nearly burst into tears, unable to fathom why he was being so kind. While she blamed part of her emotional state on hormones, a larger part came simply from the fact that it had been ages since she’d been shown true kindness.

“I don’t...Why are you doin’ all this for me? I don’t deserve it. All I do is make trouble.” Sasha sniffled, echoing words that had been said to her far too many times to count. Her posture curving in on itself, some of the trauma she’d experienced came to the surface, and it was all Sy could do to keep his own eyes from welling up in sympathy. 

"Because someone once helped me, and I intend to pay it forward. Because where I come from, no woman should ever be forced to run from their own home, especially while pregnant. And because if something happens to you that I could have easily prevented, I'll never forgive myself."

The words held memories and a painful past; if Sasha looked in the right places, she'd see the physical marks Sy’s own history had left on him. I have plenty to atone for, he thought to himself, knowing it was too soon to be saying such things out loud to a woman who’d been through hell and back. No, that would take time; time Syverson wasn’t sure he had with her. 

Coming around the bar, arms open, he didn’t hesitate to offer her a hug, Sy surprised when she accepted. Rubbing her back gently, he let Sasha cry softly into his chest, his face marred with a frown, pained for the woman who, so far, had been nothing but good company and a breath of fresh air to his otherwise-solitary home. When Sasha pulled back, Sy couldn’t stop himself from wiping her tears with his knuckles, his eyes locking with hers.

"All I'm offering is a bed, some clean sheets; clothes, food, water, and an alarm system. The basic necessities of life. All I ask for in return is that you wait until you're 100% again before you decide what you’re gonna do next," Syverson reiterated, his expression tender and genuinely sweet. It only served to make Sasha’s heart do a little skip, the feeling his blue eyes gave her, one that was foreign to her after so many years. 

Blowing her nose into a napkin, Sasha took a deep breath before speaking. “Fine. I’ll stay. But I’m not gonna sit here idle. Anything you need done around the house, I’ll get done.” 

Sy opened his mouth to remind her how pregnant she was, but closed it, merely giving her a playful, narrow-eyed look. 

“Within reason, mama. Within reason.” Chuckling wetly, Sasha nodded her agreement. 

They ate in amicable silence, Sasha savoring the food and letting the emotion she’d exuded moments before, wash away with every sip of iced tea. For his part, Sy busied himself with his meal, sharing a small part of it with Aika and the pups, doing so just as discreetly as Sasha had that morning. 

The motion of Sasha crossing her legs caught Sy’s eye and his gaze dropped to her legs where the softer light of the kitchen illuminated just how badly bruised she was. Syverson knew that walking and falling on his gate wouldn’t ever be enough to cause that type of damage, and upon closer inspection, he noted cigarette burns, both fresh and old. Face blanching, Sy closed his eyes before quickly turning his gaze, flashes of memories, of screams and blood making themselves all too known in his mind's eye. Though the situations were worlds apart, he couldn’t help but compare them. His smile wavered when he looked at her, the sadness unbearable in Syverson’s eyes.

“What’d he do? Throw you out of a movin’ truck after he finished puttin’ out his smokes?” His voice quiet and pained, it was clear to Sasha that Sy had seen what she usually worked so hard to try and hide. Though her first instinct was to lie, one look at Sy’s blue eyes and she knew that doing so would only cause more harm than good. Looking down at her near-empty plate, she shook her head. 

“I bruise easy and it takes me a while to heal ‘cause I’m anemic. Pile bruise on top of bruise and well…” Her words trailed off, Sasha unwilling to look up, not wanting to see Sy’s reaction to the truth. 

Sighing softly, Syverson pushed his plate away and moved to lean next to where she sat at the bar. His eyes locked with hers, the sadness still prominent in his blue orbs. One big hand came up to cup her cheek with the utmost gentility, Syverson's lips down-turned and tight when Sasha immediately flinched at the contact. When he spoke, it was a whisper, every word imbued with sincerity.

"I'm sorry that he hurt you for so long. I don't know who he is, or what he thought his justification was, but I know one thing. There's not a single reason in the world to abuse a woman; to abuse anyone for that matter. What he did was wrong. So long as you're here, I can guarantee you that no one will ever so much as raise a hand towards you."

In a move he had absolutely no control over, Syverson leaned in and kissed Sasha’s forehead quickly before moving to head back to the mudroom, forgetting all about clearing his plate or the rest of the dishes. He needed fresh air before the memories threatened to choke him again and he figured she'd need her own space after their exchange.

It was lucky that Wolf knew the way back to the stables so well, as Syverson was too focused on trying to swallow down the lump in his throat to pay much attention to where he was going.

Sasha sat, stunned at what had just happened. In the blink of an eye, Sy had gone from smiling and happy, to simmering anger and finally to an anguish she’d never seen in any man. It left her head spinning and her body unable to move for several long minutes. The sound of the door closing and of Wolf galloping away barely registered, and it wasn’t until Aika nuzzled her that Sash came out of her daze. 

Scratching just behind the dog’s ear, Sasha let out a shaky sigh and stood to clean what little of the kitchen needed to be spruced up after Sy’s hasty exit. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent with his head in a tizzy and his leg beginning to smart. Sy knew he’d be lucky to make it through dinner at the rate things were going, but he couldn’t keep from pushing himself hard, willing to take a little leg pain over the alternative. A truly bad night could wreck him for days, and Syverson figured the harder he worked, the heavier he’d sleep and the heavier he slept, the less he’d dream. Now, of all times, he couldn’t afford a bad night; he had someone else to look after, not just his own memories. 

So he worked harder than his usual high-standard, not worrying himself with how stiff his left leg was getting, or how much the ache was beginning to radiate. By the time the sun was beginning to crawl beneath the horizon, Sy was visibly limping, but he continued to work until the job was done, a frown permanently etched in his expression as his mind ran circles around Sasha’s confession, his own imaginings of what the scumbag she used to be with looked like, and intrusive thoughts he tried hard to push out of his mind. 

For her part, Sasha cleaned up and then headed back to the couch, curling up with all the dogs as she put on a Doris Day movie, willing the cheery nature of the flick to lift her spirits and take her mind off her ex. After a while, she began to lose interest and thoughts of Sy began to pique her curiosity. Thinking back on their exchange, Sasha wondered if the sadness she’d seen in his eyes was strictly for her, or if there was something more to it. 

The clues as to who Kyle Syverson was were all over the house; some in plain sight, others a little more tucked away. The photos strewn around the house in old heirloom frames were the most obvious and Sasha got up to look at them, intensely interested in what she could glean from them. 

The first was of a man who looked nearly nothing like the man who owned the house. He had a crisp, short haircut, intense blue eyes and an army uniform that fit him to a T. The date, written in pencil, marked what could only be the start of a military career and Sasha wondered how the man who looked so ready to spring into action had turned into the gentle giant she’d come to know over the course of the day.

An older man took up the next shot, his short, nearly-onyx curls immediately familiar to Sasha’s gaze. He had a beautiful open smile, the same as his son's, and she found herself smiling back at the photograph without ever meaning to; Sy had the same power and upon realizing it, Sasha’s smile only widened.  

The next was more candid than the first few and it was obvious from one glance, that Sy was having fun with some friends at a military event.

While the photos showed the lighter side of the man who was warm but serious, the real clues lay in a photo album on the coffee table. There were three of them in total, and while the first two were mostly childhood photos of the typically-embarrassing variety, the last one was very different.

The outside of a building that read South Texas Veterans Health Care was the first shot. All the shots after were horrifying. Pictures of a mangled man being held together by bandages, metal, and machines. A face so swollen it was unrecognizable. A grisly laceration in a leg left without sutures due to swelling. Bags of blood, IV fluid and Morphine dripping into a discolored arm.

After two pages, the pictures became a show of progress and setback. Swelling reduced, infection increased, cuts healed, and rods rejected through the skin. By page six, the ballooned visage had healed to the point where a face was visible. Behind black eyes and split lip was Syverson, rail thin, too pale, and quite visibly in pain.

Flipping one more page would bring Sasha to a stronger-looking man whose hair was beginning to grow out. A man sitting up and wearing normal clothes despite the hospital setting. A man whose eye was still disgustingly bruised. Syverson's record of healing was as violent and graphic as any shock horror film. The only thing the photos didn't tell was the 'why' of the whole story. 

Tears fell onto the laminated pages by the time Sasha was finished, her own memories flooding back. Her time in the hospital had a very clear ‘why’ associated with it, and though she’d lied through nearly four months of treatment, no one at her local hospital had bought the story for a moment. With Syverson’s own history, she was left with more questions than answers, but a clear indication that in some way, he understood her own pain. 

Setting the album back just as the mudroom door creaked open, Sasha made quick work of wiping her eyes and putting a smile on her face, for once doing it not out of fear, but to refrain from having Sy rush to her with worry once more. 

"Evenin', sweetheart. How was the rest of your day?" he asked with genuine interest, Sy’s blue eyes catching the sunset and turning the normal blue tone into something electric and beautiful. Crossing into the living room, he didn't notice the albums had been touched, his gaze focused solely on her, his own smile back at the level it had been most of the day, albeit with a touch of a wince added in. 

“It was good. Me and the pups had a lazy lay-in, watched a movie or two,” she answered, returning his smile with a gentle one of her own as she lifted Goliath up to face level, swinging him gently to and fro, the puppy’s sleepy expression never changing despite the commotion. Sy chuckled softly, nodding, glad to see that she’d rested up more. For a moment, the thoughts disappeared, Syverson entranced yet again by Sasha’s beauty. 

“You look like you feel much better, mama,” he commented, his eyes no longer clouded with emotion as they had been earlier at lunch. 

“I thought I was gonna have to send the dog’s out lookin’ for ya,” Sasha replied, biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard, her heart skipping once more as she took in Syverson’s even more rugged appearance.

"I get lost out there sometimes. Daydream too much, pa says. Especially when I'm groomin' the horses. It's like..." he snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word, "like meditation," Syverson finally remembered, his grin shy and boyish as he pushed his work gloves into the back pocket of his jeans.

Knowing he probably reeked of sawdust, manure, and hay, Syverson took a few steps back, his smile turning embarrassed. He knew the last thing girls appreciated smelling was crap, especially when they were pregnant.

"All right, well, here's your task for the evenin'. Look through the fridge and figure out what you wanna eat. I'm gonna jump in the tub real quick, then I'll get cookin'," he grinned, taking another step back as Sasha stood, seemingly ready for the challenge.

“Sounds like a plan!” Despite her smile, Sasha’s voice gave away that she’d been crying, and upon closer inspection, Sy noticed her red-rimmed eyes and once more found his smile faltering. Though he hated knowing she was in pain of any sort, Sy took her tears as a sign of progress. If she was comfortable enough to release even some of the pain she felt, whether physical or emotional, it meant she was truly breaking free of the past. Holding it in just made it worse; he would know. Even still, he wasn't going to say anything. It would only embarrass her, and that wasn't his intention. Smiling brightly at her, he moved towards the stairs.

His bath was short; just enough time to scrub clean and look presentable. He hadn't taken a long bath since he'd joined the Army. It was just one of many habits he hadn't been able to drop since enlisting and one he knew he’d probably have for the rest of his life.

Syverson's energy was mellow as he headed back down the stairs, his hair still wet. Gray lounge pants hung low around his hips, and a black t-shirt balled was up in his hand. When he reached the kitchen, Syverson threw the shirt in a perfect arc so that it landed on the couch, not wanting to put it on until his hair dried so that it wouldn't wet the fabric. Already humming softly, he moved to the kitchen to see what Sasha had laid out for him.

Sasha couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp when she stepped back from the fridge and saw him step into the kitchen shirtless. Cheeks immediately turning red, she looked away, trying, and failing, to forget the chiseled physique and generous smattering of dark hair that made up his torso. Motioning to the counter next to the stove, Sasha stammered as she spoke. 

“You had all the fixin’s for it, and the meat’s about to expire, so…” 

Tugging the collar of her shirt, she moved to sit at the bar, doing her best not to gawk openly at how handsome he was.

"I like your style, mama," Sy said after giving a low whistle at seeing everything he needed to make burgers laid out on the bar. He'd been craving something similar and to have her damn-near read his mind was a welcome surprise.

Syverson got to work shaping the ground beef, seasoning it and setting the six rounds on a board to head out to the barbecue. Once the meat was on the grill, he came back in and started on making the fries to go with it. Living so far from town had its advantages and one Sy always appreciated was that if he wanted fast food, he actually had to make it himself; it always turned out just as good, and unlike the joints in town, it never left him with a stomach ache after.

“Well-done for me, please!” Sasha called out as he headed back to the grill, her eyes still darting around nervously, unsure of where to look and not used to actually having eye-candy around to stare at.

"I got it!" he called back with a laugh. While he'd never had a kid of his own, Syverson knew enough to keep from giving medium-to-rare ANYTHING to a pregnant woman. 

“So...Did you pick out a room while you were up there? I saw the clothes were folded and put away. Thank you,” Sy asked once he was back inside, setting the potatoes in boiling water to prep them for frying, his smirk making it clear he was teasing her just a little. 

“No. I figure I’ll pick when I go to bed and just face plant the first mattress I see,” Sasha relaxed a bit once they got to talking, her eyes still avoiding Sy just in case he caught her staring.

Sy couldn’t keep his smile from brightening at the thought of Sasha being so sleepy she just fell into bed any which way and didn't move the whole night. It was the kind of sleep Syverson himself never got any more; the kind he hadn't gotten since he was eighteen.

“Well, here’s hoping none of the mattresses have peas under ‘em.” Sy gave her a wink, finally meeting Sasha’s gaze, her expression one he wasn’t familiar with. He couldn’t tell if she was feeling alright or if the kitchen had gotten too hot due to the fryer, but whatever it was, it was making her blush something fierce and it only added to how cute she already looked in his eyes. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” She asked, standing up and moving around the bar, Sasha figuring the quicker she got used to Syverson being shirtless, the better off she’d be. Stepping closer felt like a betrayal of her own willpower however, as the scent of Sy’s cologne reached her nose and made her melt just a little more. 

“If you must,” Sy grinned, sliding a cutting board in front of her, “You can get the fixins’ ready.” 

“I must. Just like you must buy some chocolate next time you’re at the store. You have everything except dessert, mister.” She blamed the baby on her equally teasing retort, Sasha’s blush creeping higher up her cheeks as she began slicing up red onion and cutting pickles lengthwise to get them ready. 

“You might wanna have a second look there, mama. There’s an entire brownie pan on the bottom shelf, just waitin’ for a little reheat. The youngin’s not the only one with a sweet tooth in this house,” he grinned, pointing at her belly, “chocolate and I are old friends.” 

With the meat nearly ready, Syverson popped back outside with a few cheese slices, knowing the fries would be done as he walked back in with the burgers. He'd done this particular meal for family and friends so many times that he had the timing down to a science. Coming back in, he set the cooked meat next to the stove and pulled the fries from the oil. Within a few minutes, their two plates were ready and piled high with the good stuff.

"Couch? We could pop in a movie or just watch whatever bad reality show is on," he suggested as he slid the two plates onto the bar, figuring it'd be more comfortable at the end of a long day.

Before Sy could even start to move the plates, Sasha had snuck a few fries off his plate, smiling impishly as she moved to the fridge to grab drinks. She eyed the beer, but figured he’d have gotten one already if he was the evening drink-type. Unsure of what his preferences were, she craned her neck back and called out again. 

“What d’you wanna drink, Sy?” 

"Water's fine for me, thanks," Syverson smiled as he took their plates into the living room, setting both down on the coffee table before pulling it closer to the couch and clearing the photo albums off to make room for everything.

"Movies are in that cabinet if you wanna pick one, if not, just grab the remote and surf away," he added as he moved back to the bar to grab the napkins, knowing from experience that trying to carry too much at once usually led to disaster.

“You’re the one that was out in the field all day, why don’t you pick?” Sasha laughed as she took up her seat, shooing the dogs away gently before picking a few more fries off her own plate, hungrier than she’d realized.

"Because I have terrible taste in movies," he replied bluntly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he met her gaze. While it was partially true--all the movies in the cabinet had been gifts--Syverson had good taste in a particular genre of film; war movies. Figuring Sasha wouldn’t want to watch people die, Sy turned on the TV, waiting until he saw a picture to change the channel to Discovery, smiling when he realized the program was dedicated to cute wild animals. 

Sasha’s first bite caused her eyes to widen then narrow, her gaze shifting pointedly to Sy. “Is there anything you can’t cook perfectly?” She asked, shaking her head in amazement. 

"I can't make Mac and Cheese to save my life," Sy replied seriously, nodding as he took another bite, his eyes skipping from his plate, to her, to the TV, and back again.

“What? Mac and Cheese is foolproof!” Sasha laughed from deep in her belly, refusing to believe that a man who could cook a full breakfast, lunch and dinner couldn’t handle the simplest of pasta.

“It always burns at the bottom!” Sy lost it, laughing right along with Sasha before the two of them slowly shifted their attention back to the food. 

As before, they ate and watched TV in comfortable silence, occasionally commenting on an animal or its natural predator. Sy was nearly done with his plate when he noticed Sasha lean back against the couch cushions and pull his shirt taut over her belly, her wince making it clear she was in discomfort. He watched her body language for a moment, worried she wasn’t feeling well, but after realizing she was just watching her belly, he re-focused his gaze, trying to see what she was looking at. 

"Lil' one movin'?" he asked softly, not wanting to ruin the moment, but wanting to confirm his suspicions about what she was doing.

“Yeah. Wanna feel?” Sasha nodded, her smile fond and excited. 

Syverson's eyebrows went up slightly at the question, but he cleaned his hands up on a napkin and gently placed one on the center of her belly, his touch light and reverent, muscles slack to let her guide him where the movement was.

"D'you know if it's a girl or a boy yet?" he asked softly, turning to face her on the couch, the TV forgotten as he waited patiently to feel the flutters and kicks. Sasha covered his hand with hers, guiding him over to the spot where she’d last felt movement, her smile growing by the second. 

“No. I want it to be a surprise, honestly. Whatever comes, I just care that it’s happy and healthy and loved,” She replied, Sasha’s eyes lighting up when she felt her child’s foot push from the inside out. “Did you feel that?”

The kick took his breath away and for a moment, Sy sat there in awe, a lopsided grin on his face. Shaking his head, he beamed at Sasha, elated for her. 

“That calls for celebration! What d’you say, lil’ one?” He finally said after a moment, rubbing the spot where he’d felt the kick, Sy still electrified by what he’d felt. Moving quicker than he should have, Sy got up and cleared their plates, returning a few moments later with a piece of brownie big enough for them to share.

As the animals paraded across the screen, the two shared their dessert, Sy smiling and pretending not to notice when Sasha’s head leaned onto his shoulder, both of them still caught up in the wonder of the baby's kick. 

[mimithings97]

A Dicking But With Feelings (M)

Summary: You always said you'd marry the first man that made you cum, because the female orgasm was as much of a myth to you as people saying jizz tastes nice. So, get the ring ready because Joonie is on his way to dicking you into marriage.

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/N

Genre: Domestic AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Squirting, Choking, Namjoon having STAMINA!, Swearing, Dicking with Feelings basically

Word Count: 3k

A/N: The title is pretty self explanatory, because Namjoon just makes me thinks big dick, bigger heart. Enjoy x

Go for the shag, they said. You’ll cum every time, they said. 

Lies. 

There’s no such thing as preparation when it comes to sex. The sheer amount of pornstar moans and smutty fics seen and read were just fuel to the fire of the whole female orgasm thing. But as soon as push came to shove and the virgin became not so innocent, it was clear that society had lied to you.

So, naturally, you told your flatmate you’d marry the first guy that makes you cum without the use of foul play, ie your own fingers. She told you ‘prepare for the lonely life hun because shit’s a myth’. Great.

Yet here you are. That same flatmate sending aimless texts your way as they’re drowned out by the sound of uncontrollable and completely unfiltered moans. She sends the occasional bang herself through thin walls because you and Namjoon are making light work of the headboard.

“Fuck you look so good right now. All mine. So beautiful.” The praise does bits in the way of your pussy fluttering around his dick and the feeling is far from lost on him. “Squeezing me so good bubs.”

It took 2 hours for you to build up the courage to talk to the tall, broad man in the library cafe, then took only 2 weeks for texts to turn to dates and 2 months for butterflies to become full-fledged, shit eating, unhealthily, complete love. 

You love him enough you think you just might marry him whether he’s made you cum or not, but with the way his thickness is splitting into you at knots faster than your moans can keep up with, he might just do the deed for you. 

Tears stain your cheeks as you must enter the hour mark of being 100% drilled. This is the first time too. You’re a ‘sex on the first date’ girl by heart, but you fell deep for him and he wanted to take it slow. Savour the innocence just so the dirt he was unravelling now in you was all the more tantalizing.  And dear god was it working.

The length of his torso drowned you underneath him, so all you could feel was the taught muscles of his abdomen against yours loose with pleasure, smell the heady scent of sweat and also the musk of whatever aftershave he had decided on tonight and you were consumed by every part of him as his grunts and moans of praise, submissive to the way your pussy ate him up, bounced off the walls in your head.

It is pure, unadulterated pleasure, fueled by the all-consuming love you didn’t know you were capable of. And he must feel the wavelengths too as his thrusts slow into something sensual, so he can feel every part of you, and you, him.

“Fuck,” his breathing isn’t light on the side of your face, and he doesn’t feign from letting out even harsher ones when he rounds your face so your lips connect. “I can’t believe how good you feel. Sex has never been this good.”

He’s candid and you love that.

The pace is tantalising as he speaks into your mouth, occasionally letting his tongue slip out and onto yours in a messy game. 

You can only fathom a mumble, but you want to speak out to him in adoration of the fact this is, without doubt, the best sex you have ever encountered. The man has been pile driving you for longer than an hour, occasionally mustering the self-control to slow the pace, occasionally pull out entirely just so he can watch your face contort and the whine leave your lips - no, he wants to savour this.

“I can’t believe your mine.” He comes to a stop completely as if the words he needs to say overtake his need to unravel in you. So you grapple at the loose hairs on the back of his neck and pull him back onto your mouth, long, slow, and loaded with emotion. It helps you find your words.

“Love you. So much, Joon.” 

He had a goodness to his heart like no other you’d met. You’d always been painted as someone with hard lines - an exterior set in stone that no one could penetrate because you were good on your own - but you must have been lying to yourself because you’re better with him.

It’s a slow and methodical nod to your side that has Namjoon pulling out, bodies disconnecting by mere millimetres before he is turned onto his back and you are cradling his frame in your small hands from above. 

He looks hungry but in a polite way - if that’s possible - or maybe Namjoon just makes you soft like that, as his eyes trail your body, mapping every mark, mole, indent, curve, roll like you’re worthy, just like you belong. 

So, your body speaks for itself as you find his hard cock and trace it with scolding fingertips, feather-light touches dancing from base to tip and the way he sucks in air makes you do the same. His tip meets your centre but in the mood of all things slow-paced and passionate you don’t let him into your warmth, just holding him upright so his eyes bore into yours like he wants to plead but can’t find the words. 

All it takes is a squeeze and he pipes up.

“Fuck, bubs, please.” 

You want to hear it again, over and over. It’s fuel to a fire that never seizes to burn, so you go again, squeezing at the base and bringing your other hand up to his neck so your fingers can trace the veins that protrude. 

“Shit yes, give it to me, please, Y/N.” He’s all over the place, voice wavering and dick stuttering when your nails dig in not only to where he’s hard but also around his neck. You can’t help the smirk as you take mental note - choking is a hard yes. 

You sink down somewhere between fast and slow, and the way he hits your cervix from this angle almost has you doubling over into his arms that dig into your hips, but you don’t - no, the way his eyes roll so they’re just white is a far greater surge of pleasure than any other.

“Jesus that’s big,” you don’t mean for the words to spill neither be heard, but you see the corner of Joon’s mouth twitch up as he finds satisfaction in the unfiltered praise. But, fuck, he is so deep from the angle that you feel heady.

You hands strike at his abdomen and push him into the bed when he attempts to seek friction inside of you.

“Wait. Wait,” he opens his eyes to meet yours, concern laced with desperation because you’ve got his dick in a vice and the self-control he’s mustering is on another level. “Just gimme a minute.”

“You good?” 

“Mmm,” you’re head is bowed and his hand sweeps the hair that has fallen around your face so he can assess the damage.

“Bubs, you good?”

But you laugh and lift your head to find an expression of confusion and worry morph into a smile, he can’t help but reciprocate when he sees you laugh for him. 

The exhaustion of the night paired with the way your cervix is slowly giving into the pressure of where his dick sits allows you to lean forward, arms strong and stable welcoming you when your chest meets his. 

He tastes of salt and men, sweat and aftershave as your mouth makes bold moves on the side of his neck. You’re still laughing breathily at the fact you almost passed out from the dick being too good, but his hips begin to stutter because he can’t share your humour when your tonguing around his jaw. It doesn’t help that your seeping at the seems, wet with an hours worth of stimulation and need for more somehow, so his small movements, normally undetectable, hit right up into you and have whatever laugh was coming out to roll out into a moan.

“Jesus it’s good like this,” he mumbles into your hair as his hips begin to guide your into movement, it’s a gentle thrust but it’s bruising inside of you and you shiver when he hits something good.

“Fuck urgh-,” you feel him everywhere inside of your, your stomach, your throat, the way his taste still sits on your tongue. It makes you crave more. 

“So good. So, so good.” And it is, because you’ve got into a pace now that isn’t leaving you heavy with tired limbs but light with the way he handles your body - arms gentle with a caress on you back but dick hard with the intention to hit deep. 

You grapple at his hair when he accidentally thrusts too hard, seeking that part of you that has you whining. 

“Joon, shit, there. Again.” 

“Yeh?”

“Yeah-ah,” the incentive to have you moaning does something to him, so he’s pushing up harder, thick thighs leading his hips up into yours and it’s somehow still unnerving that you can feel him in your stomach. 

Neither of you can contain the bliss you’re in. Sex was never meant to be this good - not in real life anyway - or maybe you’d just had a bad batch of guys in your life. Or maybe he is just one of a kind. The kind who took his time when he first ate you out and asked you how and where you liked it - deep or shallow - hard or fast. The kind who took note that the hairs on the back of your neck were your most sensitive part and running his fingers through it would have you melting. The kind who knew he loved you and was gonna give you the best dicking of your life because that’s the worst you deserved from him.

You’re a goner when you decide you want to see his face when he unravels, pushing yourself upright and straight into how he’s spearing you from beneath. 

“Oh shit Joon.” 

“Fuck yes.”

It must hit different because all of a sudden the pressure around your stomach is immense and Joon has to push at your stomach to hold you up while he drills into your from below, feet now planted, lip now caught in his teeth. 

“Oh my god, oh m-, oh my fuck-”

“Fuck yess.”

A final push on your stomach, where his hand moulds against his dick inside of you has that same pressure blowing and his dick leaves you before it’s too late only to have yourself gush onto his abs.

“Fuckkkk,” your cry wavers because of the way your body shakes, or maybe it’s because Joon is suddenly back up into you with urgency. Your pussy is on him too tight for him to miss the opportunity to cum inside.

“Fuck yes, Y/N, holy shi-,” your eyes are open just in time to see his abs clench, his neck redden with the strain of holding back a full-blown growl and his head to fly back onto the headboard. 

A hand finds his exposed neck and squeezes because you’re still cumming, you think, and the way his eyes suddenly blow open as he cums even harder inside you just confirm your suspicions about his choking kink. 

He’s wet with sweat and spilled arousal and your hands slide up and down his body with fingertips thruming, body still on the buzz of a high. And it’s a tanitlising feeling the way his grip that dug into your hips now soothes at your sides, coarse fingers trailing your body like you’re fine china.  

“Well fuck.” 

There’s no post-sex depression, no instant regret setting in your bones, nothing drawing you to pull your body from his and whilst that would noramlly scare you, his gaze on yours makes you relish in the feeling of being safe. 

A large hand maps its way over the rise and fall of your chest, heart hammering like you’d just had an hours worth of too good sex, and steady fingers stop over that same pounding because he knows he made that happen. 

“Now I’m never letting you go.”

You hope his hand caught how your heart stuttered because that’s the only indication you reciprocate his words, your mouth failing you as a smile takes over instead. 

You’re giddy. High on some feeling that’s otherworldly and you’ve never been so happy to say you’ll take the criticism from your roommate just so you can be cringy to the world. 

------------------------------------------

���So.” 

Her tone says she knows what she wants to say but is prompting you to take the step.

“So…”

“You shagged him.” 

“Like you didn’t already know.”

Her mouth twitches against the glass as your roommate cradles her afternoon wine, trying to ease the pain of all too fresh memories of banging against her wall.

“Mmm, at least the guys got rhythm,” you sputter a little on the glass of white you poured for yourself in hope of diffusing the butterflies but also the throb of where his dick stretched you. She was never one to shy away from being candid.

“You’ve got no idea.”

“Stamina too from the way that bed was banging for hours.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You’re not. She knows it. But:

“Nah, I’m happy the guy finally dicked you down. Now you’ll finally shut up about never finding a guy to marry cos you couldn’t cum.”

You laugh, because you’d forgotten about you’re number one sex rule that had been uttered after too many failed attempts at pleasure and probably after too many beers. 

“So, when you proposing?”

“Fuck off.”

You and her both knew it was all jokes and loose arrangements, but the way your pussy still thrums and your muscles tighten at the prospect of waking up to that man and his dick every day, you might just go and buy that ring tomorrow.

[ohpretty-baby]

puff, puff, pass

⇥ pairing: hoseok x reader ; established relationship

⇥ genre: FLUFF, implicit smut, angst if you blink

⇥ synopsis: hoseok just thinks your face is really cute. that’s it. that’s the post.

⇥ warnings: cursing, mentions of ... the sex

⇥ word count: 5.3k

a cute lil hobi fic i started before i got requests! posting it cause school is stressful and writing is how i cope with the fact that school is a thing. also i need to expand my masterlist haha

i’m working on requests still i promise ;)

i know the title seems like it’s not related to the content in any way but i promise it somewhat is. also it made me laugh so i kept it there.

thank you all so much again for 100 followers! i truly am enamored with each one of you. 

i’ll be posting a drabble game soon, so be ready!!

enjoy my loves <3

You know how almost everyone has at least one thing that they inexplicably love dearly?

It's something that they can't really understand exactly why they love this thing. They just do. They hold it near and dear to their hearts, and it's always in the back of their minds. For some, it may consume them, causing them to obsess and lose their senses over it. For others, it provides comfort in times of distraught.

For many, it simply reminds you of the beauty of being alive and motivates you to be the best that you can be.

Sometimes it's a movie that one person saw during their childhood. Or maybe it's a certain poem that resonated while they were in love. It could be a stuffed animal, or it could be an actual person, like a parent or a lover.

Whether it be a person, animal, or movie, there is always at least one thing that humans are deeply attached to.

And for Jung Hoseok...

Well, for him, it was your face.

Your adorable, cute little face.

Why, you might ask?

Your face isn't his favorite just because he thinks you're physically attractive. Of course, he thinks you truly are beautiful, inside and out, and he's never gone one day without being stunned from looking at you or just watching you perform simple tasks, like drinking a glass of water.

In fact, Hoseok has never found anyone or anything as beautiful as you in his life.

Some mornings he'll watch you as you sleep peacefully under the covers, the sunlight seeping in through the curtains and glossing your skin. His eyes will trace your features, adoring how you were gorgeous without even trying. He'll notice the corners of your lips curving upwards unconsciously, causing a smile to creep up on his face as he wonders what you were dreaming about.

It's moments like these where Hoseok can't believe it. He cannot simply fathom the fact that you chose to be with him.

Hoseok knows that you simply exude beauty, as he was a constant witness of this fact.

But that wasn’t really the exact reason why Hoseok loved your face so much.

He loves the way your cheeks squish up and slightly cover your eyes when he cups your face in his hands. He loves lightly pinching your cheek whenever you tease him, loves the way your cheeks puff up when you're eating dinner with him at your favorite restaurant. Not to mention, he most definitely loves pecking your cheek whenever you're focused on something or when you're ranting to him about your day.

It's something about the way your cheeks are so soft and puffy whenever you smile that just makes Hoseok absolutely melt.

He knows that you hate how chubby your face is, and it perplexes him. The fact that you'd want to change your face is strange to him, really. He's actually spent many days trying to figure out this enigma, wondering why exactly you'd despise the face that he loves so dearly. The thought runs around his head constantly, dampening his mood whenever he ponders on it too much.

More often than not, the his friends would find Hoseok frozen in place and deep in thought, a small frown permanent on his face because of this enigma. It'd take them multiple tries to draw him out of whatever trance he was in, as Hoseok's eyes would be fixated on a spec of dust in the air or just a certain spot on the floor.

So Hoseok tries his best to make you smile as much as he can, to see your cheeks puff up. He can't explain why he loves it so much, but all he knows is that he becomes putty in your hands when you smile at him at like that.

And now, Hoseok knows every single way to see your beautiful grin that he loves so much.

Once, he was able to make you smile by making a fool of himself in public. Now, all he ever does is dance in the middle of the streets in order to see your eyes twinkle back up at him. Sometimes he'll look up from his phone to see you watching him, a small smile on your face now spreading from ear to ear when you finally have his attention.

Other times, Hoseok will say something really dumb in order to get you to roll your eyes at him and laugh at his stupidity. Most times, he'll feel you smile against his chest when he holds you close to him. He'll feel your cheeks puff up and squish against his chest as you would nuzzle your head into his body. Hoseok would coo at this, placing a sweet kiss on your head and running a hand through your hair.

Hoseok absolutely loves your lazy smiles as well.

The ones where you just wake up and you greet him with a grin and a kiss, your motions languid as sleep is still running its course through your body. Hoseok can't help but gush when he sees your lips move slowly, dreamily spreading into a smile just for him.

He loves the smiles you flash him while he's on top of you, your eyes half-lidded and your lips emitting soft sighs while you try your best to keep eye contact with him, just like he asked. You’re compliant to his demands, doing everything you can to keep up with him, which makes his heart soar. It would be late at night, your shared bedroom completely dark, save for the moonlight peering in through the window.

However, this didn't stop Hoseok from soaking in your appearance. He'd notice how your skin was covered with a slight sheen of sweat, making you shine under the moonlight. He'd take in how your cheeks were tinted soft shades of red, how your body slotted perfectly with his. He'd take note of how you would wrap your legs around him, leaving no space between the two of you.

He'd stare at your lips as they formed his name, calling out to him beautifully. Your voice would drown out every single sense of his,  Hoseok simply enamored with how you said his name. As the only sound in the room would be your sweet noises and Hoseok's occasional groans and deep breaths, he would watch as your face contorts in pleasure, your smile peeking out whenever Hoseok would reach a certain sweet spot.

And when you smiled, Hoseok could barely control himself, actions sporadic and nothing but praise for you falling from his lips.

It was safe to say that by the end of the night, both of you would be saying nothing but instead, flashing lazy, lethargic grins as you lulled off into sleep in each other's arms.

So when Hoseok says that he loves your face and that he loves you just the way you are, he means it. Deep in his heart, and even in his whole being, he means every single world. It's not like he could help it. For some reason he can't help but be enamored by you, can't help but to fall in deeper and deeper, especially when you smile at him like that.

Not a day goes by where Hoseok has not said:

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?"

He'll say this out of nowhere and at random times, causing your cheeks to heat up and making you smile shyly at him. He was a spontaneous person, and you never really knew when you he was going to tell you this. All you knew for sure was that he was going to tell you this at least once, if not multiple times, throughout the day.

He'll say it when you're washing the dishes after eating lunch with him, or when you're filling out paperwork and you're completely absorbed in the task. He'll even shout it when you're taking a shower and he's brushing his teeth, the loud water rushing on your skin drowning out some of his words. You could be watching tv and he'd simply tuck some of the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then tell you the saying you've come to know and love.

Even when the two of you bicker, Hoseok will always end the night with telling you that. He'll finally have you face him so he can kiss you, making any anger or bitterness between the two of you dissipate. You would laugh, forgetting exactly why you had gotten into an argument with him in the first place. You would then realize that the problem was stupid anyways, recognizing just how much Hoseok loved you.

And you would be lying if you said that the nights after arguments were your favorite, since you would spend them talking with him for hours on end.

In fact, you still remember the first time the two of you had gotten into a dispute.

To this day, neither of you could remember exactly what you had been fighting about. However, it was the one time Hoseok hadn't said his infamous catchphrase to you. Instead, he simply just ignored it, acting as if the phrase had never existed. Unbeknownst to him, you had been secretly waiting for him to say it, for the whole situation to blow over.

But it hadn't.

That night, Hoseok was eerily silent and his eyes were unbelievably cold, the burrow in his eyebrows delving deeper and deeper with each passing minute. You didn't know what to do, and you had your back turned to him, feigning sleep in order to save yourself from the awkward tension in the dense air.

It was a few seconds before both you and him had fully realized that you were crying, you body trembling and tears pooling down onto your pillow.

Immediately, Hoseok had changed his demeanor, returning back to the sweet boyfriend that he usually was. He was now spewing out apology after apology, wiping your eyes and holding you tight against him once more. You didn't know what had taken over you, and it made you embarrassed. You couldn't tell why you had become so emotional over a few simple words.

It made you feel dumb, as you had never been this vulnerable or sensitive to anyone. You never really cried in front of anyone. It wasn't a matter of pride, it was just because you didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or feel like they had to console you and your problems.

And he knew that, which is why it always somewhat shocked him when you cried in front of him. It was obvious by the way he looked at you with wide eyes and parted lips when he initially saw you crying.

Once Hoseok came back to his senses, however, this didn't matter to him anymore, as he was now rocking you back and forth gently in his arms, humming light melodies that softened the world around you.

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?" He finally said, his voice soft as to not disturb the tranquility of the atmosphere.

"You didn't today..." You pouted, gasping in between words as you tried to speak coherently.

"I'm sorry, darling," Hoseok sighed, genuine guilt in his tone.

Instead of saying anything, you nuzzled your head against his chest in response, inhaling the smell of mint and cotton, the scent calming you down. Hoseok chuckled, placing soft kisses all over your head. As he spoke sweet nothings into your ears, you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm making you feel safe and secure in his arms.

"Do you remember the day we first met, my love?"

You nodded to his deep, gravelly voice and let out a small, shaky laugh at the memory.

Although your meeting wasn't a very conventional moment, you had held the story near and dear to your heart.

It was a summer evening, the soft breeze finally coming in and cooling down the hot air from the day.  You spent this night at one of your "friend of a friend"'s infamous house parties, where everyone went batshit crazy and got wasted. It wasn't typically your scene, but you got the invite personally from Seokjin and it was quite an honor to get one, so with an inflated ego you decided to dress up and go.

Your best friend, Jungkook, would've agreed to go with you in a heartbeat, but that night he had a road trip he planned with his brother.

So with Jungkook's pro tips on house parties and what to do when you meet a creep, you decided to venture this event alone, promising him you'd tell him all the stories you were able to remember.

You weren't sure why you weren't afraid to go alone, but it was one of those unexplainable things where you just felt like you had to. After all, you were almost done with college and you told yourself that there should be at least one time where you went crazy as well, finally not caring about being cautious and instead letting yourself be reckless.

Of course you had known about Hoseok beforehand, through a few small whispers and mentions occasionally. All you knew about him was that he was one of Seokjin's best friends and that he apparently was good in bed. You payed no mind to it, as you weren't on to judge and you didn't really care about a complete stranger's life.

At the party, with the music booming and pulsing throughout the house, you had stolen an occasional glance or two from him. He flashed a couple smirks and winks at you, causing you to immediately avert your eyes and return your attention back on whatever you had in your cup. Eventually, he disappeared, and left you alone with your own thoughts sprinting around your head, as you wondered why someone random had gotten you so worked up.

You didn't know how long it took for you to finally stand up from the couch. But noticing how red your face had gotten, you decided that it would be a good idea to freshen up before anyone could see how flustered you had gotten over a simple wink.

When you finally reached the bathroom, pushing past intoxicated people and horny couples, you felt the air return to your chest as you finally got space. The door was closed, a small line of the bathroom light peeking out. You knocked on the door one, two, three times, and yet there was no answer. In response, you heard a few groans and some soft muttering. You stared at the door with wide eyes, thinking about what was going on behind the piece of wood standing in your way.

Being the nosy person you are, you felt inclined to press your ear on the door.

"You know we can't do this anymore," The statement was stern, yet the voice was deep and husky, the words almost coming out in taunts rather than warnings.

"Hoseok," You heard a girl whine in response, making you feel uncomfortable and almost made you feel guilty for eavesdropping, "Why not? You know I love you-"

"We broke up three months ago, Luna. Might I remind you that you cheated on me?" The comeback made you put a hand over your mouth to hide the gasp you oh so desperately wanted to let out, "Can you get over it?"

You heard shuffling and pondered if Hoseok was heading towards the door, but your own drowsy mind didn't really let you process the thought.

"Hoseok, I was drunk-"

The steps came to a stop.

"You still fucked my friend, didn't you?"

The situation was inappropriate, but you imagined what Hoseok looked like behind the door. The bathroom lighting most likely highlighted the slight sheen of sweat on his tan skin, and his hair was probably tousled messily from tugging at strands in frustration. Maybe his arms were crossed, accentuating his biceps, making them look bigger than before. Maybe his eyes were sharper than usual, an intense glare shooting at whoever was in front of him.

You took a small gulp and realized that you were holding your breath, making your whole body heat up. So this was one of the many wonders of alcohol. Or maybe it was just you and your vivid imagination. Either way you blamed your new attraction to Hoseok on the alcohol.

"But, Hoseok!" The girl pleaded, "You're not dating anyone, are you? Neither am I! Please... Give me one more chance."

Silence.

"Hoseok, don't you love me?"

"Luna-"

"You still do, don't you?" Confidence seemed to come back to her, "You can't deny it. So why can't we start over?"

"Fuck off. You're really not the same person to me anymore and it makes me laugh that you think this low of me."

"Hoseok, I promise I can change!"

You pressed your body closer to the door, even though it wouldn't help. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest, your ears hanging on to every second as you waited for another killer response from Hoseok.

It was silent.

All of sudden, the door clicked open, causing you to fall forward with a loud yelp. Hoseok caught you in his arms, holding you tightly and helping you steady yourself. Luna, his ex-girlfriend, stared at you with wide eyes, and her shock slowly turned into anger. Your shorts had slightly ridden up, and the loose sweater you had on slid down a bit, just barely showing off some skin. Even if you hadn't noticed, it was apparent that Hoseok had his eyes on you, scanning your body as he held you in his arms.

Your eyes met his, and you finally got a clear look at him. His tan skin, the sharp eyes you were imagining, and the way his lips looked so soft. Your mouth was slightly agape and Hoseok couldn't help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He knew that you had been staring at him, and it would be a lie if he said that he didn't want to talk to you.

You didn't know why, but all of a sudden Hoseok's lips curved upwards and spread into a big grin.

"I can't be with you anymore, Luna," He looked over at her, "You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

Hoseok helped you stand up and he wrapped an arm around your waist. You blinked, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you truly tried to process what exactly was going on.

"This is my girlfriend!" He said, his aggressive already leaving, "Isn't that right, baby?"

"Um, yes, I am... that," You stuttered, attempting to play along.

Before Luna could question anything, like how the two of you didn't really know each other's names and had no clue about each other's personal lives, Hoseok quickly greeted her goodbye and dragged you over to Seokjin's huge backyard. He led you to a small table on the cobblestone, gently placing you down on a chair. He walked off to grab two cups of water, one for and one for him.

"I'm sorry about all that," He chuckled, "It made you quite uncomfortable, didn't it?"

The situation and the cool night breeze from outside had somewhat sobered you up, allowing you to actually speak cohesive statements.

"Oh, you're fine," You responded, "I pretend to be Jungkook's girlfriend whenever he needs me to, so it's really no big deal."

"You know, Kook?" His eyes seemed to light up, and you nodded, "I love that kid! He’s crazy, isn’t he?”

"Yeah,” You shook your head, thinking about Jungkook and all his antics, “We’ve been friends since high school."

"Ah, you must be Y/N then, right?" He said, cocking his head to the right in curiosity, "Kook's mentioned you once or twice when I hang out with you. He says you're, like, really smart."

"Oh, really?" You respond, fidgeting with the fabric of your sweater.

"Mhm!" Hoseok's tone had quickly turned playful, "I'm Hoseok, by the way."

"I know," Now, it was you chuckling, "You and Seokjin are really popular with the girls."

"Oh," He flashed a sheepish smile, earning him another laugh from you, "That's quite embarrassing, no?"

You had long forgotten your need to relieve yourself in the bathroom, now choosing to spend the rest of your time with your new friend, Hoseok.

And that moment, in the dark, summer night, Hoseok saw you smile, the strings of fairy lights in Seokjin's backyard lighting your face, and he felt his whole world collapse down on him.

As the days passed, Hoseok found himself drawn to you. There wasn't a day where he wouldn't call out to you and promptly came running when he saw you on campus. People thought it was strange, seeing him talk to some random girl, and you had to admit it was hard to handle Hoseok's energy at times. He attracted so many people to him, and they often gave you weird looks, examining you and wondering why Hoseok wanted to associate himself with you.

It definitely took a while before his friends even approved of your friendship let alone the relationship that would slowly bloom in front of everyone's eyes.

Even though it was difficult at times to keep up with Hoseok, the more you got to know him, the more you became attached. You wanted to know everything about him, wanted to see him and be there for him at his best times and at his worst times. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you desperately yearned to know about his family, to know what he was like when no one was around. Was he as cheerful as he usually is? Does he have a mean bone in his body?

You couldn't describe it, but the way your chest fluttered and the way your face was fixed in a permanent smile whenever you were around him seemed to say it for you. You were in deeper than you wanted to.

But still, you couldn’t but find yourself drawn to him as well.

Jung Hoseok, the man who always bought you random drinks from the vending machine whenever you were studying and wrote cute little notes on the bottles to motivate you. Hoseok, the man who would text you jokes at random times of the day simply because they made him laugh and he wanted to share them with you, who’d call you late at night because he “didn’t know how to do simple math” and end up talking to you late into the early morning. The man who always seemed to know whenever you were down, the man who could read your emotions more than Jungkook, your own best friend, could.  At times, Hoseok seemed to know more about you than you knew about yourself.

He made sure he was there for all of your ups and downs, and you made sure you were there for him too. There wasn't a moment when you'd be stressed out over something and he wouldn't immediately come to your dorm with ice cream and movies the two of you could watch. Jung Hoseok, in every aspect, was such a caring person, and he always made sure that you were okay. Even when you didn't ask to, he'd check up on you and spend as much time with you as he could.

Of course you had always wondered why he had been so nice to you, and to that response Jungkook would roll his eyes and say:

"Hoseok likes you, dumbass," He'd flick your forehead as he teased you, "He literally looks at you like you’re his whole world. Are you that stupid to not see it?"

Almost everyone in your new found friend group knew, as they also gave suggestive, teasing looks to Hoseok when the two of you were together. You had always ignored these, opting to keep your attention on him instead of his friends. You hoped that Hoseok liked you as much as you liked him, since you found yourself being more and more attracted to him the more you hung out with him. (And you hung out with a lot).

It wasn't a surprise that when Hoseok finally asked you out on a date, you leaped into his arms with a grin from ear to ear.

When Jungkook found out, he couldn't help but rub your own achievements in your face, telling you that he was right and that you should've listened to him.

But that didn't matter if you were right and wrong when you were dating Hoseok.

Now, after all those years, the two of you lay in your shared king bed in your own house. You realize just how far the two of you have gotten, and you can't help but feel thankful that it's Hoseok you get to spend the rest of your life with.

And Hoseok feels the same way. He's more than excited to be able to see you like this every night, where you're safe and secure in his arms.

"I remember seeing you for the very first time," He clicked his tongue, deep in thought after the two of you reminisced on how you met, "The first thing I said to myself was that if I could ever have the chance of dating you, I'd be the luckiest man alive."

"Bullshit," You teased, now making him pout, "There's no way you really felt that way, especially if we had just met."

"You don't believe me, beautiful?" His pet names were honey to your ears, "Ah, my dear, why would I ever lie to you?"

"...So you're saying you believed in love at first sight?"

"Baby, I know it was love at first sight," He pinched your cheek as he spoke, eyes turning soft as he stared at your face, "Did you not feel that way when you first saw me?"

Hoseok knew he said the right thing when he finally saw his favorite red shades tinting your cheeks.

"Oh- Well, I just-" You groaned, hiding your face in his chest, "You can't just do that!"

Hoseok laughed, your stutters vibrating against his skin. His laughter reverberated around your ears, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

After that, the two of you talked about anything and everything. Hoseok would sprinkle little jokes or comments in order to get you to laugh at him and make fun of him. There was nothing but love exuding from the two of you, the tension in the room fully disappearing and becoming replaced with the happiness from before.

Hoseok often wonders how he did it, how he's able to be with someone like you. Saying that he was blessed to have you would be an understatement in his eyes. In fact, he'd say it was even an injustice. There truly weren't nearly enough words in the dictionary to describe his love and gratefulness for you.

But Hoseok didn't exactly know what word to use, so unfortunately, he had to stick with those.

Sometimes, Hoseok thinks it about it so much that he gets into his own head.

It's the moments where he stays scarily quiet, where his eyes are focused on you as doubts run around rampantly in his mind. He's so worried that one day you'll look at him and think that he's not enough for you, that he's not worth spending your life with. He'll think that he's really not enough for you and that thought will engrave itself so deep into his head that it'll occupy him with every waking moment. It'll be hard for him to look you in the eye. He'll still be close to you but it'll be hard for him to give you the affection that he wants so badly to give.

Then he feels stupid for feeling this way, because if you thought he wasn't good for you, you would've been gone already, right? Hoseok thinks that he should be giving you all his love, not worrying about being enough for you. This makes him feel worse, which in turn buries the thought deeper and deeper in his mind, up to the point where he can't find an escape. He'll feel his world plummet, the palette of his pink-shaded universe darkening.

That's when he feels your hand on his, where he'll realize that he's been staring blankly into open space for God knows how long.

The sound of his name on your lips will ring in his ear, oh how he loves to hear it. Hoseok feels the pace of his heartbeat speed up rapidly, faster than he'd like to admit. His cheeks are warm, and it almost makes him laugh how easy it is for you to get him all riled up.

You'll stare at him for a while, your eyes slowly trailing down onto his lips. Hoseok hangs on to every second in this moment, watching you as you examine his face. He knows that you probably know what's going on in his mind, and for that he feels a little guilty. He hopes that he isn't burden, and he opens his mouth to apologize.

When his lips part, however, you take this chance to kiss him, grabbing his hands and putting them on your waist. Hoseok gets the message, chuckling in between lip locking and pulling you close to him, eagerly roaming every inch of your skin that he could get his hands on.

He's pulled out of the dark headspace, now only surrounded by your love and the feeling of your soft lips. All of his attention is back on you and he melts, feeling nothing but tender love from you.

And when the two of you finally pull away, your eyes are trained on each other, chests heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Hoseok just knows that you want to tell him words of comfort when he gets like this. He knows that because of the way your eyes sadden whenever he gets quiet. He sees how it unnerves you, how you bite your lip when you're also deep in thought. The gears are turning around viciously in your head as you try to find the words to say.

You hesitate to speak and Hoseok can't help but find it cute as you sputter out nonsense. He knows you're not the best with your words, and that's completely okay. He knows that you worry about not saying the right thing around him, but Hoseok always reminds you that there's not much you could say to get him upset. But still, you're focused as you try to find what would be perfect to say in this situation.

So Hoseok waits patiently, adoring how your cheeks slowly turn redder and redder while you awkwardly try to give him verbal solace.

"Seokie..." You call him that when you're especially flustered, "You know I love you, right?"

He nods in response, a stupid grin on his face quickly forming.

"And do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Good," You giggle, "Let's keep it that way."

And then there it is. The moment Hoseok's been waiting for. The moment he's been waiting for his whole entire life.

Your bright smile, lightening up the darkest of his days. He feels awestruck, his regained breath quickly leaving his chest once more. Hoseok's world is stained pink, the sight of your smile making him melt on the spot. His loving gaze, in turn, causes you to heat up and giggle.

That's when Hoseok realizes that he's been worried about nothing after all. That you're perfect for him and he's perfect for you. That nothing else feels right to him except for you.

Hoseok sees the way you smile at him, sees the way your eyes twinkle back at him, and he can't help but fall more and more in love with you.

And as per your request, Hoseok will keep it that way.

He'll keep it that way for as long as he lived.

hope you guys liked it! take care my loves <3

[accidentalspaceexplorer]

It is finally the end of 2020, so it’s time to look at my reading stats for the year!

Overall, I’m happy with how much I read this year, since I exceeded my goal of 100 by a good margin, but I didn’t actually like what I read this year as much. Including my ratings for the books I DNF’d this year, my average rating was 3.82/5, which is much lower than last year’s total (4.13/5). Overall, I think this happened for a couple of reasons: the pandemic meant that I wasn’t checking things out from the library for like three months so I wasn’t getting as many things I was excited about, I was more focused on my goals this year (more on that later), and I read more things outside of my comfort zone. I did read some really awesome stuff though, and I’ll have my favorites for this year up soon, but I also read a lot of stuff I didn’t like as much.

Other stats:

I DNF’d 15 books this year

I re-read 14 books this year

74% of the books I read were by female authors

I read 6 books by nonbinary and genderqueer authors

25% of the books I read were by authors of color

42% of the books I read had LGBTQIA+ representation in them

I read 9 nonfiction books

My top 3 genres were fantasy (49 books), romance (36 books), and science fiction (28 books)

It is now time for the aforementioned check-in with my goals! I have a separate post that I’ve previously used to track my goals here but I’m going to talk about the final results down below (spoiler alert I didn’t do them haha)

I definitely didn’t do very well on the goals I set for myself this year. Part of that is that each individual goal is reasonable but without doubling anything, I wanted myself to read at least 115 books to meet my goals. Given the number of books I read this year, it was doable, but it would have required me to be on top of my goals from the beginning of the year and read like no mood books, which is pretty unreasonable I think. Next year I will be setting up my goals very differently! (A separate post will be going up soon about that.)

On to the actual goals now!

finish the books that have been sitting on my Goodreads currently reading list for years - the only one left is Clariel, which is one I was re-reading as an audiobook with my husband, so since he hasn’t been in the mood for it it didn’t happen. Otherwise I was successful! I’m actually really pleased that I managed to finish the rest of them. (6/7, success)

get my physical TBR bookshelf down to one shelf of books - this one didn’t quite happen. My physical TBR is now primarily on one shelf, with the second shelf being devoted to my library TBR and a few of the physical TBR books I’d really like to get to soon. (fail)

read more romance novels - in 2019 I read 33 romance novels, and this year I read 36! By percentages it’s a failure because I read a lot more books this year, but by flat number it’s a success so I’m taking that one haha. (36/34, success)

read through the first twenty-two books on my Goodreads TBR (up through The Collapsing Empire) - I got so close on this one, but didn’t end up finishing The Collapsing Empire before the end of the year sigh. (21/22, fail)

review every book I read - I didn’t quite make it to this one, although I am planning to catch up soon. There are probably 7 books that I read for the first time this year that I haven’t writtten any kind of review for. Weirdly, almost all of them are books that I loved. (120/127, fail)

read Harrow the Ninth - success! I loved it too. (1/1, success)

read Network Effect - success! I also loved this one. (1/1, success)

read more fantasy and sci-fi romance novels - last year, I read 4 fantasy and sci-fi romance novels, and this year I read 8, so I win! (8/4, success)

read more books by non-binary authors - I read 5 books by nonbinary authors this year and one by a genderqueer author, which is much better than I have been doing. (6/3, success)

read at least 5 books in translation - I only read 3: Daughter of Fortune, Persepolis 2, and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead. (3/5, fail)

read 2 books in Spanish - I DNF’d Cien años de soledad, does that count? (.5/2, fail)

read The Laird of Duncairn - I just didn’t do this (0/1, fail)

read Zeus Grants Terrible Wishes - I also didn’t do this (0/1, fail)

find a book club I like - I started one with my friends, which was a great way to get around my problem of not liking the selections in the book clubs I was looking at. (1/1, success)

read 4 more Discworld books, up through Maskerade - I am currently listening to Maskerade, but we’re not done with it yet. (3.5/4, fail)

read 8 nonfiction books - I read 9, although I did DNF one. I did really enjoy some of the ones I read, although there were some definite misses as well. I read The Curve of Time, Because Internet, The Lost Kingdom of the Monkey God, Organizing Success, Wait Till Next Year, Storm in a Teacup, Knitting in the Old Way, Strangers in Their Own Land, and Persepolis 2. (8.5/8, success)

read 3 volumes of poetry - I only read 2 - Felicity and the princess will save herself in this one, neither of which I liked. (2/3, fail)

read Full Fathom Five - this book was really excellent! (1/1, success)

read another book by Guy Gavriel Kay - nope (0/1, fail)

catch-up on at least 3 series - I caught up on 5 and finished 4, although I did start 3 of those in 2020. I also started 15 series, so like...not ideal. However I technically did it haha (9/3, success)

Overall, that’s 10/20, which is not great. One of the things that I really noticed by the end of the year when I was really trying to catch up on the goals was that I had really made reading into a chore. I would catch myself thinking, “No I can’t read Take a Hint, Dani Brown, I have to read Daughter of Fortune next, because it’s on the list.” and that kind of thinking really saps the fun out of reading for me. So next year, I’m not setting concrete goals like read 3 ___ books or read more ____ books, although I am going to encourage myself to read certain categories of books. More on that in the goals post!

[jones-friend]

Legendary Commentary: Simic

The Simic guild was one of my first forays into building my own deck. What I always loved about their synergy is your tech creatures BECOME your beaters for maximum efficiency. Favorites like Fathom Mage, Biomass Mutation, Give//Take, its a good time. Lets take a look at them.

E Kraj is one of my favorite commanders and is a very unique one. You can essentially steal activated abilities off your opponents’ creatures. If you add in March of the Machines you can steal abilities from Sol Rings, Trading Posts, there’s a lot to pick from. Kraj can accidentally infinite combo really, REALLY easily. Farmstead Gleaner and Incubation Druid make infinite mana/counters on Kraj. There’s two ways these decks go: get more abilities like Omnibian or go for voltron/combo with Thornling style effects. Renata and Durable Handicraft land counters as you play things readying Kraj.

Momir is a tutor commander. Understand, if you play a tutor commander like Sidisi 2.0, Malaren, Zur, you’re going to execute the same strategy each time. That’s not the point of 100 card singleton, but if you want each game to be identical I cannot physically stop you from building that deck. But I can use snarky images from afar.

Zegana is a game changer for simic, celebrating your largest creature for draw AND making a creature just as big. She can easily go sea monsters with her ramp and draw. What ends up happening is you unload all your ramp, play one Stormtide Leviathan or Breaching Leviathan, then drop Zegana to redraw your hand. Leviathan, Kraken, Octopus, all solid creature types. If you want to go counters, Evolve triggers build up your field in the beginning and adding on counters on counters makes Zegana happy.

Vorel is a commander with a lot of creative potential. The ability is expanded beyond creatures. Darksteel Reactor is a solid choice. Sunburst artifacts like Pentad Prism can go bonkers. Charge counter tech like Astral Cornucopia and Everflowing Chalice are crazy good. The important thing is, it you go Vorel you need to expect you’ll be supporting one thing to become giant each turn. Support like Illusionist’s Bracers and Magewright Stone keep the untaps flowing. Power matters cards like Fungal Sprouting and Rishkar’s Expertise can do great.

Everyone had a collective :( when they saw Zegana got demoted. While Momir is a tutor commander Vannifar is a pod commander. You’ll study your curve as with Yisan or Rashmi, when you pod you’ll have a tier of mana costs available to you. You’ll want to load up on ETB’s across the spectrum to have a diverse set of choices to tutor out. Emerge effects are great since the ability doesn’t cost mana. Foster can help keep creatures in hand as your pod’d creatures rise in cmc. Woodfall Primus is excellent in this deck as are most persist creatures, things that can die more than once let you retutor that tier of mana cost.

Honestly, I don’t think Zegana 2.0 is bad. I run her. She’s a more militant simic. Lets take a look at her abilities. Drawing on ETB will almost always happen. Adapt lets you choose how to spend your mana in combat, and an 8/8 trampling commander is SCARY. Then giving each creature with counters trample on your commander? Super useful. While she’s not the flashiest simic commander she will make your deck function and make it work.

And that covers Simic! Counters on counters on counters. One more guild to go. I’d love to hear your thoughts on these, feel free to dm me over these. Safe planeswalking.

[patientfocusly]

headcanon + family !

@alnaari      [     meme     accepting !      ]

( sorry in advance because i kind of hijacked this ask to update my overall family headcanon for shiro instead of the tidbit that i intended for it to be adkfjgh )

tl;dr:  Shiro’s family are people he would not only die for, but people he has unwavering belief in and has given a part of who they are, to create who he is, and likewise, they contain a part of who he is, within them.    

Shiro is second generation American. I headcanon Voltron to be set roughly around 100 - 150 years into the future. Shiro’s parents were drawn out to America to join the rest of their extended family who also made the move throughout the years, though leaving behind Shiro’s grandparents on his father’s side. Shiro’s mother was pregnant with Shiro’s older sister, Toshiko, during their move. Shiro was born 3 years later, in Sacremento, where they’d settled down. ( I also imagine migration is a lot less of a hassle in this time ~ but I’ll make a post of how I imagine the VLD post-modern world would differ to our current reality later. )

The four of them were extremely close. Shiro grew up loved and supported and getting up to mischief with his big sister. Shiro was extremely close to his mother when he was young. His father was a little strict and slow to understand some Western constructs, but was overall open-minded if he could see that it was what was best for his children. Shiro could confide in his sister literally anything under the sun. This bond only began to fracture when Shiro was diagnosed with MND*1 at age 16, during his first year at GG.  

VLD doesn’t mention Shiro’s family at all. Not at the Kerberos launch, not in his visualisation during lion bonding, and not when the group return to Earth. These facts are what has prompted the headcanon that Shiro’s parents and sister are no longer alive.

~I haven’t hashed out the circumstances around this too much but here’s a brief timeline of the events -       He loses his mother at age 6 due to terminal illness -       He loses his father at age 20 due to a hit and run -       His sister is caught in the Galra cross-fire, leaving behind her husband and two year old son*2.

Shiro is no stranger to loss, starting with the fading memories of his mother. Life keeps taking and taking from him. Every moment of success or happiness, seems only to be rewarded with pain and more suffering. And this cycle continues for him as we are introduced to him in VLD i.e. reaching the edge of the solar system - only to be captured by the Galra, finally escaping and returning to Earth – only to be launched back into space and having to fight in an intergalactic war, finding a semblance of peace with new friends and new purpose – only to die, is brought back to life – only to live with the debilitating guilt and dysphoria of living in another’s body. And so on.

A year or so after his father’s death is when I headcanon that Adam proposed to Shiro. The accident was a reminder of how unguaranteed life really is, and they already felt like they didn’t have enough time with the imminent worsening of Shiro’s illness. Adam was Shiro’s family. Adam made Shiro happy. At this point, Shiro had begun to notice the pattern of happiness and loss, and a part of him was expecting to lose Adam. (This may or may not have played a minor part in Shiro’s decision to go on the mission. Just a minor part, but significant enough to mention, all the same).

Shiro always had a close friend in Keith. There was something in him that called out to Shiro, and his gut instinct turned out to be right. The fact that they both understood loss beyond their years must’ve helped the understanding they had with each other, though they never spoke about it beyond the conversation we saw in VLD about Keith’s father. Keith is Shiro’s family. While in space, this bond only strengthens as they face the hardships of war and hard decisions together. Keith becomes an irreplaceable part of Shiro’s life. 

Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Allura, and Coran are an unlikely group of people that are thrown into Shiro’s life path but find a place nestled in the twists and curves of it. Without a common cause to fight for, they may never have even met, let alone become a united front, an understanding forming between them that can come only from shared experience, impenetrable. But life isn’t about what doesn’t happen, or what could’ve happened; it’s about what does happen and it’s outside of your control. There’s a closeness he feels with them that can’t be manufactured by any other means apart from trusting someone with his life, and having them trust him of the same.

He feels a special closeness with Allura. She, too, has suffered and lost, in greater quantities than even Shiro can fathom. She, too, has had leadership placed upon her, based sheerly on the fact that there is no one else to carry the burden. Sometimes they butted heads, but they always believed in each other, and more importantly, they believed and wished wholeheartedly for the same future. Their bond strengthened when Shiro’s soul passed through Allura to enter his new body – something that also allowed him to receive Allura’s Altean crystal as the energy source for his cybernetic arm, and perhaps even pilot the Atlas as a mecha-tron. Allura was    is Shiro’s family. 

In summary, Shiro’s family are people he would not only die for, but people he has unwavering belief in and has given a part of who they are, to create who he is, and likewise, they contain a part of who he is, within them.    

*1 Please see Shiro’s illness headcanon *2 I didn’t want to stray too far from canon, but I’m also holding onto the headcanon of Shiro having a sister. So in my canon, he asks Commander Iverson about Toshiko when the crew return to Earth who informs him of her fate ~ he doesn’t find out about his nephew until later. In any non-canon AUs, Toshiko is alive.

[charlieism]

Unguarded Curls

Read on AO3! 

Just 2k of Reed900 fluff (based on Detroit Evolution)

Summary: It was the small moments like this that reminded Nines of how strong his feeling of love for Gavin was. Lying in bed in the morning, Gavin resting half on top of him and Nines playing with his hair… it was terribly domestic, and Nines didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it. 

--

Nines drew himself out of stasis when he felt Gavin shift gently against him, the first stirrings the man made all night. He registered a hundred things the moment his eyes opened: the time (8.21 A.M); the weather (cloudy, though with little chance of rain); and Gavin’s heart rate and stress levels, amongst other things. He knew Gavin didn’t particularly like Nines scanning him, but it was like an automatic response, something as close to instinct as the android could get. His first thought upon waking was always to make sure that Gavin was okay. And, thankfully, he was. Gavin’s movements weren’t because he was having a nightmare; instead, they were because he was waking up.

They were lying in bed next to each other, Nines propped up ever so slightly upon some pillows while Gavin lay sprawled almost diagonally across the mattress, using Nines’ shoulder as a pillow. Nines couldn’t really fathom why, seeing as his chassis was hardly more comfortable than the pillows decorating Gavin’s bed, but he appreciated it nonetheless. The contact was… nice. Sweet. It made Nines feel warm, and endeared him greatly to his boyfriend, especially seeing as waking up in this position on a day off meant the probability of them ‘cuddling’ was up 64%. Seeing as Nines didn’t actually need to sleep, not in the same way Gavin did, he usually got up earlier than his boyfriend and made him breakfast before hustling them both out of the door and into work. However, today was Saturday and they had the day off, with no other place they needed to be. Which meant that Nines could lie here for as long as he liked and pay special attention to the heavy huff of air and incoherent grumble Gavin let out as he sluggishly awoke; the way he clung closely to Nines and pressed his face into the android’s shoulder in lieu of opening his eyes to the light filtering in from behind the curtains; the way his arm tightened around Nines’ waist and the feeling of his soft hair tickling Nines’ neck. He was adorable. Not that Nines would ever tell him so, of course, at least not like this. It’d only make Gavin flustered, embarrassed and prickly, and determined never to let Nines see him in that state again in case Nines ever teased him for it. Which was ridiculous, but that was how his boyfriend worked, so Nines bit his tongue and settled for smiling softly at him instead.

“Good morning,” he murmured. There was a pause, and then Gavin groaned.

“M’rning,” he slurred, muffled by Nine’s shoulder. Nine’s grin widened at the almost unintelligible word. A fond feeling bubbled up in his chest, light and fluttery and unbearably warm, an emotion Nines only ever felt when he was around Gavin. He glanced away from the human, staring at the ceiling and smiling to himself instead. The skin on his hand retracted without Nines’ permission, the gleaming white chassis revealing itself. He brought the hand up to comb through Gavin’s curly hair without thinking, feeling the silky strands slip between his fingers over and over. Gavin hummed and curled into him, tilting his head and arching into the touch, much like Gavin’s cat did whenever he or Gavin petted it. Nines looked back down and saw Gavin’s eyes were still closed, his long, dark eyelashes feathery against his cheeks, but his face was smoothed out in contentment. Nines studied his face for a moment; he already had every angle, expression and feature perfectly memorised, of course, but each time he looked at his boyfriend he just wanted to remain still and gaze at him for a while. Androids were designed to be aesthetically pleasing, but Gavin was beautiful in a way Nines sometimes found hard to describe. Nines didn’t scar, didn’t break, didn’t change; he was, objectively, flawless. But Gavin’s beauty was different and strong; his handsomeness was rough and real from the curve of his lips to the arch of his eyebrows, from the scar arcing across the bridge of his nose to the scratch of his stubble, from the (gradually lessening) shadows under his eyes to the fluffy curls of his hair. 

Speaking of… Nines’ eyes flickered to the hair that he was slowly running his fingers through, and remained fixated there. During the day Gavin usually had his hair gelled and combed back, wrestled into a sort of tousled neatness. It still waved and curled, but less so than it naturally would, and in a contained and held back way. It had taken a surprising amount of time for Gavin to let Nines see his hair undone, which Nines hadn’t expected but supposed was just another one of Gavin’s peculiarities, or vulnerable points. In the beginning they never saw each other past work hours, and then, slowly, they’d begun spending time after work together. But as long as Nines was around, whether they’d been on a stakeout or he was staying the night at Gavin’s place, the man went to bed with his hair still done (if looser and messier than it had been during the day). And when he awoke in the morning his curls would have sprung out slightly more, but the sight never lasted long before Gavin was showering or redoing his hair, and it was never as wild as Nines now knew the hair would be if left untouched. But now they were in a relationship Gavin had begun to let Nines see him in the morning, or after a shower, with his hair dry and clean and curly.

He’d washed it last night, and the hood he slept in had slipped down in the night, which meant that Nines could see the thick mop perfectly. The brunette curls were loose and wild, splaying in every direction. His hair was light and fluffy in the absence of any hair gel or product, the curls and floof sticking out in every which way. Nines grinned as he stared at it, even as the area where his thirium pump was clenched almost painfully. Nines loved him, it was one of the only feelings he was 100% certain of, and despite all the near death experiences, exhilarating moments, and romantic gestures they’d shared, somehow it was the small moments like this that reminded him how strong that feeling of love was. Lying in bed in the morning, Gavin resting half on top of him and Nines playing with his hair… it was terribly domestic, and Nines didn’t think he’d ever get enough of it. He was blessed to be allowed to see all Gavin’s defenses down. He remembered that first time he’d stayed the night with Gavin; how Gavin had opened up to him after his nightmare, sought comfort for the first time in who knows how long, and finally let himself be vulnerable around the android. And Nines remembered how confused and hurt he’d been the next morning when Gavin had abruptly clammed up and closed off, with panic, mortification and self-hate radiating off him as he realised he’d shown the android such a strongly protected side of himself, until he was yelling at Nines to get out. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened since. Gavin’s openness and vulnerability were clear to Nines now in the way his muscles remained relaxed; in how unabashedly he held onto Nines; in the way Gavin let Nines run his fingers through his hair, hold him close, and smile gently at him without him pulling away, or speaking up, or even opening his eyes.

Wait, scratch that.

When he glanced down he saw one of Gavin’s eyes was now open, peeking at him from where he was snuggling against Nine’s shoulder and crinkling with amusement. Its enchanting hazel colour was practically sparkling.

“Enjoying yourself?” Gavin teased. Nines’ fingers froze where they were tangled in the locks.

“Your hair is rather fluffy today,” Nines said, not bothering to stop the shit-eating grin that spread across his face. Gavin scrunched up his face and scowled up at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he groaned. Nines paused for a second, trying to figure out if Gavin was actually annoyed or insecure, but Gavin solved his problem a moment later.

“...I didn’t say stop,” he grumbled. Nines’ smile returned, more tender this time.

“Of course.” 

He resumed running his hand through the ruffled curls, scratching his fingertips gently along Gavin’s scalp as he went. The human sighed in contentment, eyes slipping closed again, and Nines suddenly wondered when, if ever, the last time somebody had done something like this for Gavin was. When he’d last been granted a simple, comforting touch just for the sake of it. Despite his face being mainly hidden by Nines’ own chest, he could see that Gavin’s expression was calm and happy. Nines knew, with a twist in his chest, that it had been a long time before Nines that Gavin had allowed himself to be so close to someone, especially the kind of person willing to do loving things like this with him. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Gavin’s temple, unable to resist the urge. Gavin blinked his eyes open again, but when he saw whatever emotion Nines’ face was currently showing and the way the android’s smile had dropped, his pleased expression flickered and dimmed.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, of course. I just… love you, Gavin,” Nines replied. Gavin’s eyes widened fractionally, the way they did almost every time Nines admitted his love. Gavin knew Nines loved him, and Nines knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was loved in return, but Gavin still seemed in disbelief about it sometimes.

“I know,” he said gently. “I love you too, tin can.” Nines chuckled and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation at the name.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Says you! That’s probably the one word in the English language that best describes you,” Gavin jabbed.

“Shut up, asshole,” Nines grinned, and Gavin barked out a laugh, flipping onto his back but keeping his head resting on Nines’ shoulder.

“Pass me my phone,” he said, and Nines grabbed his phone off the dresser and handed it to the man. Gavin opened it up and gestured airily at Nines without even sparing him a glance.

“Continue.”

“You’re not royalty,” Nines spluttered, amused despite himself, and reached out to tug sharply on a curl.

“Ow, fucker, do it properly!” Gavin scowled. Nines smiled sweetly at him.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said innocently.

“Yeah, yeah, butter wouldn’t melt in your plastic mouth,” Gavin scoffed, and turned back to his screen. Nines quietly resumed threading his fingers through Gavin’s hair, and they remained like that for a while, Gavin scrolling through social media and Nines lost in his own head.

Nines messaged Connor for a bit, skimmed over their current case file again, then read through some of the latest news articles. It was past 9 A.M when he decided he was growing bored, and he turned his attention back to the hair he’d absently been messing with. He experimentally pulled a fluffy lock upwards, and watched as it swayed gently and stayed in place. His lips quirked in amusement and he wrapped a tight curl around his finger, pulling it until it straightened out, then let go and watched it ping back into place. Gavin raised his eyebrows, looking upwards from his phone towards his own hairline, then glanced at Nines wryly.

“Really?” he deadpanned. Nines silently unfurled another small curl and let go, watching it instantly roll itself back up. Gavin rolled his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” He heaved a long-suffering sigh and hoisted himself up, rolling out of bed. Nines raised his eyebrows but followed him easily, dusting himself off.

“Breakfast?” he asked. Gavin stretched, his arms extending above his head and muscles tensing, and groaned.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” The man wandered over to his drawers and opened one, digging through for a change of clothes. Nines lingered by the doorway, watching him attentively. That way he saw the moment Gavin glanced tiredly upwards and caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes widened and his hand flew up to the top of his head, to the hair that now looked twice as messy and voluminous as usual due to Nines’ lazy, mischievous interference.

“What the fuck did you do to my hair!?” he cried in disbelief. Nines laughed loudly and ducked out of the room.

“Nines! This is going to take forever to fix!”

“I think you look fine,” Nines called back, grinning stupidly. “Keep it like that!”

“I hate you!”

“You love me,” Nines shot back loudly, stepping into the kitchen.

“Asshole!” Gavin hollered. Nines could picture him still standing by the mirror, staring in horror at the curly, fluffy mess that was now his hair. He laughed in response.

“I love you too, Gavin!”

[thecloserkin]

fell down an éomer/éowyn rabbithole, 100% @spookyshai’s fault, have a grab bag of recs

I rewatched The Two Towers and it’s clear to me Karl Urban has chemistry with everyone up to and including lampposts. Just a reminder everyone make sure you watch the extended cut not the theatrical cut, it’s worth it just for Éowyn’s face when she finds out Aragorn is 87 years old.

I am a slut for angst but even so these fics hurt me. The “darkest before the dawn” vibe is strong with this pairing, half the fic is them fucking before he rides off to patrol, and they’ve got that unhealthily-codepdenedent-orphan-children angle going for them too.

Care by Halrloprillalar (1k)— literally the platonic ideal of a bedsharing fic, @spookyshai calls the prose “disgustingly beautiful” and i could not agree more: “Éomer learned her body, intent upon each curve, as though he were a skald and Éowyn a verse that he was making.”

Hope by elceri (1.2k)—whatever you think of the one-sidedness of Éowyn’s attraction to Aragorn that chemistry was through the fucking roof (there was zero chemistry with Faramir). i loved how this fic drew on the parallels between Éowyn and Aragorn’s plights: they are both profoundly lonely people looking over the horizon for their beloved’s return (Éomer, Arwen—well Aragorn has mixed feelings about Arwen returning since it would mean she chose mortality but ykwim). Y’all know by now that the seamless progression of platonic affection to romantic attachment is my kryptonite, so this is the line that gutted me: “the soft kisses and caresses that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember and the heated lovemaking that had come with age. She could not fathom a life without him, for as long as she had known life, there had been him. Only him. Only Éomer.” And headcanoning Théodred as gay so he promised to marry Éowyn as a beard and then her and Éomer could continue as they were??? i swear my soul ascended on the spot

My Own by Rainchilde (2.7k, warning for noncon)—one of the most shippable aspects of their relationship has always been Grima Wormtongue lurking in the shadows, because you have on the one hand A STALKER and otoh the person whom she trusts and values most in the world. the contrast is plain. i’m all for scenarios where the stalker’s unwanted attentions drive the girl into her brother’s arms (see Dante’s Stars) but this fic actually examines what Éomer has in common with Grima, viz. he wants to make Éowyn his yet she is just as unattainable to him as to Grima

Made Bare by Dana (0.4k)—I am always here for horny swordplay: “He licks his lips, watching her, parted lips and parted legs, and the pounding of his heart is a dull roar in his ears.”

Steadfast by hesychasm (3.3k) — they get it on in the stables asdfdfkdjfdkf it’s extra sexy bc of their shared history, they’re children of Rohan they were practically born in the saddle and it’s just. so hot. This is the eve of her official engagement to Faramir and Éomer has left the banquet hall early for Reasons; we get nuggets of internal monologue from him like: “I judged the mare a good enough gift for my sister, though Gondor-bred.” The subtext being no man or beast in all of Gondor is good enough for Éowyn lmaooo. "Can I not love you both?” she protests, and he says, ”I do not believe even your heart is so great." Ouch ouch ouch. On the subject of her husband-to-be: “He knows already who is first in my heart."

Blood Remembers by musesfool (2.4k) — So many shared memories, moments, milestones! For instance, it’s she who comforts him after he has to give a comrade the mercy stroke. Losing their virginity to each other is such a logical extension & culmination of all that history: “’I dreamt you were dead,’ she whispered … She ran her fingers over the arch of his cheek, the bow of his lips, and followed her hand with her mouth … His hands touched her in places no man had ever touched before. His lips sought hers and the gentle good night kisses they'd shared over the years transmuted into something harder, darker, more urgent.” AND THEN: “The years have passed swiftly since that night, and no other man has yet stirred her blood to such passion. She believes none ever will, and is reconciled to a life alone.” KILL ME NOW GAHHH

Dirt and Gold by Empyreus (1k)—outsider POV Gríma, i’m pretty sure this fic was written specifically FOR ME jesus fucking christ so Éomer and Éowyn are lowkey banging and Gríma apparently lingers at keyholes to listen???: “‘You reek of him, of your brother the wild rider,’ he had wanted to say. "I can feel the sweat that surely slicked your skin.’” Also this: "Is there anything you will deny him? For all your ice, you too burn when the heat is too fierce. When your brother tells you to burn."

Hammer and Tongs by Halrloprillalar (1.6k) —she forges him a blade!!! which is only the most romantic gesture of all time. i’m LIVING for the amount of sneaking around that happens: “All know the Lady of Rohan has a great love for her brother …They do not know that she goes to him at night, walking the halls without a candle, carrying a posset for him, lest she need an excuse.”

In My Darkest Hour by elceri (3k)—Plottier than some of the pornier fics I’ve rounded up here but this conversation is EVERYTHING: “Éomer! The last thing Rohan needs at this time is a martyr!" "I would rather be a martyr than a hypocrite … It will not come to that, my sister, I promise you. My willingness to make the sacrifice does not mean I invite it, or would accept it willingly." "So said Theodred.” ”I am not Theodred." “Then why do you come to me? To prophesy your own death? I am not accustomed to such ominous words from you, brother." "I come to you for strength, Éowyn … Dark have been my days and nights, and dark will they be, and you have been my only light. If I am never to see you again, by that villain's hand, then I want to carry some of that light with me to whatever end may come."

Survivors by CanonIsRelative (1k)—omg they are having messy quickies in the stables??? Éomer and Éowyn have evidently been practicing the pull-out method of contraception up until this one time on the eve of battle and then they’re like fuck it. This is Éowyn’s Return to me victorious: “I await you, my lord, and a year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return. Come back with your helm upon your brow, or resting in state upon your breast.”

Swordplay by elceri (1k)—outsider POV, Théoden and Gríma watch the boys show Éowyn the ropes down in the practice yard: ”She has her brother's talent with the sword—see how quickly she learns!" "If your words are true, Sire, then when she is twenty you will have two strong-willed, hot-headed warriors in your house, aided and abetted by an older cousin who seems to think that life is indeed one long game!"

[heresthestory]

Chapter 1-

The room illuminated, a blush pink glow painted every wall, and glided from the ceiling onto the sleeping girl below. Gathering it’s weight into tiny foot prints, that stepped up from her stomach to her chest, it chose to lie there, gently. Her eyes fluttered open, but the weight swiftly followed, pushing down onto her eyelids with her every attempt to awaken. She slumped over with a roll, trying to push the entity off of her body, but was tackled with a pounce onto her curved spine. The glow pressed its claws deeply into the back of her arms, prickling, scratching until she accepted her defeat. New marks were added to the collection of scars from days and weeks prior, covering her entire body in neon glows. She called them her tiger stripes, but nobody else could see them.

———————————————————————————————————————————

Dew drops raced down the car window, her brown eyes chased each one. Light still hadn’t reached the horizon behind the deathly skeletons of trees and branches that towered over the icy road below. Her glow perched on her shoulder, making whispers in her ear. The voice echoed around the vehicle, yet alarmed nobody else. The closer the destination grew, the more agitated the glow became. Crawling to her lap, it began to clasp her hands, tightening the grip with every breath she took. The pink glow twisted around her body, consuming her until she was drowned under the ocean of light. Just in time for her arrival.

“You must be Aurora” a voice peeped from behind a reception desk.

A rather tall woman appeared from an abyss of a hallway. Diamond blue eyes gazed upon her above silver framed glasses, that were so carefully placed upon the bridge of her nose.

“Follow me through this way” she said as Aurora trailed behind her, her eyes fixed to the ground as the glow held them down. They eventually reached a room, that was light, cold and empty. All that sat there were two blue plastic chairs facing one another. Aurora began to feel hazy, the room smelt clinical yet felt unsafe to her. The pair sat down, uncomfortably taking in each other’s presence. The glow quickly absorbed all that was around them. Leaving the room in a neon paradise. Aurora finally had the strength to look up at the woman, examining her every feature, although it was hard to look past the pink haze she had painted on top of her. Every inch of her was now tinted, from her hooked nose to her sliver slicked hair.

“So, welcome to our facility. We understand that you had a hard time at your last school, and from your notes we already have a pretty good understanding of why you have been referred here. This is your moment for you to tell us anything you’d like us to know before we introduce you to the other students.” There was a pause. Auroras head was once again facing the ground.

“Please don’t be afraid to tell us your story”. The silence continued. She so desperately wanted to speak, but the glows grip was wrapped tightly around her neck , pulling harder and harder with each echoing pulse of her heartbeat. The room began to erupt with ringing, getting louder and louder, the glow was wailing. Aurora clenched her fists until they began to shake. Her eyes tensely stapled shut. The pressure in the room was rising rapidly as the glow squeezed Auroras body, she could not take it much longer.

The woman, seemingly unfazed, guided her out of the room back into the dark hallway. They both stood there for a moment, as the wailing began to quieten. The glow hovered above Auroras head like a mist, settling down from the buzz of the room before.

‘Are you ready to see the rest of the facility?’ She asked.

Aurora quickly but shyly nodded, with her hands glued to under her chin.

Entering another hallway, something strange caught Auroras eye. This hallway was much lighter, modern and well lit. It reminded her of a hospital, which she often had to visit due to an S shaped curve in her spine. She saw her scoliosis as a gift and a curse, as in her last school it was her ticket out of P.E, she wasn’t too sure how well that would go down here. As they approached a door in the distant left hand side of the hallway, a gloomy wave came over them. A sensation so strong Aurora began to drag her body as they walked, feeling like she was carrying a large heavy sack that got harder with every step. And this time, it was not her own glowing entity pulling her behind. A dark cloud of smoke rolled out from under and above the door, squeezing its way through the gaps in the frame. The smoke consumed her head for a moment, making it hard to even process what she was witnessing. Nothing had ever done that before, or even been close to getting through her glow, her shield had been broken. Before her mind had the chance to fathom the experience, she felt a tugging on her hand, as the woman swiftly dragged her away from the mysterious door, and towards another room at the end of hallway. Her thoughts began to clear up as she entered new surroundings, still recovering from the fog in her head. Her brain had to start back up running from 0 to 100 miles per hour, which was a lot for her to process. She slumped down into a beige leather rocking chair in the corner of the room, allowing her body to recover. The new room, slowly began to take shape around her, and her glow once again perched gently onto her shoulder. The walls were a musty orange and yellow, covered with bookshelves. Three sofas sat facing towards the centre coffee table, and a pool table was placed neatly in the corner. It was not much like any school room she had attended before, but she somewhat liked it. The homey feeling she had being sunk into that chair had already eased her worries, but she knew that would change the very moment someone new entered the room.

“Alright, alright Miss” a new voice spoke from the Hallway.

Aurora immediately began to tense up. A glowing shield built up around her in an instant, once again covering the entire room with colour.

A tall skinny figure swung around the door, slinging itself onto the sofa in front of her. Hiding behind her knees, Aurora peeked through them at her new acquaintance. Large black platform boots landed on the coffee table, with one leg crossed over the other. The person in them, was a strange looking character. Head to toe in black rips and chains, with a main of dark shaggy hair that was longer than her own, Aurora was almost mesmerised.

“Aurora this is Ace, they’ve been a student with us for almost a year now” said the woman, standing in the entrance way. Ace gestured a salute to Aurora with an awkward smile.

“And what a fucking year it’s been” Ace muttered under their breath, looking away from the woman with an unpleasant expression.

“Ace is going to be your buddy so to say, they’ll keep you company while you settle into the school. I’m needed upstairs so that’ll give you some time to get to know each other, alright?” And with that the woman was gone, leaving Ace and Aurora in a painful silence.

“Ahem, so I’m uh, loving the pink” Ace said with a chuckle, pointing to the room around them with a twirling finger. Aurora was taken aback, nobody had acknowledged or mentioned it before, or even seemed to see her colourful creations. What made this person not so blind? She had always believed she was crazy, and for a moment, for the first time, maybe she wasn’t.

Before Aurora could say a word, a burst of light spun into the air like an explosion of neon green fireworks, drowning out the pink they were speaking of. A genie-like being erupted from within Ace. She was ethereal, otherworldly. Her skin was minty green, perfectly complimenting her long emerald glowing hair that twirled down to hips. Below that her body dissolved into a tail of floating smoke that swirled around Ace. Despite her beauty, Ace seemed not so pleased to see her.

“Green is more our colour though, don’t you think babe?” She said swimming though the air towards Ace, who was now rather grumpily leaning into their own palm.

“Nobody fucking asked, Lydia” they mumbled back with disinterest.

Aurora was truly stunned, could she be dreaming? Ace had one too. She wasn’t sure what it was, but they both had one. But Ace was, different. There was a whole other person living beside them, a talking, thinking, perhaps breathing person, or woman to be exact. Her mind was spinning as she tried to unravel what was going on before her very eyes. It was starting to make sense why she had been sent here, she was not alone.

[kpersonkwriter]

Perfect Imperfections

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader Oneshot (established relationship AU)

Word Count: 3591

Genre: Mainly fluff, mentions of angst and smut

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of poor mental health and self – harm, mentions of smut, poor body image and low self – esteem, Jin’s dad jokes ofc

A/N: This one is a personal one for me tbh but please remember that the models in magazines do not define what you should look like. Body image is a complex thing but please do not let it define you. You are more than what you look like! If you do have poor mental health or low body self – esteem, please talk to somebody. Whether it a friend, family or teacher please talk. And if you feel you can’t or just need to rant, please don’t hesitate to message me!

Today was the day from hell as far as you were concerned. Your meeting for the group project had been a mess because people hadn’t done their allocated work (honestly, whoever invented group projects was clearly the devil), your retail therapy had left you in tears as you found out the harsh way that you had to go one size bigger to fit into a nice pair of jeans that you had been eyeing for weeks and lastly you had the customers from hell who thought that it’d be a good idea to come in 5 minutes before closing “for a couple of things” then proceeded to walk out half an hour later with nearly £100 worth for a dinner party. To top it all off, your umbrella had broken leading you to walk the 15-minute journey back to your shared apartment with your best friend, who was back at home for reading week.

As soon as you got into your apartment, you huffed as you threw your bag on the floor before changing into one of your boyfriends’ t – shirt which you had not so discreetly stolen two months ago despite promising to give it back. You just so desperately wanted to drink some hot chocolate curled up in your bed whilst binge watching Black Mirror as you walked towards your kitchen, the idea of hot chocolate making the day somewhat better at least. However, staring at the empty contents of your fridge you were reminded that payday was still a week away as you let out a loud groan. You were sure that the day couldn’t be any worse.

“Y/N!” Your saviour had apparently arrived and you couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh as you heard him shut the door behind him.

“Jin?” You peered your head from the doorway to the sight of your boyfriend holding four bags of what you presumed to be food. In the 2 years that you had been dating, you had come to learn that bags that Jin held were of food more often than not.  

“A little help jagi?” He gestured to the both his hand as you rushed to help him.

“What’s all this?” You laughed, leading both of you down the hallway and into your shared kitchen.

“I know that payday isn’t until next week so got you some food since you had to pay for your phone that you broke.” You bit your lip as you remembered what your idiot best friend had done. Namjoon, your loveable friend who was stuck in the depths of Freud with you during Psychology module, had managed to trip up the stars leading to your apartment after you leant him your phone since he had broken it a week prior. He had the guts to bang the door to your room with a sheepish smile as he handed you the smashed content of your phone. “But hey, at least I can add ‘falling up the stairs’ as a skill on my CV” he had grinned. In retaliation you made him buy you a hot chocolate the next day as you both ran to your 9am lecture.

“You are a godsend Kim Seokjin.” You leaned up to kiss him before the pair of you set the bags on the kitchen table. Both had got into your roles, after all it hadn’t been the first time that you two went food shopping before coming back to cook together or ordering take - out.

“Just like my face?” You merely rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin painting your lips after all, dad jokes and cringey one – liners were the norm in your relationship. At first you had hated them, finding them borderline narcissistic and arrogant, yet you had come to love them. They had given you reasons to crack a smile when you had been crying or had annoyingly been the reason as to why you gave in so quickly in forgiving him after a fight. It was over for you when he came delivering those one – liners as well as some plate of food.

You had silently chosen Chinese as you put some food on a plate, taking them in front of the TV, as Jin poured some wine before joining you. He had seemed to just know you needed alcohol tonight, almost being his gift to know how you were feeling. Maybe it was your body language, or maybe it was from a general vibe or possibly subtle changes in expression including the way your eyes just seemed to be down as opposed to lighting up. Whatever it was, it was times like these where you were grateful.

Small talk about your respective days was made as you quietly ate whilst you watched some rubbish reality show on the TV. Jin moaned about his annoying boss – Min Yoongi – saying that it wasn’t his fault that his boss didn’t appreciate his dad jokes and told him to “shut his mouth and get on with the job” or risk being fired. Your boyfriend valued his monthly pay check over dad jokes, albeit begrudgingly. Yet despite his talking and the meaningless background chatter from the TV, the weight of the day came crushing down on you. In fact the past week of rushed assignments, rude customers and just bad luck in general weighed down heavily on you as you picked at your food, taking out the frustrations on the innocent chow mein as you sighed heavily.

Ever the observant boyfriend, he stopped eating as he turned his body towards you, eyebrows creased in worry at your lack of appetite. “Jagi, you ok?”

“Hmm?”

“You ok? I know that you prefer the other place but it’s closed on a Monday so I had no choice but to go this one. If you want something else I could heat up- hey why are you crying?” His hands immediately put both your plates on the mahogany coffee table before enveloping you into a hug, his hand rubbing up and down your back opening the dam of tears even more as they soaked through his dress shirt. He said nothing, the only sound that filled the room being the trashy TV and your now quieting sobs, yet it was perfect, his silence saying everything you needed to hear, his body being enough. His grip on you never loosened as tears began to subside, his shirt probably thanking you as the patch on his chest now clearly damp, white cotton sticking to your boyfriend’s broad chest.

Once your sobs had ended Jin silently went to the kitchen to get you a cup of water before repositioning you on the sofa so that you were now directly opposite him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just this week, it’s been so…”

“Shit?” He offered, a sad smile painting his lips as he looked at you yet he didn’t push. He didn’t prod for more information but just let you nod before you sighed.

“That group meeting I had for the presentation in two weeks?”

“Hmm?”

“None of them did their parts! So I have to stay up a couple of times this week to make sure it’s ready. I had an annoying customer so I had to stay behind to close up and then my umbrella broke on the way home.” You stopped to take an intake of breath, your emotions getting on top of you as you rambled. “Then the jeans that I saw from our date two weeks ago? I couldn’t fit and that was the last one.” You cried, ignoring how trivial your worries seemed in the grand scale of things. But added to the weight of your university work, overbearing parents asking you what your life plans were (people saying that you’d know by your second year were liars. Each and everyone of them), stressing about your lack of student loan which barely covered your rent let alone other bills as well as wondering whether it’d be worth it to do further postgraduate education or just to go into work – everything had piled up. And it was today that the proverbial dam broke. No, it shattered. Yet Seokjin, your perfect boyfriend Jin, smiled as he pulled you to him once again as he gently whispered comforting words into your ear.

“Come with me. I’ve got something to show you.” He whispered, gently dragging you by the hand to the bathroom. You were confused, your bath had broke by a drunken fresher a couple of weeks ago so apart from a few towels, the sink, shower and the body length mirror, you couldn’t fathom why you boyfriend would pull you into it. “Take off your clothes.”

“I’m not up for shower sex today oppa…”

“I’m not! I promise.” He sat on the edge of the sink as he watched you strip, hesitantly albeit as you became more and more self – conscious as more skin showed, inevitably seeing your body despite wanting to avoid looking in the mirror. You were bigger than most, after binge eating when your depression had been at its worst during your teenage years, curves reflecting in the mirror instead of a thin stick figure that graced annoyingly the covers of magazines everywhere. And another thing to notice were the scars that had accompanied your growing figure, a testament to the sudden growth from the hoards of crisps, pizzas and chips (in your defence, unhealthy food shouldn’t taste so good). Your boyfriend, sending small nods of encouragement from his reflection, had been great, stressing that he loved you for your personality, ability to laugh at his always awful dad jokes as well as you volunteering to be his taster for his cooking inventions. He had stressed that he didn’t care about you scars and that you were curvy, instead complimenting you when you wore dresses to dates and saying that they accentuated your curves in the right places. And of course this all continued when you had sex, him taking the time to whisper that you looked amazing, kissing your scars as he marvelled and treated your body like you were some goddess.

Seokjin had walked behind you now that you were naked, aside from your underwear and bra, his hands stopping you from taking them off. His hand rested at your hips as his brown orbs met your in the reflection.

“What do you see Y/N?” He murmured, his breath tickling your neck, your eyes dropping in shame at your reflection, because what you saw was definitely not what your boyfriend saw. Where you saw yourself as big, incomparable to other girls and riddled with scars, a testament to your past and ongoing struggle with mental health, your boyfriend didn’t. The thought that you weren’t good enough for Seokjin had run through your head at lightening speed yet again, as it occupied your mind frequently. He was a hand crafted sculpture with his ridiculously perfect jawline as girls and boys would always comment on his perfect proportions (where was the lie though?). Wherever you walked with him, women would swoon as men would either send him an appreciative glance or daggers, whilst you just held your head down as you silently walked along. It was those times in which that you couldn’t help but think that he was more physically suited for someone who was at least on the same par as him as well. Two years in and it obviously crossed your mind, that breaking up with him would somehow be saving him almost and would save you snide remarks after he would drop you off at campus. And quite frankly, days like this only made you think more seriously about it.

“Jin I-“

“No Y/N, I want you to have a look and tell me what you see.” He gently lifted your head so that you were facing your reflection. You were ashamed, hand instinctively hugging your tummy, as you let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t like it Jin. I just see scars and stretch marks.” You smiled sadly as you met his gaze in the mirror, turning slightly so that you were touching him, just so ready to sink into his embrace but he didn’t let you.

“Oh Y/N… Have you not learnt anything from the last two years?” He sighed, turning your head so you saw yourself in the mirror. “I love all of you.” He knelt down to the floor, never breaking eye contact with you. He kissed your ankle, just a pepper of one, before smiling fondly at you. “I love your ankles, even though you scare me to death with the amount times you roll over them going up the stairs. Not forgetting the way that I love your legs because they look sexy especially in dresses.”

Seokjin’s hands travelled up to the inside of your thighs, you flinching by reflex, slowly and gently caressing your stretch marks. “I love your thighs. You may get jealous of other girls who have a natural thigh gap but I love the way they are. I love that they’re thick because I love that I can warm up my hands in between them during the winter.” Another kiss. “I love that they jiggle.” Another kiss. “And I love it when I run my hands over them when you’re riding me on the sofa whilst we give up on some shitty rom – com. Or when you thigh ride me. Take your pick.” He winked, making you giggle a little, rolling your eyes at his comment along with a slight blush of your cheeks, for said riding had happened less than a week ago. “Hey don’t make me laugh, I’m trying to be serious and romantic here Y/N!” Anyone could tell that it was a light scolding, the crinkle in the corner of his eye showing his true thoughts.

Hands travelling to your ass, grabbing them before placing a kiss one on each cheek.  “Don’t get me started on your ass woman. I’m more of a boob man but wow Y/N.” A small smirk riding his lips as he sent another of his signature winks to you in the mirror. “The way they jiggle when you’re exercising in your leggings that hug you so perfectly. I’ll tell you a secret Y/N – I lie when I say that I have work to do and come into your living room to do it, I just love the view from behind. Especially your squats.” He kissed his fingers like an Italian chef and added a “bellissimo” in his quite frankly awful Italian accent earning a small laugh again, more sincere this time, the effects of his actions immediately having an effect on you.

“Your stomach. And before you start complaining, I love it despite what you think.” His frown was enough to tell you not to interrupt his grand speech and he peppered loads of kisses on your midriff. “You may be bigger than normal but that means you give the best hugs Y/N! I come to yours after a hard day at work because people, especially Min Yoongi, can be a bitch sometimes and I feel so comforted by your hugs. You don’t even have to say anything – it’s a gift! Also, I just love you because you don’t complain about any of the food I cook for you.” He grinned, making eye contact with you again. You were just about to interrupt, wanting to make a point about the time he practically burnt the food but put it down to “enthusiastically crisp” when he shut you up by standing up to give you a small peck on the lips. It was definitely effective for sure. “And the most important thing Y/N – if you’re heavier than average people then it’ll be harder to kidnap you. You can’t leave me Y/N! You’re stuck with me jai.” A peck on the cheeks made you smile again as he went to stand behind you, locking eyes with you again in the mirror.

“And only coming ahead of your ass by a teeny bit is your boobs. You know how I feel about this Y/N… I just love them. I love sleeping on them when I’m ill or tired, I love kissing them and leaving hickeys,” He stopped only to make a point on wriggling his eyebrows. “and I love the way they bounce when you ride me or when I’m on top. I love it when you come home and take your bra off and you sometimes unknowingly let out a sigh because you hate the underwire or when I find you sometimes just holding your boobs like when we watch a film or just whenever.” Your cheeks grew at that, damn your boyfriend for being observant. He kissed them each before his kisses travelled to your neck, breath tickling it.

“Ahhh your neck. I love it when you get flustered in the mornings because you’re either trying to find the right shade of concealer or find a turtleneck top that’ll cover the hickeys that I leave which you make the most adorable moan every time I do. And I’ll never be able to get over the fact that you trust me so much to allow me to press down on your neck slightly during rough sex Y/N. I know that opening up hasn’t been easy for you, and that trust doesn’t come easily, but trusting me to do that is something that I really take to be a privilege and I hope you know that.” A few kisses on your neck punctuated the end of that.

“Now to your face. Hmmm shall we start from your eyes? They say that the eyes are windows to the soul and with you that couldn’t be more truthful with you. Your eyes light up whenever you talk about the disabled kids that you volunteer with or whenever you talk about Tom Holland,” You didn’t miss the roll of his eyes at the latter half of that sentence but then who could resist the friendly neighbourhood Spiderman? “not forgetting when your eyebrows furrow when you concentrate. Then there’s your lips, your glorious lips! They’re plump and kissable which makes it so hard for me Y/N, you don’t understand!” He gave them a peck, leaving you wanting more of course. “Your cheeks! Are so squishable and cute! I love the way they blush even if you don’t because when you do you become the most adorable girlfriend in the world and even more, you’re mine!” His smile was wide enough to light up the universe at this rate. God you really loved Kim Seokjin.

Lastly, as both of his hands held your wrists, you knew what the next thing would be. “I love your wrists because they tell a story about you. Each and every scar that you may hate teach me something about you. To you it shows your struggles, but to me it shows how incredibly strong you are. It shows me that despite it being some of the hardest and darkest years of your life, you are the bravest person I know for seeking help from your university counselling service. Not only that but having the courage to tell your friends and family and then cutting the people out of your life who only laughed at you for it shows you’re putting yourself first for once and that makes me so incredibly happy because after giving so much for others, it’s the least you deserve.” He pauses to see a lone tear falling down your face and only kisses the scars on your wrists, no words being spoken.

“You are my inspiration Y/N. You are the reason that I get up to go to work every morning so that I can save up to spend our future together. Because even though you had a hard past, you came out so much stronger and I will try my damn hardest to make sure that your future is pain – free as possible. I promise Y/N because I love all of you. I love your imperfections and I love your perfections. I love the things that you’re bad at and equally, the things you excel at. Because we’re partners in crime and we do and will complete each other. And if you ever fall back into your dark place and your demons come to haunt you, then we’ll face it together. We’ll go to therapy or if you just need a break from everything then we’ll go away for a week somewhere. Whatever happens I will be with you Y/N and simply because I love all of you.” He took a breath, standing in front of you, in front of your reflection, so that you were facing each other.

“Seokjin, I… I don’t know what to say.” Your tears kept streaming down and sniffles echoed in the bathroom because you really were lucky to have him.

“Then don’t. Just know that I love all of you and that’ll be enough.” He kissed your forehead before pulling you in for a hug.

“Just thank you Seokjin. Thank you for everything.” You whispered, tears soaking his shirt for the second time that night. Yet you felt incredibly happy. You were happy that in despite of everything, you were loved, something that you couldn’t have fathomed years ago. You were so incredibly loved by the man that held you that you knew that you’d face everything together.

“Anything for you.”

“But you really had to mention your jealousy for Tom Holland?”