#it just doesn’t work out well bc he lacks social skills;;;;)

[arrozconlecheeee]

Lately been really thinking about him a lot❄️

[hornithology]

Dick & Bruce role reversal AU

(I am going to write this, but I have two other fics to finish first and this one is gonna be long. but here’s my thoughts:)

Haley's Circus has a permanent station in Gotham as well as a traveling season.

Dick Grayson of the Flying Grayson's watches his parents fall to their death at age ten. in his grief, he tracks down their killer Zucco.

The Court takes him before he can decide what to do, and train him so that he can enact his revenge. The Court begins to brainwash and complete his Talon transformation.

Dick's final test is to assassinate Zucco. whether he does or not, he realizes that killing does not bring justice for his parents and vows to never kill again.

Dick escapes the court (bc he's a genius) and flees the country. for the next 5-8 years, he travels the globe training under masters to become a hero. it's awful, but Dick is fearless and his spirit never fully breaks.

Dick returns to Gotham and Haley's Circus. by day he is on his way to becoming the world's greatest acrobat; by night he takes on the mask and cape of Nightwing and protects Gotham. Dick has precious few resources but does what he can, becoming Gotham's (K)night.

(when he travels with the circus he capes in other cities and meets other heroes.)

Gordon creates a wing symbol instead of a bat symbol.

Joker becomes obsessed with this grinning crusader, who has just as many bad jokes as him.

instead of a batcave there's Nightwing's Roost in the abandoned water tower on Amusement Mile

his greatest nemesis is the Court, which he vows to take down completely some day.

AND THEN

Bruce Wayne watches as his parents are shot to death in crime alley. he’s eight years old.

Bruce tracks down or runs into Nightwing and rages at him for failing to save his parents.

distraught and rebellious, tiny!Bruce keeps running away to the circus on Amusement Mile. he meets Dick Grayson, who seems to be the only person who understands what it’s like to lose your parents like that. Dick always shows him a good time at the circus before returning him to Alfred. Bruce looks up to Dick as much as he hates Nightwing.

when Haley’s leaves for it’s traveling season, Bruce stows away with them!!!! runs away to join the circus!!! ofc he can’t actually stay forever because Alfred has initiated a manhunt for him and it’s ALFRED. but Alfred learns to trust Dick and allows Bruce to train with the circus. or something.

one night Bruce realizes that Dick is injured in the same way he saw Nightwing be injured and realizes they’re the same man :0 drama! angst! Dick agrees to train Bruce, all the better to protect him from the Court.

Nightwing takes the street with Bat, his little shadow. Bruce keeps him focused and dedicated. 

THE DYNAMIC DUO

Bruce (well Alfred) uses his wealth to fund Nightwing. Bruce is a little mechanic genius and designs all sorts of gadgets. Wingarangs. Wingcomputer. Wingcycle. Wingmobile. Dick has been using PAPER FILING for his cases and Bruce gets him a computer and organizes it all himself because Jesus Christ.

Bruce befriends Harvey at Fancy Boy’s School :))))

Nightwing leads the Justice League

Dick wants Bruce to develop his teamwork and leadership skills, so he makes him work with a team of “sidekicks”. Bat becomes the extremely intimidating leader of the Teen Titans. the social skills are lacking.

Bruce has a huge growth spurt and he’s taller than Dick. he can put on muscle like crazy. Dick gets teased by the others at the Justice League but he’s just proud of his protégé.

when Bruce is nearly an adult they have a huge falling out. maybe Dick takes in Jason at Haley’s because Dick is a sucker for strays. maybe he can’t handle that Bruce doesn’t need him anymore, that he can’t protect him. maybe it’s about the Court. Bruce leaves to go solo.

and then, well... a lot of things happen.

[catboyclarity]

okay imma toss you some oc questions lmk if you want more: 1. what characters of yours were/are currently the hardest to write, specifically because you have very little in common with them? 2. I'm curious what kinds of 'smart' the un/bound cast is (like who is booksmart, who is wise, who is more practically smart, who is a clever bastard or a quick thinker)

1. Right now I’m struggling a lot with writing Chase in Un/Bound but that might just be bc I’m struggling to write on it in general and he happens to be there. I also don’t LIKE writing Roman very much bc I don’t like him, but its not exactly hard.

I don’t tend to have trouble with writing characters as a whole, mainly specific scenes. And most of my struggle with characters comes from not having a good handle on them rather than lack of commonality—Illeni was hard to write bc of how underdeveloped he ended up being. I think if he’d been a MC he would have been easier on me. That’s probably also why I’m having trouble with Chase; he fills a similar niche as Illeni (missing family member).

2.

Moira is very practically intelligent and excellent in a crisis, good problem solver, but isn’t that emotionally/socially intelligent—particularly toward her own feelings and needs. Nicky is clever and analytical but a little less good in actual stressful situations. Emotional intelligence-wise they have a lot of therapeutic knowledge they can regurgitate but haven’t fully internalized, which leads them to be good at comforting and stabilizing others but their interpersonal relationships and health are mega-fucked.

Iseul is a sheltered autistic 15 year old is knowledgeable and good at a few select things but is not-so-smart about a lot of others—which is normal, they are a kid—and a willingness to learn+general desire to be good to people but not so great social skills (HARDCORE oversharer. Leigh is primarily booksmart and emotionally aware in the way longterm abuse victims tend to be, which is to say she picks up on very minor emotional signals and goes into panic mode over them, which almost never works. Leigh is not stupid at all but she is deeply deeply traumatized and has not been given appropriate treatment or safe relationships to heal from that and so her sense of self is really out of whack in a way that causes her to struggle with almost everything.

Pan knows a lot about many things due to being one of the oldest sentient beings and is great at manipulating people but vulnerable to manipulation himself and really simple in terms of his wants and goals—he has never tried to solve a problem in his life. Argent is incredibly emotionally intelligent when it comes to other people and then treats his own well-being like it doesn’t exist.

[edoro]

thinking SO hard about that “Babybel gets transported outside of his own mindscape with Luz and Hunter and ends up stuck in six year old form” concept

i want him to have adult Belos’s memories and knowledge but he’s physically occupying the body and brain of a small child so like his cognitive development level is really lagging behind what he’s used to (which wasn’t a problem in the mindscape where it runs on dream rules, but unfortunately,)

he’s scheming but he’s also having a hard fucking time because like you will never. ever convince me. that Philip Wittebane is not a deeply traumatized man. all rectangles are not squares but all squares are rectangles and brother? this is one developmentally disrupted square.

so anyway he’s got four hundred years of being fucked up and evil crammed into a six year old brain and he’s furious and terrified and overwhelmed and going to get put in shitty mindbaby jail for sure.

serenely choosing to interpret the fact that he never said anything in Babybel form but then immediately would not shut up in Belos form is because he was nonverbal for a very long time in childhood* and therefore, not possessing several centuries’ worth of verbal communication workarounds**, he can’t talk to anyone in the Owl House

they give him a big sketchbook and a bunch of colored pencils and markers, because if there’s one thing the Owl House has in abundance it’s craft supplies

he spends a while being profoundly frustrated by six year old motor skills and total lack of most of the artistic muscle memory he’s used to but starts to work something out that doesn’t totally disgust him

i just want him to without really thinking draw a familiar face, look at it, and get hit with 400 years of missing (and recreating and raising and programming and using and being betrayed again by and murdering) Caleb but, and this is the crucial part, with the emotional and cognitive capacity of a six year old

and burst into furious tears

(*people were not, i think, kind about this)

(**actually there are a couple of notable occasions as Belos where he gets confronted with something he clearly doesn’t have either a preplanned speech or a well-oiled social script to respond to and just. does not say anything.)

(***edited this post to link to the post that first outlined this concept bc it was not in fact me! they also deserve some love for it)

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This type of mission has never been his. 

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

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

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

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

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

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

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

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

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

And then he’s off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three days. 

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is not sure if he believes you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

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

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

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

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

And then he’s thinking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now. 

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

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

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

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to be like you. 

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

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

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

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

He wants to remain beside you. 

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

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

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

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

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

So he spills it all out to you. 

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

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

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

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

Instead he sits in silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day drags on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

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

Your face burns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sheer and utter adoration. 

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

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

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

And Jungkook does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ends too soon.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

Hi!! I’m new to the Haikyuu fandom but Kageyama is my favorite so far!! Can you do numbers 20 and 24 with him please? Thank you in advance! 🧡🖤

Haikyuu!! Prompt list trial

HQ!! Prompt list

Thanks for requesting! I’m also fairly new to the Haikyuu fandom <3

The other requests are in the works, they might just take a bit longer bc I’m swamped with school stuff! Happy reading :D

Words: 2400+

Warnings: possible weight trigger?, Kags calls you heavy 😔

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x FEM!reader

Prompt(s): 20- "I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" & 24- "don't leave me here with her/them!"

The mind of Kageyama was mostly a mystery; his skull hollow with a few volleyballs bouncing around. He wasn't the smartest to say the least— Have you seen his report card?

So, when his heart pumped 10x faster than when he was on the court when he was around you, he only thought he wasn't feeling well that day. Next was his voice; constantly stuttering for no apparent reason when he was chatting with you. Kageyama had not a clue what was going on with him until Tanaka spoke up for him, asking how long Kageyama was going to wait before asking you out. The boy in question just wrinkled his nose and went to toss another ball to an energetic redhead.

Nishinoya and Tanaka cornered the unsuspecting setter in the club room, trapping him with their looming auras. Kageyama only stared at them quizzically for a moment before a phone was shoved in his face.

"Look, dude, check out this article!" Tanaka grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about volleyball?" Kageyama asked as he threw on his uniform.

"No—"

"—don't wanna look at it then," Kageyama interrupted his upperclassmen, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"C'mon bro!" Argued Nishinoya, blocking the door with pure physics, clinging to the frame, "we just wanna help you get with y/n! This Wiki article will save you from your lack of social awareness around her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kageyama mumbled, glancing at the phone pointed at him. It was titled: 'How to Flirt with Girls'. Now, he wasn't necessarily considering reading it, but it was tempting. "Why d'you want me to flirt with y/n? She's my friend."

"She's your crush is what she is. Are you really too dense to realize your feelings?" Tanaka said. "Actually- yeah. You are. Here, I'll text you the link."

Later that night when Kageyama was trying to sleep, his mind wandered in circles thinking about his feelings towards you. He didn't think he had time to develop a crush, but here he was pulling up his phone to check the link his upperclassman sent him. He squinted at the bright WikiHow screen, and scrolled down to read the captions. He glanced at the first three options, not really reading (or caring) about 'don't forget to smile!' and 'don't cross your arms'.

The only title that caught his eye was 'Tease Her'. Kageyama knew how to do that; it was easy. He did it with Hinata all the time! He blushed just thinking about making you flustered, a wish that he didn't know he had until tonight. He didn't bother with reading the rest of the article, feeling confident in himself that he knew what to do. He threw his phone back onto his nightstand and cuddled into his bedsheets, grinning wildly.

Tobio didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Tanaka and Nishinoya about the skill of teasing. He had only wanted a few pointers from the 'pros', and some advice on what to do after you were charmed by him.

"Oh ho ho!" Tanaka said excitedly, waving his hands around as he ranted. "Make sure to insult her playfully, but always tell her how beautiful she is afterwards! Oh, and don't forget about the lingering touches! Girls love that stuff, trust me."

Kageyama nodded along, turning to Nishinoya, "don't forget to smile! Girls love sweet smiles~."

The raven haired boy was practically buzzing with anticipation as he waited at the table he usually ate at with you, desperate to try out his new flirting techniques. He smiled at you, something he usually did but he tried making it brighter. He felt his chest bubble when you raised your eyebrows at him, giving a cute smile in return.

You were wondering what the hell was up with Kageyama. You knew he wasn't the best at smiling, but when he flashed his teeth it was just downright creepy. You tried not to laugh as you sat beside him, pulling out your lunch to sit on the table in front of you. A huff left your lips as Tobio snatched away your bento, raising it above his head with a playful smirk.

"Kageyama-kun," you raised a brow playfully. "You want me to starve or something?"

"Just watching your weight," he replied, grin still plastered on his face.

You deadpanned at him, giving him a scowl, "don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like shit."

"You're still p-pr-er, P-p-pretty in my eyes," your friend stammered, his stance wavering. You lazily tried to grab your lunch back, but Tobio's long arms kept it out of your reach.

You sighed, giving him a teasing grin before reaching out and tickling his armpit. He choked out a laugh and your bento fell out of his hand, and you caught it. Kageyama gave you a frustrated pout and watched as you ate your food.

"Serves you right for calling me fat," you said through a mouthful, cringing at your manners, "that wasn't very nice."

"You're only heavy because of your muscle," Kageyama said, propping a fist on his cheek, "you'd be good at serving." You looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what was up with him today.

"Y-your clothes look cool today," Tobio offered, trying to keep up with his 'flirtatious' act.

"... dude I literally wear the same thing every day. Y'know, my uniform," now you were really confused. Was he messing with you? Or was he just being his usual weird self?

A blush creeped onto his face and he looked away, burring his face in his own lunch. You ate in an odd silence, occasionally catching Kageyama taking glances at you.

"Y-you're, erm, very..." Tobio trailed off, refusing to look at you. His face was red with embarrassment and he stared at his empty lunchbox, tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically.

"Go on~," you pressed, glaring holes in his head.

Kageyama perked up suddenly, putting an arm around your shoulders, "you look heavy, let me hold it for you. Wait—."

"Ok, dude. What's up with you?!" You were getting pissed now, and you quickly packed up your bento. "I'm going to my class early."

Before he could stop you, you peeled his arm from your body and sped walked away into a bathroom. Kageyama blushed in frustration, cursing at his stupid twisted tongue. He couldn't believe he messed up the simplest pick up line, the one that Nishinoya had taught him. Maybe Tsukishima was right, he was going to scare you off before he could make a proper move. He groaned angrily into his hands and shoved his lunch container into his bag, huffing down the hall to get to his class.

You sunk down into your seat, trying not to let the interaction with Kageyama rule your mind. Was was up with him today? You thought. He was usually odd, but not this odd. You laid out your things in front of you and organized them to distract yourself. You slightly jumped at the sound of the first bell, and you heard the hallway outside start to get louder with footsteps and laughing chatter.

"Hi y/n-san!" Yamaguchi said, and you looked up at him.

"Hey," you mumbled.

"What's got you all grouchy?" Tsukishima chuckled as he sat by his desk beside yours.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, "Kageyama-kun was just being a dick during lunch."

"What'd he do?" Yamaguchi asked, sitting in his seat behind you. He gathered his notebook and pencil case.

"He was being really weird. Er, weirder than normal," you started. "He tried holding me back from my lunch and he basically called me fat. But then he said I was heavy because I had so much muscle? Which doesn't even make sense, and then he said I'd be good at setting which is— I mean ok?"

Tsukishima snickered from beside you as he opened his binder, and Yamaguchi blushed a little at his teammate's actions.

"And then he told me that my clothes looked nice. My uniform clothes, that I wear every day," you puzzled almost to yourself, forgetting that your friends were listening to your rant. "Oh, he also said like, I dunno, a pickup line or something? He said that 'I looked heavy and he wanted to hold 'it'' whatever the hell he was supposed to mean by that."

Tsukki had to shove a hand over his mouth to keep himself from combusting into boisterous laughter, Yamaguchi doing the same. You frowned and rolled your eyes, turning to look at the board as the second bell rang.

"The idiot's got a crush on you," Tsukishima spilled, chest shaking from the aftershocks of his laughter.

"W-wha—," you started.

"—Tsukki!" Yamaguchi interrupted. "You told me that you weren't gonna mess with Kageyama-kun's relationships!"

Tsukishima just shrugged before turning to the board, your eyes bulging at him. "He fucking what—."

"I know!" Tsukishima smirked, "I didn't think he had any emotion for anything but volleyball."

You opened your mouth to reply, but got cut off by your teacher. You frowned as you set up your notes, messily writing your name and the date. Kageyama's actions now made sense to you, knowing how awkward he is in expressing his feelings.

After class as you walked down the hall, Tsukishima sported a sly grin. You eyed him quizzically, not trusting the look in his eyes. He smirked harder at your glance and chuckled.

"I have a plan," the blonde said, pushing up his glasses. "I'm gonna shove Kageyama in the equipment room with you."

"And so I get a say in this at all?" You pressed, glaring playfully at him.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked.

"I say yes," you said, Yamaguchi facepalming at your response.

You followed the two boys down to the gym where they practiced, and waited by the door until Yamaguchi gave you the clear that no one was there yet except for the third years. Tsukishima led you to the double doors of the equipment room and you took a step inside the dark room, turning on your flashlight.

"If you hear an even three knocks, open the door immediately," you ordered, shaking slightly. "Incase he does something... weird," you faltered slightly, and Yamaguchi nodded quickly.

"Whatever," the tall blonde in front of you said, "just get in before he comes in the gym— oh, he's here."

The door was closed suddenly, and you were left alone with only your phone flashlight to protect you. You took a deep breath as you heard voices outside the heavy doors, trying to regulate your heartbeat. What were you doing? What was your plan after he gets trapped inside? The doors opened and filled the room with light for a brief moment before the space was consumed in darkness once again.

"Hey!" You heard Kageyama yell beside you, pounding on the door, "what the hell?!"

You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and he whipped around to slap you away, faltering when he realized it was you. His eyes widened and he was glad you couldn't see the blush that flourished on his face. Kageyama was silent for a few moments before hammering at the door again.

"Guys! Don't leave me here with her!" He panicked when you pulled his hands away from the doors, and he went quiet.

"Calm down, Kageyama-kun," you stifled a giggle. "You're only here so you can apologize to me."

"W-what?" He stuttered, body going stiff.

"Just say sorry for offending me," you shrugged. His eyes were glued to the floor, hands still trapped by your grip.

"I- I thought... I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" Kageyama's blush crawled across his whole face all the way to the tips of his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of what your next words were going to be.

"So you do have a crush on me," you pondered, loosening your hold on his wrists. The boy in front of you snapped his hands to his sides and anxiously squeezed his fists.

"How...?" Kageyama held his breath, as if afraid of your answer.

"Hmm, a little birdie told me~," you teased, running a finger down his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and a shiver ran down his spine when he felt your hot breath whisper onto his ear, "I'm still waiting for your apology."

"I'm s-sor-sorry for what I s-said at lunch today..." Kageyama stammered, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

"I accept your apology!" You smiled and went in for a hug, crushing his arms to his sides. "Meet me after practice near the vending machines~," you murmured playfully.

"—what are you guys doing?!" Daichi's muffled yell came through the door. "You can't just trap people in there!"

Kageyama tensed and he tried to pull away, but you held him closer. The bright light from the gym poured into the small room, illuminating all of the equipment and yourselves.

"Are you oka— oh," Daichi cut himself off, eyes widening at the sight of a girl hugging his underclassman. You peaked at him over Kageyama's shoulder and gave a shy smile, pulling away slowly.

"Bye, Tobio-chan," you adjusted your bag and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you after your practice."

The group of boys watched in silence as you skipped your way out the gym door, too shocked to say anything. Kageyama's face grew hotter and he reached up to touch where you kissed him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"Kageyamaaaaa!!" Hinata yelled, shaking his friend viciously, "was that your girlfriend?! Why didn't you tell us you had one?! She's so pretty! Why does she even like you?!"

"Chill out Hinata-kun," Daichi said sternly, pulling the redhead away by the back of his shirt. "Kageyama-kun, be ready for practice in five."

Tobio nodded slowly, his hand still on his cheek in bewilderment. He was too excited to tell Hinata off, completely blocking out his friend. He couldn't wait for practice to end.

[spidersbane]

Hello! Can I get MCU, The Hobbit, and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. ship? 💚

Appearance: She/her. 179,5cm tall, rectangle body shape. Fair skin complexion with quite a few birthmarks. Dyed brown with honey-red highlights, shoulder-length, straight hair with bangs. The left eye is a mix of two colors – a smaller portion of (darker) greyish-blue and a larger portion of hazel; while the right eye is just a (lighter) greyish-blue. Heptagon face shape with two dimples on the left cheek and one on the right cheek (only visible while smiling). A gap between the upper front teeth.

Personality (good and bad traits): Ever since I was a kid, I was always quite mature for my age – I identify myself as an old soul. I come off as polite and well-mannered to strangers, yet I tend to keep it to myself by being reserved. But, that’s because I have social anxiety and I’m nervous and shy when meeting/talking to people. The only people I’m comfortable with being with my inner circle – closest friends and family. I am usually more “open” with my friends than with my family. With my friends I can be my “truest-self” – I smile more, I laugh more, I feel more accepted and understood. I am the mom and the fashionista of the group. Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely protective of my family, especially of my mother and younger sister. But, lately, I’ve been feeling like the “black sheep” of the family, Cinderella who’s been taken advantage of. I express my affection for the people I care about in little, but practical, ways. I can be a little stiff when it comes to open, gushy displays of affection. Others turn to me for help and advice. I’m kind-hearted and generous, always ready to help a person in need. Always have been motherly towards children. Very awkward at keeping small talk (usually with people that I’m not that close with). Absolutely, hate speaking in front of a public, and if I do, because of my nervousness, I tend to mess up my words and/or I practice whatever I’m about to say in my head at first. I appreciate the simplicity and am often most comfortable when I’m not getting too much attention from the world. I am sensitive – both to criticism and to others’ feelings (I sponge up the feelings and moods of people and the environment around me). Have a hard time saying no or expressing my true thoughts, feelings. I get influenced by other people’s opinions/thoughts quite hard (I take everything to the heart), that is why I tend to keep a lot to myself (may come off as a little bit tense, secretive, mysterious). I avoid the harsh reality by daydreaming (almost every day) – imagining myself in situations far from my current circumstances. Sort of like a self-escape. I worry a lot and overthink almost everything. I am easily distracted and my attention span can be quite short. I have an internal struggle between my needs and wants. I can lack focus and be indecisive as a result – when I decide on one route, I am pulled in another direction at the same time (“But what if…”, “on the other hand...”). That is why I’m having a bit of a struggle with deciding what I want to do in the future (career-wise). I am easily overwhelmed by pressure and stress. There is a self-destructive side to me (self-critical, lack of self-confidence) that I’m working on by confronting my fears (coming out of my shell). Don’t like taking pictures, or other people taking pictures of me. I feel most content when I’ve straightened out all the details of everyday life. I have a routine, that I follow by mostly every day, and if something small changes in that routine, I start to have a small internal anxiety attack. Also, I like to do things my own way, like, when it comes to cleaning the house or organizing stuff, etc. I get triggered even if people don’t do the laundry the way I do. I guess you could describe me as a perfectionist, clean/control freak. In triggering situations I can be impulsive, spontaneous, quick to act. Quick flare-ups of anger/annoyance when being provoked on my patience. Even when I’m feeling low, I manage to find humor in life and have fun with whatever I do have. Although I tend to bottle things up, I am an emotional person and my emotions are genuine – I love and care deeply and passionately and wish no ill will upon anyone, yet it hards for me to imagine someone falling in love with me or just liking me.

Hobbies, likes: My hobbies are cleaning, writing (re-writing song lyrics, making small notes, writing stories), listening to any type of music, catching up on my favorite films and TV shows, hanging out with friends, going to the cinema, or the club, being out in nature, reading, traveling. I like history, cooking, fashion magazines (or fashion in general), road trips, spirituality, mythology, books, orange juice, previous decades, cottage-core, dark academia.

Overall: Hufflepuff. INFP-T. Bi-sexual. Pisces-Aries cusp sign. “Looks like could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll.” A feminist, support LGBTQ+ community. That’s it, thank you!

hey @pataim ! thanks so much for sending in your request, and thank you so much for your honesty about yourself. like it takes a lot to air yourself out like that, and I admire your strength for it. but also fINALLY a 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' ship! I love that movie and attempt Illya's accent all the time, so this will be fun :)

For the MCU/Marvel - I ship you with Steve Rogers/Captain America ! 

no one can tell me that Steve doesn’t have a set routine honestly, so let me just get that out there 

he seems intimidating at first, esp as a public figure and Avenger, but Steve is nothing but passionate about what he does. so it may clash w your lack of direction, but I could honestly see him envying that a lil bit, like it’s not that you don’t have direction, it’s the fact that you still have a choice in the matter. 

your love of history put you in a museum, here you bumped into Steve in a horrible disguise. he struck up the conversation first, and once you got past the whole “holy crap that’s Captain America”, you could actually engage with him in the material and boi was he smitten 

he would love to join you when your rewatched your fave things, bc not only is he catching up on more media he missed out on, he’s also getting to know your interests in a way that’s comfortable with you. it avoids all the small talk, but leaves room for discussion after the film/show ! 

since you tend to sponge up a lot of what other people believe, it’s totally Steve who actually tries to question what you think and what you feel about things. he’s someone who encourages you to have your own opinions and to stay true to those thoughts. so while with him, you can rely on him to learn about yourself, you also gain skills for independence

overall, Steve is super patient, and despite his chaotic job as Cap, he takes comfort in his routine, and would find comfort incorporating a partner’s routine into his life. and as you grow in a relationship with him, he’s patient about teaching you how to be your own person, and helping you learn more about yourself. and while it’s uncomfortable, you grow stronger throughout being with him :) 

For The Hobbit - I ship you with Bilbo Baggins !

Bilbo is the definition of introvert, and you're right there with him

not that introversion is ever a bad thing, bc it isn't. but Bilbo is quite content to sit in his little hobbit hole and vibe. like Gandalf had to come find him, ya know. dude disappeared from his own bday.

but anyways. it's not that Bilbo lacks purpose, it's just that he's more content with a quieter life. and it seems like his quiet life would balance you out well! like the Shire is so so chill, and there doesn't really seem to be a lot of pressure on the hobbits to pick a profession. like they just genuinely do what needs to get done.

similarly, Bilbo is the type who seems a little bothered by mushy displays of affection. exhibit a: disappearing from his own bday. like he's much more the type to refill your tea when y'all are reading by the fireplace, which he would totally do w you

it will probs take you a little while to warm up to each, given just how introverted you both are. but when he explains that he has set ways of doing things, then if they're compatible w your ways of doing things, then it doesn't take you long to open up to him

like it'll be a little jarring, but he takes comfort in his routines too. and it'll be an event trying to incorporate both of your ways of life together, but he's willing to do it

overall, yours is a very quaint partnership, built on deep respect for one another. neither of you are going to push the other to do things you aren't into. and y'all just live your best lives together tbh :)

For The Man From U.N.C.L.E - I ship you with Illya Kuryakin !

I love my big Russian spy so much, so this is fun for me

so Illya is the epitome of reserved and generally quiet, so it might take a while to really break down his walls and talk to him. and he's not quite sure what to do with you once you join the team

but, he's playing his game of chess alone, and when you sit down and ask to play with him, he opens up a little more after that

if you're one who get sent out on mission with the team, get ready, bc sometimes those missions require a lot of improvising. but you'd probably be at whatever 'base' was, helping run operations from a more secure place. but Illya and Napoleon improvise a lot, leading to a lot of headaches for you and Waverly

Illya has small bursts of anger, but similar to Gaby, most times, you can intervene and he doesn't get violent. or when he does, he tries to make sure it isn't in front of you. but bc you care so deeply for him, you're there for him in the aftermath. and that's how you show your love for him.

by patching him up if he gets cut, by talking him down when he's angry. and just generally trying to take care of him. and he totally does the same for you, especially if you get sent out into the field

and much to Illya's dismay, Solo doesn't refrain form making jokes about you. but if you can take them in stride, then Solo welcomes you into the team just as well :)

[rainbowrider1290]

Part 3 of my take on a genshin impact circus AU: Bennett, Fischl, and Razor as a beast-taming trio. Backstory under the cut.

Benny:

Bennett was adopted into a research team of zoologists (what in canon would be the adventurer’s guild). The ones that go out into the world and get their hands dirty in studying animals. He loved interacting with the animals, and though research was interesting, he always spent more time with the animal caretakers and vets than with the researchers so he’s extremely acquainted with their habits, how to feed them, when to keep them in captivity versus the wild, and how to regulate their environment properly when in captivity. He has this knack for interacting with them, even the big ones.

As for how he got into the circus: Well first off he got wind of how poorly these animals are treated in some circuses and got into the circuses for the caretaking purposes. He would hop from circus to circus to take care of the animals and show the performers how to Not Harm Them (like tigers jumping through hoops on fire??? Nuh-uh. Whips, tight collars, and muzzles? We don’t do that here). He certifies himself as a vet after a while of this.

More time passes and he realizes this is a bigger problem than can be solved by himself. He’s been kicked out of a few places and for a while had terrible luck finding work because some of his previous employers didn’t want to spend the extra resources on animal care (lacking funds and lacking planning for it) and spread word of a legal liability of a vet.

Aether and Lumine catch word of this and track him down to a little animal clinic where he works as an intern. They offer him a spot in their circus bc they’ve been wanting to introduce animals into the mix but want to plan correctly (like how many animals they can support properly). Long story short, Bennett gets into the circus and works with Yanfei to actually become a legal liability to the circuses not treating animals correctly, and he himself will take as many of those animals as he can into his corner of the circus and send the rest to his dads (since circus animals tend to be rare breeds and his dads have a branch of research on captive animals). And finally he can take care of his animals and show the world that you don’t have to harm animals for a good show. Mostly big ones like elephants, big cats, and camels.

He’ll do shows more like synchronizing movements between the animals and tricks like they do with marine animals. They do have cages for transport but they’re spacious and they take frequent breaks for physical activity. Benny will only take the animals that have been domesticated their whole lives and will send the ones fit to live in the wild to his dads to set free.

Fischl:

Fischl was born into the circus life and was that kid who would stop people from killing bugs, take them in a glass container, and set them outside. She regularly patches up the birds with broken wings she finds outside.

Def spent more time outside hanging with the birds than with the people in the circus, since birds aren’t technically a circus animal. Oz is an old old vulture (or falcon, I haven’t decided yet. If anyone can pinpoint his species please let me know) that has taken a liking to Fischl and so no matter where her circus goes, she sees Oz there to hang and bring her injured birds.

She once asked if birds could be circus animals and was told that they tried but it didn’t work out. She gets into reading the obscure materials on birds as circus animals and deduces that they just weren’t taking care of them right. She brings up this idea to the circus manager and essentially gets the door slammed in her face. The last time she asks about it, it’s to her parents and is told to find something realistic to do in the circus and forget about the birds.

From then she sees all the other kids her age in the circus training to be in the show in some way or another and hears what they say about her “head in the clouds”. So she starts training with different branches of the circus (gymnastics-based, death-defying stunts, fire, etc.) and she... genuinely considers leaving to pursue another profession.

Then as her circus is about to get on the road, she catches wind of a circus performing in the town they’re just about to leave. One that uses animals, and since her circus never used animals due to lacking funding, she goes for a night out of curiosity and on the off-chance that they use birds. She noticed that this wasn’t anything like she’d heard about or read about circus animals, so she sends them a letter addressed to the person running the animal part of the show asking about birds in the circus.

Benny’s response boils down to “well it’d be a little complicated but what’d you have in mind?” so they start exchanging letters and the next time the two circuses are near each other, she goes on over and brings all her letters after a show and sees how gentle Bennett is with the animals. They get to talking and Benny takes her to meet the animals, telling her about how he does things while she tells him about how she’d go about introducing birds to a circus.

Aether and Lumine hear about this and before she knows it, Fischl’s being told to get her birds ready, she has an audition in a month (spoiler alert: she passes). Her act is made up of all kinds of birds. Very few of them are housed on the circus for very long since she’s never liked the idea of birds in cages. The birds she uses are all the injured ones in the process of rehabilitation brought to her by Oz. She also keeps the ones that won’t fly again or never learned to find food despite her and Oz doing their best to socialize them. Those that don’t perform are excellent at taking care of the newbies and overall helping Fischl out. 

At any given point she’ll be seen with about 3-5 birds of different sizes on her and she’ll always smell a bit like worms and seeds of various kinds. She expands on her first-aid abilities from watching Bennett, and in turn offers knowledge on birds and how to deal with smaller animals with different bone structures, metabolisms, and cardiovascular systems.

Razor:

Razor’s story is a lot simpler. Backstory is essentially the same as in canon, except he doesn’t meet Lisa right away, and spends a little more time with Varka learning to read and write at the most basic level and fight hand-to-hand. Instead of an abyss mage attacking them, it’s a group of hunters. During this fight, a lot of the wolves are gravely injured but he takes one of them and runs into town looking for help.

After a show, Bennett and Fischl are on their way to see Bennett’s dads to take some birds that can’t handle the circus life but also aren’t fit to be free. They happen to be in the town where Bennett trained to be a vet and they stop by the clinic to say hello. Inside they see a boy dressed in rags and covered in dirt cradling an unconscious wolf pup, trying to get the attention of one of the clerks. One of the clerks tries to help him but the communication barrier is not helping them and the boy seems distressed on top of that, pointing and growling with the word “help” thrown in here and there, so Bennett steps in bc he knows some of these people in the clinic.

Bennett comes in and he and Fischl follow him out to where the rest of the pack is. Fischl brings her birds bc they’re her babies in case anyone was wondering. They perform first aid the best they can given the conditions, and manage to save a good chunk of the wolves, but a good chunk of them still die.

The pack splits up into two. On the one hand, the older wolves take whoever’s still alive and resume their activities in the forest. On the other, Razor has this opportunity to go and find out whether he’s a human or a wolf, and the little wolf pup he brought to the clinic goes with him because she’s too injured to go with the others. Same for a few other wolves.

So they go and the only place they have to stay is the circus bc Bennett and Fischl want to monitor the wolves a little more, so they spend the night. Next morning, Razor gives Fischl and Bennett a basket of meat, berries, and seeds to feed their respective animals and they realize Razor has some valuable skills, so he ends up staying upon receiving the OK from Lumine and Aether and telling Lisa and Ningguang for administrative purposes.

Because wolves inherently do not do well with loud noises and circus settings, Razor is very off-put by the idea of performance. Not to mention that he himself probs wouldn’t feel comfortable in the performance setting, so he sticks to the background (even learning the basics of tech) and gets really good at gathering resources from food for the animals to helping Oz bring back injured birds and track other injured animals. He and Oz interact a lot, which helps his friendship with Fischl as he was initially closer to Bennett.

His relationship with Lisa after a while can be summarized as “focus up you little monsters. not you Razor. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here”

[gyeheoni]

Get to Know Me Tag!

Tagged by @catboydongheon and @a-drawingpanda​ ! (thank you both so much for the tag ^~^ ! lovelies 🥺💗💗💗 !) 

What day is your birthday? ... a day ... 

What is your favorite color? rose quartz, serenity, and lilac ^~^ 

What’s your lucky number? huh ... none ig ? ;0 

Do you have any pets? does a younger brother count ... no lol 

How tall are you? 163cm :0 woozi height ^^

How many pairs of shoes do you own? like ... 2 lmao 

Favorite song? hhh never have just one but rn it’s the whole sour album annnd blue hour by txt ^^

Favorite movie? don’t watch movies enough to have one either fjkhgdfkjg

Who would be your ideal partner? ??? who wrote these ... juhaknyeon 

Do you want children? lmao no

Have you ever got in trouble with the law? no ...? 

Baths or showers? showers ^^

What color socks are you wearing? it’s summer <3 no socks season 

What type of music do you like? mostly pop music :0 but some r&b and a bunch of other stuff too :]]

How many pillows do you sleep with? 4 lol (technically six but...) 

What position do you usually sleep in? on my side usually >.< and only on one half of the bed haha

What do you typically have for breakfast? never wake up early enough for breakfast so ... 

Have you ever tried archery? yes at science camp ^^

Favorite fruit? *hoyoung voice* strawberries and ... watermelon (and mangoes and grapes too ^^) 

Favorite swear word? i don’t really curse so T-T 

Do you have any scars? :// i guess 

Are you a good liar? probably not, even tho i do it often 

What is your personality type? ISFP-T

What is your favorite type of girls? odd question, but all of them u.u obviously  

Are you an innie or an outie? innie LMAO

Left or right handed? right 

Favorite food? pasta ! annnd uh ... this one hk cafe specialty item that would take too long to describe 

Favorite foreign food? ?????? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh idk but i have tried a lot of different asian foods (since that’s primarily what i have everyday) so ?? fjgdkfjgh

Are you a clean or messy person? depends on how i’m feeling fjghdfjkhgdkj

Most used phrase? probably ‘so true’ / ‘too true’ i h8 what the internet has rendered my vocabulary down to lmao 

How long does it take for you to get ready? also depends on how i’m feeling could be 5 mins could be an hour 

Do you talk to yourself? yes helps physically vocalizing some of my feelings sometimes rip .... 

Do you sing to yourself? oh a lot jfkgdfg choir kid things ....

Are you a good singer? prob avg ? i tried out for chamber choir in hs and got in and also get compliments here and there but tbh i lack a lot of technical skills / talent i think at best i just have a good ear for pitch matching 

Biggest Fear? [insert a long essay about insecurities etc.] idk bugs ? 

Are you a gossip? depends on context ! some things i’m nosy about and some things i am not 

Do you like long or short hair? on me ? personally long hair ^^ 

Favorite school subject? biology is neat ^^ i also really liked digital art although i lack creativity lol

Extrovert or Introvert? i’m an introvert at the end of the day, my social battery is tinie ... 

What makes you nervous? everything ? ig LOL perks of overthinking too much and having anx13ty <333 

Who was your first real crush? oh there was this boy who lived two floors down from my apartment and he came knocking on my door asking to hang out ;;;; and we played basketball and went down to the creek by the nature trail and splashed each other with water ... didn’t end well lmao but it sounds nice like that doesn’t it ? 

How many piercings do you have? two ;0

How fast can you run? in peak PE days i could do a mile in eight minutes but now running a block makes me want to pass out so LMAO

What color is your hair? technically black hair is not a thing so reeeeally dark brown almost black at my roots and reddish brown bc i dyed my hair <3 really wanna redye my hair tho ;;;;;;;;;;;;; 

What color are your eyes? dark brown <3 

What makes you angry? i don’t get angry often actually ;;;; i have a lot of patience rather than angry i can get frustrated when smth i tried really hard at doesn’t work out or if people are being inconsiderate i tend to overthink a lot, so when other people are careless about their actions that makes me a bit upset 

Do you like your own name? not really ? it doesn’t hold any meaning but as a name it’s just a name :// nothing good or bad ig 

Do you want a boy a girl for a child? what is this the 20th century .... 

What are your strengths? oh boy wish i knew / had any 

What are your weaknesses? oh boy what isn’t 

Color of your bedspread? it’s white with blue ink drawings <333 pretty and my aes ^^

Color of your room? like a dark biege <333 neutral tones my beloved <333 

thank you both again for tagging me !!! many hearts <333 prob won’t tag anyone >.< no fun maybe but idk who to tag :,3

[lightskinrry]

I got ADHD. So I’m sorry I g distracted and this is all over the place buttt here’s my astrology read on Harry with the new Leo rising assumption. Sorry this is long as hell and literally just how I read him it’s for entertainment and it ain’t that serious so don’t be acting crazy or getting bold lol.

Soo I f we are going by Aqua sun, Libra Moon, Leo Ascending then that’s actually the most accurate chart to me for Harry.

That’ll also leave his Venus in Aqua, Mars in Aqua. He’s got ALOT of air in his chart. The reason Leo rising makes sense is because of the charisma he has. Leo risings are always so incredibly magnetic and attract a lot of attention. They can also come off having like a big ego (which we KNOW he does lol) now with him being a Leo rising that’ll take out him in a 21st degree which is sag so he has some influence of Sagittarius but not much just makes him more enthusiastic and joyful like the sun. He is reliable and constantly uplifting people. He enjoys simple things in a day to day but believes life is to be enjoyed and so he makes the effort for adventure pleasure and fun. He is likely to need attention and approval from others, so he is really has to work to admit that. The need to stand out in his own right is most important so he has worked his entire career to ensure that and it shows in how the media perceived him. He is in a lane of his own. He has extraordinary reserves of creativity and love that need an outlet. Following his heart and exploring passions and inspirations drive him in his achievements. He’s a born leader that works hard for comfort in luxury as he doesn’t feel like things should be handed to him. He puts in the time for it and turns his talents into his biggest strengths. This is likely why he takes his time and focuses on his creative skills and places he’s strong at first such as acting taking a backseat to music when it has to( he wasn’t planning on doing films until it became the most operable lane for him to stay working hard) and he does so with a natural flare that people envy. Things seems to come almost effortless to him but he still works hard.

The libra moon is in 3rd house. Libra are likely to have a need for serenity and harmony in their lives. ( so we will probably never see him pop off ;he don’t like conflict). He’s a peaceful person and he needs his personal life and relationships to reflect that as he has a career that is anything but. they usually also have a need to connect with others and are really great at building rapport (his networking skills are so fascinating) so he’s very diplomatic and has a knack for negotiating in terms of his career. Because of that knack I think it’s why people of all types in the industry gravitate towards him especially in business endeavors because he can balance conflicting agendas well..he plays fair. He’s uncomfortable in circumstance where there is lack of justice or unfairness and he constantly seeks ways to find common ground between himself and those around him in conflict because he doesn’t like it. He likes being around people and as Libra is a relationship sign he craves building relationships with people. He works best with others than on his own which is why he views relationships as teamwork as well as his friendships being so dear to him. But that need can also make him be passive aggressive sometimes. Because of the emphasis he might put on things.

“You may act or think in ways that are not always for your best interest just to keep a relationship alive. Then you may find then yourself involved in situations that are disturbingly out of balance, and do not reflect your true needs.” (Does that sound like a familiar song to y’all?)

He’s Aqua sun so obviously he’s a fixed air which makes him so hard to be locked down and it will probably not happen to him for a little while. Aquas tend to be fixed on one individual from time to time in their lives but it’s rare and often doesn’t last. His sun is in 6th house so ya boy likes a routine daily and to be athletic and healthy and he’s also a workaholic. DOESNT like doing mundane things (which is why he’s doing movies in his downtime ‘cause he can’t tour) he also has a Pisces influence on his sun because it’s in 12 degree which is a water sign and makes sense because despite him being an Aqua he’s very caring and in tune with his emotions. He also highly intuitive with this sign. And able to read moods and circumstances really well. This gives him again a leg up on making logical step in the industry cause which has him always one step ahead of the game always. ( he is an incredible businessman and I wish we seen how great he is at make deals and networking. He’s gonna be around in the industry FOREVER) his aloofness allows him to rise above drama so he has a more detached perspective of the everyday in the industry. He is more comfy with being impersonal, aloof than intimacy but yet his Libra moon has him craving intimacy so he don’t communicate emotion as well but also feels some type of way when others give him the same energy. Social awareness is probably really important to him because he want to create lanes that are inclusive and we can see that in his music videos and social activism. He wants to have a broad range of people in his life so he can be motivated by different walks of life but he does have trouble stepping out on his own to do so. It has to come to them. But no out of laziness or not caring just out of not wanting to get it wrong. He focuses a lot on similarities instead of difference in those he surrounds himself with which can also hinder surrounded himself with different walks of life. He might have a deep interest in the metaphysical as a lot of Aqua suns are interested or work in those fields. Aquas also ruled by humanitarian concerns so I can see him digging his hands into charity work going forward as he continues to learn. He is constantly thinking outside the box or comfort zone for him.

By giving himself and permission to be, he embodies authenticity whilst maintaining individual freedom which is the hallmark of his sign.

——————

Team Harry is a Leo rising bc my queen Tea brought some real talk to the table

[elkian]

I was gonna do a “missing the point”-style meme but I’m honestly not sure that would even work tho so:

Harry Potter and My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia have similar issues with introducing and then immediately ignoring ENORMOUS issues re: ableism.

I think these two series in specific come to mind bc it’s ableism within a specific empowered community, and in both cases the series are pretty well-known and the community (Wix/Heroes) are immediately identifiable to many audiences.

[WARNING: Discussions of ableism, child harm, and abuse on multiple levels.]

What’s the problem?

SQUIBS.

[This post got stupid huge SO here is a tl,dr for all you lovely people who understandably have no time for this.

TL, DR: Both Harry Potter and Boku No Hero have a bad tendency to implement or imply a level of disability regarding unempowered people in empowered societies. They then continue on to completely disregard important conclusions to these implications, such as how heavily it is implied that these unempowered people (Squibs) are so ‘worthless’ to those societies that their very deaths are merely a byline rather than an actual tragedy.

This is especially troubling in MHA/BNHA when so many other political and worldbuilding considerations HAVE been planned out, and seems to be less-discussed in the fandom as a whole, so that’s a much larger chunk of this post.]

That’s your tl, dr!

Here’s the Harry Potter angle:

HP has a bit that I’ve seen people discussing already: Neville’s magic was discovered when his uncle dropped a literal child a potenial lethal distance. 

Neville activating his power and surviving is celebrated, and then JKR immediately glosses over the glaring issue this has introduced: the heavy implication that a Squib dying from this incident would have not have been mourned or even really commented on.

The few adult Squibs (and isn’t that a whole new slice of wonderful /j) are generally disliked and ridiculed for some reason or other. Now, while obviously there are plenty of places where the Venn diagram of “disabled” and “asshole” intersect irl, when your ONLY presentation of a disabled character or group is, every time, an asshole or a fool or both, boy! That’s bad!

Neville (who is generally presented as magically, physically, and mentally weak and often treated as comic relief) is a bit better via the POV Character constantly having positive interactions with him, but this is still a mess. Yes, Neville canonically is not a Squib, but it’s not subtle that he’s on the cusp OF being a Squib, and that is a key element of ridiculing him in many situations (also the whole trauma thing multiple times, like if I really get into it I could do a whole double-size post of how Neville was done dirty or nearly dirty by JK all the time but this isn’t that post).

This isn’t even the point of this post. Let’s move to MHA/BNHA

Hero Academia has differing but honestly even worse issues. And I’m aware that different countries handle ableism and accessibility in different ways, but if you think too hard about it this is an absolute clusterfuck.

What is the problem now?

Squibs! Or rather, the main character of the series, Midoriya Izuku.

Deku (a nickname meaning “useless”! Imparted after his disability is recognized! hilarity!!) is also born without powers. Even worse in some ways, he is born without powers in a world where the overwhelming majority of the global population has some kind of empowerment. I can’t recall if it’s outright stated or only implied that someone with a functionally useless (and hoo boy, usefullness to society is its own post nope not today i do not have that much energy) Quirk is still more of a person than a Quirkless human.

That sink in? Okay, let’s move on.

In a narratively not-uncommon turn of events, Deku gains power. This is partially a product of, and directly tied to, his own work and determination, as well as his willingness to help even when physically outmatched.

To an American audience (NOT the intended audience though I wouldn’t doubt it if Horikoshi meant to have international appeal more or less from the start), this is a deeply satisfying narrative. Who doesn’t love an underdog story? And we even learn that the strongest hero of all time (til this point, anyways) was ALSO born Quirkless!

However, from here, things take a nosedive.

The key problem is a combination of story progression and overall thought put into worldbuilding. Horikoshi’s efforts may not be the MOST thorough, but he has put a great deal of work and thought into his creation (he at least understands the concept of implications and sometimes plans accordingly, looking at you JKR). However, that tied with story progression and personal repercussions actually works to the detriment of the matter.

Especially given recent turns of events.

 [BIG MEGA SPOILERS FOR FAIRLY RECENT PLOT

 STOP HERE IF YOU’RE NOT CAUGHT UP

 SERIOUSLY]

 What I mean by this is the current state of events re: two particular recent/recent-ish plot arcs.

First, Quirk Removal, and second, Endeavor’s comeuppance.

Quirk Removal/Loss was the start of my realization to what the narrative was doing regarding Izuku’s Quirklessness and the state of being overall.

This arc was a perfect time to bring up Midoriya’s past! A lot of Western works certainly would have done so! And yes, it may be bordering on done-to-death, but many elements of Hero Academia put new twists on common themes and cliches; it wasn’t unreasonable to hope that he might do it again.

Instead, little to NOTHING is discussed during this time! In fact, iirc I’d go so far as to say Midoriya straight-up never considers his past at any point during this arc!? If I’m wrong then it obviously made little impact.

NOW, not every disabled character needs to incorporate their disability and/or skills gleaned from living with it in every narrative. In fact, it would get tedious and questionable if they did (note: this does NOT mean ignoring/forgetting the character is even disabled when convenient. Like, I’d like to think that’s the obvious point of this post but... *gestures at tumblr*). 

But the complete lack of it here feels really weird. Like, almost hollow. I think Midoriya makes some kind of suggestion to Mirio of his former Quirklessness at the end of the arc, but nothing that made any kind of impact.

Let’s move on.

Endeavor.

Now, the problem with Endeavor’s arc is not the arc itself. Or, rather, it’s the fact that Endeavor’s Comeuppance is pretty good.

This is a problem because someone else should be getting this exact same arc, yet the issue is never even RECOGNIZED, let alone addressed.

Endeavor’s abuse of his wife and children, all in the name of creating a Heroic legacy, is publicized and tanks his popularity. The general public is now aware of what he’s done to the people closest to him, which aside from giving him a more correct reputation, means they can’t trust him to protect them if they can’t trust him to protect his own family.

This isn’t the goal of this post and I’m no expert regardless, but up to this point (around chapter 290) this was handled in an interesting way. Endeavor is humanized and often shown interacting with people in a way that, while often domineering, isn’t always aggressive or abusive. He runs a Hero Agency for crying out loud! But abuse in the real world often isn’t constant, nor happening to everyone in contact with the abuser. So this is a surprisingly good lead up to the reveal, where you can understand how most people never realized this was an issue.

But here’s my main point. Let’s examine some traits and actions that come up:

physically abusive to a child (often dangerously so) to the point of permanent trauma and severe scarring in some cases

target of abuse was weaker (physically and/or regarding Quirk power)

often abused victim emotionally/psychologically, bringing this weakness up again and again

own immense power led to rising in the world of Heroics

comrades, fellow Heroes, UA teachers etc. not aware of prior abuse issues

Who does this sound like?

Endeavor, who has a whole fucking arc dedicated to this reveal and repercussions?

Or Bakugou?

Reminder: This isn’t a hate post. This isn’t a character post, or even an abuse post. This is about ableism.

Bakugou exhibits many, many traits and actions that Endeavor was literally just punished for. So why does the treatment of these characters in-universe differ so drastically?

Two primary reasons I can think of, which feed into each other:

1) Bakugou was a child (still technically is a minor, remember! Still a first-year high schooler!) when this started. This doesn’t mean he’s strictly innocent, but it’s an important point, because it leads us to

2) Bakugou Katsuki’s abuse of Midoriya Izuku is socially accepted.

Reminder of the audience’s first encounter with Katsuki. The very first page with him is him and his grade-school posse picking on a kid that Izuku is trying to protect. His posse is showing off their Quirk powers and mocking Izuku’s lack thereof.

Then we flash forward to late-middle school versions of the kids. Bakugou, in front of a fucking teacher and entire class, is verbally, physically, etc. abusive to Izuku. He trashes his stuff, threatens him, tells him to kill himself (which, as Izuku notes later, is a fucking felony in Japan too).

No one stops him.

No one criticizes him.

We don’t even get a shot of like, some more ‘regular’ students being like “man Bakugou’s kinda fucked up but we’re too scared to do anything about it” NO. NO. Everyone more or less either backs Katsuki up or straight up doesn’t care.

Remember that this started when Katsuki and Izuku were four. Remember that Katsuki’s power is absurdly dangerous, ie. LITERAL. GODDAMN. EXPLOSIONS.

Izuku has scars. He probably has hearing loss! He may have gotten at least one concussion which can cause serious neurological issues and open him up to further risk!

He could have died.

And?

NO ONE. DOES. ANYTHING.

THIS is the point of the post. THIS is the value placed on Quirkless people in this society.

And yet. Despite Endeavor’s comeuppance. Despite All Might and Izuku’s blatant ‘value’ to society through Heroics. Despite so many other political implications and quandaries address in the Hero Academia series.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing about this is addressed. The nearly-lethal ableism towards Quirkless people in this society is never ONCE brought up properly once Izuku receives One For All.

There is so much potential here! There is so much worth talking about! And yet we’ve moved into what feels very much like the Final Battle without it being addessed, despite numerous, numerous opportunities for a meaningful conversation about it along the way.

Mirio losing his power! Hell, Mirio’s powers’ drawbacks (and pretty much every Quirk’s drawback! if acknowledged properly!) border on a disability-analogue, and even more when Yuga’s laser comes up, and yet again and again we fail to truly engage with the matter in a meaningful way.

At this point, even if it comes up in the finale, I’m going to be disappointed in this particular aspect of the series due to the complete and total shut-down it’s been given so far.

What the FUCK, Horikoshi?

[thesoundofmadness]

Do you have any HCs for LeVander outisde of the band AU? Or post-Ninjafan Rachel, maybe?

I got you

Dude’s cis but definitely gay. He tried to replicate a british accent in Unstank my Hart because he thinks they’re hot as fuck

Which kinda sucks because his family is like deeply conservative and Christian. He hasn’t come out yet though (god knows what they’ll do if he does despite Norrisvile’s VERY STRICT anti-lgbtq+ discrimination laws and less strict but definitely still A Big Deal child endangerment laws)

Despite that he’s kinda spoiled to no end cause his family is rich as fuck, which is how he got all that rock gear. He also has a lot of pets.

He’s not all that interested singing as he is playing. And he does have some skill, it just needs to be worked on. The reason why he’s so bad at guitar is because he’s a newbie, before he played some orchestra instruments because his parents made him.

He’s managed to stay relatively popular after being in stanked. He’s regularly featured on Heidi’s MeCast and has a decent following online, tho not nearly as big as when he was stanked. He mostly posts guitar/ orchestra covers. Luckily his parents don’t monitor his internet activities

Though he avoided Randy and Howard like crazy after the stanking thing during the rest of their freshman and all of their sophomore years, Junior year they make up since they’re ~~older~~ and ~~more mature ~~ now. (Tho it was mostly bc randy and Howard were having some issues and Randy needed someone he could fall back on)

His official like indoctrination to the group (for a lack of a better word ig) was when they pranked the school during senior prom that year. They had to take a trip to detention island together but it was g l o r i o u s

He does find out that Randy’s the ninja after randy ninja outed right in front of them on detention island.

“Relax Howard! I’ll just ninja out and this detention island thing will be a breeze!”

“Uh, Cunningham? Are you forgetting that Levenders with us?”

“So? If he’s gonna be apart of the group, might as well tell him. And he can keep a secret, can’t ya, Lev?”

“Uh.... what-what kind of secret?”

“This kind of secret!”

Yeah Nomicon did not like Randy also telling Levender cause now 3 other people know (Howard, Theresa, and now Levander) but it can’t exactly predict anything going wrong with this so it trusts Randy’s judgement.

To say Levender was surprised is an understatement.

“You’re the ninja?!”

“Hehe, Yep.”

“Holy smokes.... i’m friends with the Ninja..... holy heck....”

“Yeah, do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Why not? This is awesome!”

“If you do, I’ll be forced to give the mask up early. I only got a year and a half left, so I wanna make the most of it while I can. Think you can keep it a secret?”

“Uh.... yeah! No problem! Wait... what do you mean by ‘year and a half left’?”

Unfortunately tho he gets disowned by his parents after going with Randy to their senior prom. Randy’s parents were nice enough to let him stay with them until he was old enough/had the means to get a place of his own.

He does manage to make a career out of his music tho. He’s more of a local pop star than anything, but he doesn’t mind that. He’s very active on social media and does vlog-type videos when he’s not posting guitar covers.

[lunar-lair]

Few lil extra details abt the dead Reigen AU just cause I felt like mentioning them:

Reigen also lacks shoes, for,,,,,,obvious reasons. He doesn't really notice, though; it isn't much of a difference for a spirit, ya know?

Fun fact, when he possesses someone for too long-say...5 hours or more, smth like that-blood starts dripping from their right temple. It doesn't hurt; hell, it doesn't even have a source, and normal people can't even see it cause it's Ghost Shit, but I just wanted to give him a version of Dimple's...you know, dimples. It's his giveaway, one of those things that would tip an esper off to a possession outside of spiritual presence.

*Grabs you by the shoulders* dimple can be a parent figure to reigen.

*DIMPLE CAN BE A PARENT FIGURE TO REIGEN*

Like,,,,,,,,,ghost adult, ghost teen, bada bing bada boom u've got urself a tiny ghost family

It's like that concept where Reigen adopts Teruki, kinda, w the personalities, but just. Ghost Time u kno

Also Ekuseri is the central adult ship!! Yaaaayy obscure ships

It's kind of the only option-well, the only semi-popular option-with Reigen out of the picture, and I thought the idea could be fun, especially with the two of them being the only adults among a sea of kids + 1 dead kid.

Speaking of which, they are, indeed, The Local Dads, once Serizawa gets his shit together after Claw. (Though, he sees Reigen as more of an odd-circumstanced friend due to Backstory Reasons, which I'll reveal next; not tonight, though...I'll leave you all wondering a little bit longer ;))

Also speaking of which, in this AU, the Kageyamas step up a little to help out the kids and inegrate Serizawa back into society a little. They're my Replacement Reigen for situations where he would have to be A Adult to do the thing he does in canon, basically.

But you know that galaxy brain idea where the Kageyamas basically adopt Reigen? That but Serizawa

I'm still not sure if he'll just live with the Kageyamas or not? He doesn't have the office now, is all, so I don't know,,,,,,how or where he would. Go to work. Maybe he finds a good convience store job once they've helped him out a little, and he just stays until he finds a good apartment, basically.

Yeah, I think that'll work, we'll go with that

Other notes, Reigen *does* curse a lot in this AU due to that mentioned gang, and he's also about just as excitable as any other tiney Reigen you see floating around

Along with the added sass, Mob gets and makes jokes a little more in this AU due to Reigen helping him figure them out. He's still emotionally dulled at first, and he's still socially awkward, of course, but having a friend his age (spirit or not) helped boost him along a little.

Reigen used to be a little easily annoyed when trying to get Mob to understand a joke, but he's used to walking Mob through them, now.

Reigen himself is actually a little less rude here because Mob was actually able to call him out on it instead of just taking it, too.

They have an *endless* fount of inside jokes. (Mob is very proud of them; usually *he's* the one who can't get the joke, but now it's one only him and Arataka can get.)

Reigen doesn't like possessing people much; he doesn't like the idea of puppeting someone's body around without their permission, and it reminds him just a *little* too much that he's a Whole Ass Ghost, y'know?

But Mob?

That's a whole different ballpark.

Mob lets Reigen possess him a lot to have conversations when it's just hard to talk, when one of them is sad and they just want some Comfort (beyond what laying down together can get them), or when Reigen is hella tired and needs a goddamn nap. (He takes the best ones curled up in the back of Mob's brain, letting him take control while Reigen hides out in his body.)

It's useful for keeping Reigen safe from espers or other ghosts, sometimes, it allows Reigen to fight people for Mob...it's just useful all around.

But due to how often Reigen possesses him, they're really good at fluently switching control, and sometimes it's kinda trippy, cause they both talk to you or each other through Mob's body and his face switches wildly back and forth between Reigen's expression and his own flat one, his voice and Reigen's, and it's just a little Wild. (Mob has complained (jokingly) more than once of aching cheeks after a possession session (yes Reigen came up with that name) due to how much Reigen smiles.

Reigen just smiles back at him and says 'thaaat'ss my job!' all drawn out and happy with a thumb pointing at his chest every time.)

Speaking of Reigen fighting, he's also still got his fighting skills! Again, gang, you know how it is.

Ritsu still doesn't like Reigen, but it's more cause he's jealous and wary of him from what he hears than anything else.

After seeing how close he really is to his brother, though, he warms up quickly enough.

Teruki kinda just thinks Reigen's really cool in this AU instead of like,,,,,admiring him. They just become pretty good friends, vibing and going 'o shit me too!!' when one of them talks about putting up an act and shit.

Teruki kinda becomes Reigen's dumping center for the small circle of bullshit Mob didn't quite get and Reigen becomes Teruki's dumping center in return.

They also sass each other. They sass each other A Lot. Half of their conversations are joking insults; same goes for Ritsu, honestly.

Get the three of them together and they'll just roast each other for an hour, laughing at every other one bc 'oh my God that dug *deep,* absolutely perfect!'

Mob's glad Reigen has people he can be unsensitive with after all those years of dealing with him, genuinely and totally. Reigen's first response has always been something rude, whether he means it or not, and while Mob understood most of that, some of those insults got to Mob even if he didn't really want them to, and over the years, Reigen started doctoring his responses. Now he didn't have to, really, when every insult was a joke.

(You've gotta wonder why he resorts to insults immediately for humor, though, huh? Makes you wonder if he had to see the bright side of some insults, huh?

Just more backstory hints, poking out. ;))

Well that got..........way longer than I intended it to

But here are a lot of the basic foundation points for the series; things that are always applicable, or just general notes on how relationships and things like that go/will be going. I'll probably make another post adding on to this-or maybe even just reblog this one, who knows-as I go along and establish some other general ideas for Mob and Reigen's friendship, more on Tome, etc., but until then, here's my pile!

I'll be making separate posts for all of the plot points/ important things in the AU as I go, too, starting with Reigen's past, whenever I get to it. Hope you're glad I'm dropping hints ;)

[digitalcomfortspot]

S/I talky time, gonna talk about the version of me that's in Pacific Wim :3

Bc I can't get that math nerd out of my head goddamnit

Magnus 'Maggie' Stone, a top Jaeger engineer. He/him.

Ship name with Hermman Gottlieb: Handwriting of Mechanical Gods

Stone is a large fellow, standing at 5'11 with strong arms and rounded features, messy hair always either a different color every week, or black. No in between. He has a few tattoos on his arms, along the left is one of forget me nots, ferns, and sunflowers that wrap his forearm in black and white. The left arm is covered in constellations, intermingled with gears. They stop at the elbows, though he has one more on his collarbone of the big dipper, Ursa Major.

Magnus Stone is, above all, a kind and friendly person, but doesn't understand social rules. He has trouble fitting in and making friends due to his lack of understanding, and finds it easier to talk to the Jaegers he works on than to people.

Stone is not the most liked fellow among his peers. His wilder, somewhat out of the box ideas never really pan out when presented, and not many actually believe his engineering skills to be that bright, believing that he faked the test to get in. He skirts by on maintenance work, though, everyone else unable to fix a Jaeger quite like he can. In reality, his ideas are brilliant, but getting them across... not so much.

He tries his best to be kind, even if other people aren't kind to him. He does acts of kindness kindness no one is looking,, just to try and make things easier. His job as an engineer is to do just that, and he applies that everywhere. It's how he and Hermann met, really.

He noticed the man was having trouble getting his own coffee in the mornings, swamped in work and his best friend's arguing with him. So, before Hermann would come into the lab, he'd swipe the keys and leave a fresh pot or mug on the desk. Eventually, he caught on to what Hermann liked, making sure it was a brew the mathematician would enjoy, and kept trying to go by unseen.

Hermann, however, showed up early one day, and that's how he found out who was leaving him the coffees in the first place.

They talk, and Hermann finds out that he had been doing it in secret because he doesn't have the best reputation. Others have harassed him for his ideas before, completely misunderstanding them, and making fun of him for them. So he didn't want Hermann to endure that kind of treatment as well.

Hermann immediately, without Magnus' knowledge, began gathering evidence of this harassment, with Newt's help. Soon, they had an entire card's worth of documentation, and dragged it down to present it to the authorities. Magnus had to come in eventually to testify that these were true, and after avoiding the question for a while, Hermann finally convinces him that it's okay to tell the truth.

They have dinner to discuss some new Jaeger schematics and calculations, as Hermann's math and Magnus' engineering seem to go hand in hand. Then they have another... and another... and yet another. Soon, every Wednesday night, they're meeting for dinner whether or not they're talking schematics.

It's somewhere between Magnus rambling excitedly about new gears they got in, and soft hugs that he pretends he doesn't like, and comforting morning coffee now brought with a smile, and listening to his math ramblings with a grin,

That Herman realizes he has some rather not-so-friendlike feelings for Magnus after all.

Magnus has been pining for Hermann for much longer, but is, frankly, too afraid to say anything. With his reputation? He figures Hermann would rather not.

And Hermann has a hard time saying much in general, in lieu of feelings. He's not the best with words.

So, the yearning phase begins, and remains there for a VERY long time. Brushed hands, soft gestures that "don't mean anything in particular", denial, nights spent sitting together when things get to be too much...

Eventually, Newt goes from being excited to watch the proverbial soap opera happening before him, to bored, to anxious, to fuming. It's been at least 2 years by now, and he finally gets fed up with it. He locks them in the laboratory, telling them that until they either find a way out of the room together with a fucked up lock that Newt jammed himself, or figure out how to talk about their feelings, they're staying in there.

It takes a while, some heated arguing that they rarely do due to pent up feelings, a burst of emotions and confessions, and a few *ahem* make out sessions (and a little more) before Newt opens the door, satisfied with himself that he's brought the two together singlehandedly.

They move in together after properly dating for a few months.

Hermann has loads of books, and runs baths for Magnus when he's tired and sore from the work on the Jaegers.

Magnus keeps around puzzle toys to fidget with, exceedingly complicated, and writes Hermann poetry so he can read the other man to sleep on harsh nights.

They find space with each other. Space where things are alright for once. Space to come when everything else seems terrifying and strange.

And it works out rather well for them, I'd say.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

This year I lost my dear husband, James (QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD)

Putting this on Tumblr too bc it’s a oneshot (~3,000 word?), and I know Tumblr eats links, but if you want it on AO3 the link to my account there is in my blog header. 

It was a perfect day for the Lonely, damp and cold and foggy, and he knew Peter would be doing something interesting now that he was back on land, but he hadn’t thought it would be this.

Elias had expected to find him lurking outside the Institute, looking searchingly at everyone who left until he got some sign of recognition (okay, maybe Elias had fantasized about that a bit, and about coolly ignoring him for a few days before pretending to meet him for the first time, pointedly asking if he was lost). Or, if he felt like doing something sensible, maybe trying to identify the new Head of the Magnus Institute, not that Elias thought his nonexistent research skills and horror of human interaction would get him far there. More likely he’d pretend nothing had changed and simply go about his usual lonely business, waiting for Elias to contact him, too proud in his carefully cultivated self-sufficiency to seek him out at all.

But none of this had happened. Instead, he had scared the new tenant at James Wright’s flat half to death by appearing suddenly in her living room (she was convinced he was a ghost and had come to the Institute to give a statement, hilariously enough), and then, after a few hours of frenzied attempts at figuring out where his husband had gone, he’d finally found his obituary in a newspaper and disappeared into the Lonely to… sulk, or whatever it was he did in there. It took too much effort for Elias to watch him in there, and besides, it was impossible to do without making his presence felt, and he wanted to maintain the element of surprise, so he left him alone.

The next time he was able to find him, Peter was sitting on the still-bare mud of James Wright’s grave with a bottle of whisky, the mists clinging to him like the hands of ghosts.

Huh. Well, that was new.

Pothead filing clerk Elias Bouchard did not have good clothes, and the new Elias was still working on replacing his entire wardrobe with things more suitable for a Head of the Institute, but he could manage. He had his suit, and he’d kept one of James Wright’s long black coats. He flung it over his shoulders at the entrance to the graveyard.

He couldn’t see Peter from here, at least not with his human eyes, and that was all he was using.The fog thickened around Peter. But he Knew where he was, so he started walking. The grass squelched under his shoes when he stepped off the path, and he grimaced, placing his feet carefully to avoid slipping, trying not to get any mud on his shoes.

Slowly, as he walked deeper into the mist, a human figure appeared, slumped against one of the headstones.

He Knew that if he hadn’t had preternatural sight he wouldn’t have been able to find him at all, so it wasn’t surprising that Peter, who would usually hunch himself a bit deeper into the mist and will himself to be unnoticeable, looked up, confused by the intrusion.

Elias made a conscious effort not to Look at him, but only to meet his eyes and give a brief nod. Not a trace of Beholding. Just a man wandering the graveyard, intrigued at finding a drunken sailor sprawled across a fresh grave.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring a bit at the place where Peter’s legs slumped against the wet earth, mud soaking into his trousers. Why would he sit there. Sitting on the wet grass would have been bad enough, but right in the mud, really? And since when did Peter own a black dress shirt? Was he… he was. He was wearing all black. He was wearing all black, crying on James Wright’s grave. He was crying. He’d been almost certain he’d Seen it wrong before. After all, it was a wet day, he’d assumed it was rain. Peter would never let himself enter the real world in such a state. But here he was…?

Peter scrubbed his cheek with a muddy hand and screwed the cap off his bottle, clearing his throat with a distinctly dismissive sound. Elias, disregarding his implicit plea for solitude, walked closer.

“Friend of yours?”

Peter glanced at him briefly, coldly, before tipping the bottle back. Probably cursing himself for not noticing when someone broke through his shroud of mist, for not isolating himself better. But that was just a guess. Elias couldn’t look into his mind; the mist made it a gamble at the best of times and anyways Peter knew what it felt like. He couldn’t give himself away yet. The mystery was so exciting.

“I knew him,” Elias commented, looking at the fresh new headstone, granite shining under a pale coat of water. Peter was leaning against it, obscuring most of the inscription, but he knew what it said.

“Lots of people did,” Peter grunted. “Think I’m the only one who didn’t hear about it when he died.”

Ahaha! Was Peter Lukas lamenting his lack of connection to the rest of humanity? That thing he so carefully cultivated and was so very very proud of. That thing? Hilarious. Or, maybe he was just malingering to feed the Lonely. That was probably it.

“No?” Elias prodded. Peter sighed.

“I was away. No one took the trouble to contact me.”

Had he assumed that one of the more socially-integrated Lukases would have gotten in contact with him if something important happened? Funny. He was pretty sure the Lukases expected Peter to give them updates on Elias, if anything.

“That must have been hard. When did you find out?”

“Yesterday. What do you want?”

Elias considered introducing himself as Head of the Institute. Seeing his reaction would be lovely, but he wanted to drag it out a bit more, see if Peter could figure it out himself. If not, he could mock him later for not being able to put the pieces together.

“Some privacy,” said Elias, leaning one arm against the headstone, “but it seems you had the same idea as I. How did you know him?”

Peter considered this for a moment. “Work,” he said.

Hah. That was amusing. Did he really see it like that? It had been a long time since they had dropped that pretense. Not that the Institute didn’t still rely heavily on the contributions of the Lukas family, but their last several marriages had been private, more for personal reasons than for, as he so eloquently put it, work. Even when they were estranged, he and Peter stayed on decent terms, and after so many years he trusted Peter not to cause problems for him with his family; especially as he continued to offer them any useful information (and any lonely statement-givers) that came his way. The Institute and the Lukas family were allies. That didn’t mean that the two of them had to be married, yet they kept doing it anyway. It was stupid but Elias had long ago resigned himself to it. They both had a weak spot for the other, and like good allies they’d silently agreed never to talk about it. But here Peter was lying in the mud and grieving.

“Interesting, so did I,” said Elias. “Best place to meet him, I believe. The man hardly left the Institute.”

Peter chuckled softly. “Sounds about right.”

Elias thought about interrogating Peter about where he worked and how he’d supposedly met James, but decided not to. If he made him too uncomfortable Peter might just disappear before he could reveal himself, and that would be a shame. And he hadn’t come here to catch him in a lie, he’d come to ask him about James Wright.

“Did you know him well?” asked Elias.

Peter stared into the mist.

“Pretty well, yeah.”

“I think I did too,” said Elias, tracing the headstone’s inscription with his fingertips. “We… yes. We were close.”

He’d hoped to get some reaction with that. Peter considered for a few moments, then silently offered him the bottle. Elias, who’d tried Peter’s whisky before, knew better.

“Thank you, no.”

Peter took the drink himself, and Elias was… concerned about the amount of liquor he was consuming.

“Not planning on joining him, are you?”

Peter just grunted. “…You liked him, huh?”

Elias laughed softly. “Anyone would,” he said sappily, and was pleased to see him carefully not react. He was getting the message, and oh, how he wished he could see how he was reacting to it under that mask. Surely he wouldn’t keep the stoic act too long, he was already daytime drinking on a fresh grave, there wasn’t much lower he could fall. Elias let his voice drop. “I… loved him.”

“Mm,” commented Peter. He placed one hand on the mud beside him, gently pressing into the earth, and kept it there. “I wasn’t around much,” he said quietly.

Well what on earth was he supposed to make of that? He was trying to make Peter jealous and he had very rarely failed at something so completely.

“Do you know, was he alone when he died?” asked Peter.

“Yes.”

“Pity. He was terrified of death.”

“Isn’t everyone?” asked Elias, perhaps a little sharply.

Peter shrugged. “It scares me enough, I suppose, but it doesn’t bother me the way it did him… it seems restful. Resigning yourself to the way of things. I’m not rushing to meet it, of course, but there’s a kind of unflinching beauty in death. No one’s immune, much as we might pretend. In the end, we all face death alone.” He stretched one leg out in the mud, pressing his hand deeper into the earth so that his fingers started to disappear. “And frankly it would solve a lot of problems. Wouldn’t have to turn in budget reports, for one thing.” He chuckled. “yes, it seems peaceful.”

“Not to me. Have you seen people die?” said Elias.

“I have. Many times. The fear is felt by those who are left watching, the dead are beyond it.”

“Because they’re gone. Doesn’t that scare you?”

Peter tilted his head back, let it rest against the headstone, and looked at the dimly-visible silhouette of bare branches against the pale sky. His hair lay in damp strands across his forehead, and Elias Did Not think about brushing them back.

“In the eyes of death I’m already gone. Aren’t we all? We exist for a moment. Like bubbles in the stream. Here a moment, then breaking; always in motion. I’ve always known how… transparent it all is. You can’t really touch anything without falling through,” Peter said.

Well that was new. He was babbling, words starting to slur. Elias decided that he’d have to reveal himself soon, before Peter drank himself so deeply into incoherence that he wouldn’t be able to react to the surprise. That would be a waste.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter after a pause, “I doubt others see it the way that I do. But death has never held any particular terror for me. I’m more afraid of pain, or sickness. Being deceived. Those are things that happen when you’re alive.”

Especially that last one, thought Elias. Peter started to set the bottle down (thank goodness), thought about it for a moment… and started to unscrew the top for another swig. Elias, acting on impulse, swiped it out of his hands. Peter turned to glare at him.

“Listen, I know we’ve only just met but I’m not watching you drink yourself to death over some man you barely knew.”

Ah, finally, a reaction. A spark of rage appeared in Peter’s face, but passed before it could translate into motion. Elias, who’d been tensed for a fight, slowly relaxed.

“You’re right,” said Peter quietly, looking off into the mist. “I didn’t know him. No one really does.”

“What?”

“Know each other. You just… see the outside of someone, and you guess about what they’re really like, but you’re never quite right. People exist apart from you. And that’s very lonely. Almost as lonely as death.”

Elias muffled an exasperated sigh.

“Well, if that’s your belief, surely it can’t be hard to replace someone who’s left you. One person must be as good as another if you can never really—”

“No. I still miss him.”

A warmth spread through Elias’ chest. There, he had it loud and clear in plain words. He was going to hold on to this memory and the next time Peter tried to pull that “oh I’m an emotionless avatar of Forsaken incapable of human bonds” he’d beam it directly into his brain so hard he got a fucking nosebleed from the sheer amount of raw, human, embarrassing grief. Elias wondered if this would be useful blackmail material.

“I know that smile.”

With a start, Elias realized that Peter had leaned back and was looking up at him, frowning. Ah, he’d blown his cover. Well, this was as good a time as any.

“Do you?” he smiled. Peter looked intently at him. At his eyes.

“Jonah?” he said in a small voice.

Elias laughed.

“Took you long enough.” And as proof, he showed him a memory; James Wright’s stilled body with empty eye sockets, image blurred with pain as his new body adjusted to him. Elias Bouchard’s eyes, bloodshot, in his hand. Placing them in James Wright’s body and washing his hands, vision slowly clearing.

Peter sighed, closing his eyes. “Jonah. Were you trying to make me jealous of your narcissistic crush on yourself? I mean, it’s accurate; I’m just not used to that level of honesty from you.”

“Oh, “Jonah”? You must really be angry at me.”

“No, you just haven’t told me your name yet, handsome stranger.”

“Elias. Elias Bouchard, new Head of the Magnus Institute. Pleased to meet you, sailor.” Elias walked around the headstone to crouch closer to Peter, who was almost laughing.

“El-lie-as,” he said slowly, as if tasting the name syllable by syllable, and a chill ran up Elias’ spine. Huh. Very sensitive new body. Yeah, that was it. “It fits you,” said Peter. “Musical, pretentious, has the word lie in it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Elias leaned in for a kiss and Peter stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Elias, dear, why does this body smell like weed?”

“I’m… still airing the flat out.”

“Why does your body’s flat smell like weed?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Hm! Didn’t have you pegged for a stoner, Jonah. I’ll have to introduce you to some of my crew…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’re right, I don’t remember anyone’s names. You’ll have to introduce yourself.”

“Listen, I don’t think you have any right critiquing the habits of my body’s former inhabitant when I just found you lying in the mud trying to drink yourself to death.”

“Shut up. I thought you were dead.”

“Oh, that’s cute. Me? Really? You thought I was dead?”

“You’re not immune to heart attacks, Elias! They said it was a sudden heart attack, I thought you really died!”

“What, you think a little heart attack could kill me?”

“That is exactly the kind of attitude that makes me think your hubris is going to catch up to you one of these days.”

He was right, but Elias didn’t want to admit it. He tried to pick healthy bodies, but the thought that despite all his centuries of care and planning, one might just… break down on him…

“C’mere,” said Peter, tugging on his tie. “I’d better start getting used to that smell.”

“I’m not joining you in the mud, Peter, get up.”

“Too drunk. C’mon, you’re already muddy.”

Elias remembered that that was the hand Peter had gotten all muddy before touching him. Looked down at his shirt. Groaned.

“Oh, for—”

Peter chucked him under the chin, deliberately smearing mud on him, then grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him down in the mud while Elias was busy glaring at him. Elias swore.

“Oh, shut up. I think this is a very lenient revenge for letting me think you were dead.”

“Well that’s your fault for not being smarter.”

Peter pinned him against the solid cold of the headstone and kissed him and oh he could not let him know how much he was enjoying this or he’d never live it down. Peter was cold and smelled of grave dirt and whisky and still, faintly, of the sea. It was a new experience, but still Peter.

“You’re a mess,” said Elias, resigning himself to his muddy fate with a sigh. At least he’d fallen on top of his coat, and it was keeping the worst of it off him.

“And? I’m assuming your new flat has a shower,” said Peter.

“It does. Only a shower,” Elias complained. Peter laughed.

“Oh, noooo, no bath? You’ll survive, you spoiled Victorian. I’ll even show you how it works.”

“I know how to take a shower!”

“Turning down the offer?”

“…No.”

“Good.” Peter traced the shape of his face with a muddy finger. Elias grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

“Could you at least use your other hand? The one that’s not caked in mud?”

“No, I don’t think I will. This mud was the closest I thought I’d ever get to you.”

“And that bothers you? Really? Mr. Lonesome, Eternally Alone Lukas?”

Peter got an odd expression. He didn’t like Elias calling him out on his many contradictions. He could argue quite convincingly if he was in the mood, but he apparently wasn’t. “Shut up,” he said, and kissed him again.

This little experiment had gone well, Elias decided.