#top ten of my posts that could have been made by an alien

[parkerthejester]

Yeah I like roleplay in the bedroom. thats when you put on like a big hat and say “verily” and shit right

#text #shitpost #top ten of my posts that could have been made by an alien

[dandylovesturtles]

Top Ten Posts of 2023

I decided, why not? ^^

I'm limiting this to fics/analysis/headcanon/etc posts I made during the year and skipping over anything that isn't my actual creative work. That said, if you're curious, my actual top post was this funky screenshot from episode 2.

10. Everyone's just fine with Donnie modding the moon buggy? (362 notes)

It occurred to me that despite being MASSIVE nerds for the Jupiter Jim franchise, the bros seemed awfully chill with Donnie taking an actual on-set moon buggy and modding the hell out of it.

A few people argued with me in the notes that the Turtle Tank is so cool no one could possibly be mad about it and I do think that's fair. The Turtle Tank is easily my favorite thing Donnie made in the show.

9. Splinter and Leo talk post movie (443 notes)

And then his dad walks in and says, “I would like to talk to Blue, please. Alone.” And suddenly Leo doesn’t feel so good anymore.

This is the most recent tumblr fic I've done (I think lol), so seeing it make it this high felt pretty good. I love Splinter and his boys... they make me emotional.

8. A headcanon about the Disaster Twins (445 notes)

I have a headcanon that the twins are lowkey always trying to get each other to laugh.

This is still true.

7. A showcase of Donnie's injuries in End Game (462 notes)

So everyone talks about Donnie getting his shell shredded by the Shredder in Many Unhappy Returns but I feel like it’s underappreciated that that happened to him coming off of getting his ass beat in End Game like

One of the first posts I made when I made this blog haha. Poor Donnie |'D

6. Donnie records everything (617 notes)

broke: Donnie listening to what happened in the prison dimension woke: Donnie showing Raph Leo’s big damn hero speech since he wasn’t there the first time

The main reason why this has so many notes is because @roseverdict wrote a great fic down in the notes that you should all go read.

5. Leo asks Donnie a favor (829 notes)

“You might as well tell me what you need,” he says, turning to his computer and pulling up his list. “I’ll assess it and prioritize.” “No, no, that’s okay. It’s nothing,” Leo insists. “Nardo.” Donnie levels his best stare at him. “What is it?”

I love writing the Disaster Twins being soft and you guys love it when I write it too.

4. Present Donnie and Future Donnie have a little disagreement (CAS AU fic) (1,242 notes)

“What was I supposed to do, tie him to a chair?” “Yes!?” says Mini-him like he’s stupid, which warrants a scoff.

Shoutout to @skcirthinq who doodled a comic version of their conversation.

3. Casey Jr. and Uncle Tello troll Present Donnie (CAS AU fic) (1,701 notes)

Casey Jr, says Uncle Tello’s voice. Uncle Tello? Do you want to see something really funny?

This is my actual fic with the most notes! I'm glad you all enjoyed this silly little take on what was actually an incredibly intense moment in Cass's original comic.

2. Mikey contacts the Hamato ancestors (2,054 notes)

future Mikey: *trying to contact the spirits of the Hamato for advice and guidance in the apocalypse* Donnie’s spirit: Hello, you are now communing with Donatello.

I can't believe you guys gave over 2K notes to the stupidest joke I've ever made. Shoutout to @nonymous06 for this artist's rendition.

and finally, drum roll please.....

My top post of 2023:

1. A very silly idea for a separated AU (4,283 notes)

non-angsty ROTTMNT separated AU where the boys meet online and bond over their shared love of Jupiter Jim and skateboarding and Lou Jitsu. Then one day they agree to meet irl for the first time at a con and decide to dress as turtle aliens.

This post spawned an adorable fanart by @thatsmutbean , this hilarious fanart by @onionninjasstuff , and an entire fanfic called new phone who dis by @rbtlvr

This has been an incredible year! My love for ROTTMNT has not diminished in the slightest and I still have lots of ideas, so I hope you guys stick with me for 2024. Thanks again! Happy New Year!!

#no idea what to tag this as #if I put it in the main tag is that annoying #oh well #rottmnt

[virusinfected-memes]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PART 1]

“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”

“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”

“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”

“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”

“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”

“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”

“Be the worst you can be.”

“But do aliens believe in me?”

“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”

“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”

“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”

“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?

“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”

“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”

“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”

“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”

“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”

“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”

“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”

“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”

““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”

“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”

“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”

“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”

“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”

“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”

“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”

“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”

“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”

“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”

“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”

“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”

“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”

“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”

“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”

“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”

“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”

“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”

“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”

"It seems you are in love with your computer.”

“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”

“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”

“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”

“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”

“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”

“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”

“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”

“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”

“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”

“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”

“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”

“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”

“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”

“So what if I love you? Shut up.”

“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”

“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”

“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”

“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”

“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”

“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”

“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”

“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”

“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”

“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”

“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”

“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”

“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”

“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”

“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”

#ask meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #tumblr #* mine

[little-pondhead]

I would like to hear the lore about your deep sea mermaid and her daughter with a prosthetic tail. I would like to hear it very much.

Well, you've convinced me! Here's everything I have on her. :)

Everyone can blame @elizabethemerald for the info dump about this post.

---

Let's start with some background! The two mermaids from my last art post are one of my many (many) OCs. They belong to a version of Earth that would best be described as science fantasy, I believe. There are equal amounts of science and aliens as there are magic and fairies. The world system isn't completely thought out yet, so we can come back to that later. The point is that there's a lot of stuff shoved into this one world. To me, it's basically one giant puzzle trying to figure out where science stops and magic begins.

For the mermaids, most of them are deep-sea based. This is because, as of right now, less than ten percent of the ocean floor has been properly explored, so it makes sense that the depths of the sea are where they're hiding. In the concept notes, a large disaster happens to Earth that floods parts of the world with new resources. This disaster stirred up the creatures living on the ocean floor, causing some to evolve and grow. This is what happened to the mermaids, who were already the top predators alongside the cliché sea monsters you find in myths. If you factor in the several decades of the planet trying to stabilize and recover from the disaster, by the time [HUMANS] found mermaids, these aquatic folk of the deep are now too big to visit the surface properly.

The last bit of backstory is that there are now many different species of intelligent life living on Earth and beyond. These beings are split up into different classes, depending on what they are. Mermaids belong to the [MYTHEON] class, as they can trace their origins to human mythologies. Other classes include [BEAST FOLK], who possess both human and animal qualities but do not trace their origins to mythologies, or [ALIENS], who originate from beyond Earth's solar system.

Onto the mermaids!

I'm gonna be honest, I came up with the mother's design on the fly. She doesn't really have a name, but I like to imagine that, at some point, she has to go to the surface, and everyone meeting her is just in awe of her size and beauty. I just think it'd be neat to draw. :)

Now her DAUGHTER, oh boy. She's one of the main OCs for this story I have cooking up. Due to the mermaid's natural habitat, they have their own language, similar to whale song. However, when roughly translated into English, her name is Marina! (Creative, I know. I like very literal names.)

Marina is based on an anglerfish, one of the most well-recognized fish in the sea. She's one of many who scuttle around the Midnight Zone. Her mother is several decades old, so Marina has a lot of siblings. The angler mermaids are recognized by their distinct lure, bioluminescent glow, and monstrous mouths. (For an easier time, I made it so the mermaids could close their mouths, so I wouldn't have to draw it open all the time.) Most anglerfish have incredibly poor eyesight, so the mermaids share this trait as well.

Marina is special among her siblings because she was born with no tail. As you can imagine, this makes it incredibly difficult to survive in the ocean. Once she's a few days old, Marina is slowly acclimated to the different pressures of the surface world and taken in by an old couple who owns a fish hatchery. Marina becomes one of the first mermaids in history to have a permanent residence on the surface, and so she's subject to lots of healthcare studies as she grows up. When she reaches the appropriate size, Marina is fitted with custom prosthetics that allow her the same walking power as a human!

And even further down the line, someone makes her a prosthetic tail, which allows her to freely swim like any other mermaid.

Below is the first sketch of her new tail.

You can see it's not connected all the way. My idea for her prosthetics is that she has thigh prosthetics permanently attached to her lower body, so she can switch out the lower part depending on her needs. The prosthetic attachments use the ball end of the thigh, which acts as a knee. She switches between her prosthetics depending on what she's doing, and I usually draw her with running ones on.

Her purpose in the storyline is still a little fuzzy. Marina has two jobs. She works as a hatchery technician for her adoptive parents, and in my notes, it also says she's a sidekick of the superhero kind. I don't know where the superhero bit came from, I think I was going through a phase in high school, but the point is she's a fighter and works for some kind of law enforcement. She had to be physically strong to survive on the surface, so she's buff as hell, and she's proficient in ice magic, which is especially useful in disaster situations.

Here's a few quick sketches of her designs over the years so you can see how she's evolved!

I created this character in 2021 and wasn't very good with complicated designs yet. This is reflected in the sketch, which is more human than mermaid. She has fins on her arms and legs, which are real, and therefore her outfit is limited because I didn't want to cover up her fins. (Please note that in these designs, Marina wears clothes meant for fighting, not everyday wear.) At first, I tried using a light color palette to signify her lawfully neutral alignment, but it came off like I was trying to make her some sort of saint. Marina is supposed to be the tank of the party. Her ice abilities make great shields, and her huge size makes her an easy target. She doesn't need to learn fancy maneuvers if her whole job is to just sit there and take attacks head-on.

With these facts in mind, my 2022 design is much closer to what I want her to be. She's gained prosthetics here, looks sturdier, and has actual armor. The armor is made from seashells and other things taken from the ocean. To be honest, I'm scrapping this design because I don't think the armor flows together well, and I also really don't want to draw seashells over and over again. It's a cool concept, but just not for this. I might reuse the seashell armor for something else. Her staff acts as both a weapon and a guide. Due to her poor eyesight, Marina has been declared legally blind and uses her staff as a cane to move around.

As a backup, Marina is also contracted with a minor water spirit, whom she named Sally after the famous seashell tongue-twister. The water spirit acts similar to a seeing-eye dog and also provides the water she needs to create ice structures when she's fighting. (Marina does not have the ability to create ice out of nothing, and her water manipulation is very poor. Contracting a water spirit was a way to fix her weakness.)

Overall Marina is the strong, silent type. She has the unique privilege of being a person of both water and earth, which has advantages and drawbacks. While she was adopted by a pair of human parents, Marina loves to visit her mother in the depths and show off what she knows. This just got easier when she got fitted for a new tail. Marina loves the town she lives in and protects the people who have accepted her as one of their own with fierce loyalty. She doesn't speak much due to her teeth and mouth shape but has the most elegant handwriting you will ever see. She likes to eat soft things, and her favorite food is pudding. She's allergic to tuna but likes raising them. Her hair has a pink tint and floats on land like it does underwater, but no one really knows why. (It's Sally's fault.) Her childhood friend is a coconut crab she found on the beach, and her parents were too scared to tell her to put it back. Marina is very large, over 6'5", and is expected to grow much larger as time goes on. Right now, she's barely 20 years old.

Everyone knows there will be a time when she must return to the ocean, however. Someday she'll be too big to survive on land.

---

Oh lord, I think that's all for now! (If you read this far, have a cookie. That's some dedication right there.) I kinda just word-vomited up everything I had about her, and honestly, that's not much compared to other characters. Marina was supposed to be one of the side characters in whatever story managed to crawl its way out from under my bed, but now I'm obsessed with drawing her and pushing the boundaries of my character design abilities. I know there are some puzzle pieces I left hanging, but don't worry about it. At some point, I'll get off my ass and flesh out this story world properly.

#pondhead replies #doodles from a pond #seems like a single ask was all i needed to give in #god i'm tired #does any of this make any fucking sense??? #guess i'll read it in the morning and find out #my ocs #art #mermaids

[miss-mania]

lol god fucking kill me I'm an alien weirdo. I posted this earlier and deleted it which I do with a lot of my posts because ??????

I posted it to a discord too, since I'm trying to meet other people who share my interests and not be the total introvert I've been for the last ten years. I was explaining that these are all aspects of my identity that are distinct and yet intrinsically linked. But mostly I just made it so that I could follow it up with this one

it's a joke. it's stupid. it's cringe or fucking whatever. It's a bad joke and a chart that doesn't make sense. I know. I posted it on a discord as a joke and no one got it because I'm fucking weird and I say weird shit!

I spent so long masking my behavior; being a trans woman, neurodivergent in a lot of ways. I spent so long not being me to the point where I couldn't hold it in anymore and it just came spilling out; it wasn't really a choice as much as it was necessity. Now that I'm giving up trying to hide it all and trying to just be more open I'm remembering why I was so afraid to interact with people or be myself; because it really fucking sucks to have people react to everything you say and do like you're a total weirdo. It fucking sucks to agonize over every public expression of self because you don't want people to think you're weird or cringe or just existing incorrectly in general.

And yeah I know this is over the top and I'm reading too much into other people's behavior. As you can plainly see my brain doesn't fucking work the way people want it to.

#mania iceberg chart explained

[doonarose]

Right, so, Good Omens. Legit my favorite book, number one, since I was about 12 or 13 which was… some several years ago (I have tumblr Good Omens posts over ten years old! Gather round wee youngins). Loved the first season, did the book justice, love the actors, love neil, blah blah (a scattering of posts for this from four years ago). Closed circuit for me, though, no work to do, enjoyed, rewatched, enjoyed, left it be, waiting for season two (which I was reasonably convinced was an entirely bad idea, just like I’d been reasonably convinced a TV adaptation of the book was an entirely bad idea, and been happily wrong).

Second season – dunno what I was expecting – but it wasn’t that and I didn’t love it, I was a touch disappointed in it when I first finished it up, because I watched it distracted and having gotten up on the wrong side of the bed or whatever, but sometimes things take a while to settle and find their place in my brain.

We read a book called ‘I for Isobel’ in Year 11 of high school and I hated that book my first read -ranted about how rubbish a piece of literature it was – and my very wise English teacher gently promised she’d convince me otherwise. I still remember the earth-shattering shift in teenaged perception I experienced when I realized I could learn to love a piece of art I had adamantly despised and also, that it made perfect sense that a character such as Isobel could call herself a preposition and be equal parts right and wrong (I was also, most definitely, identifying as a preposition for a while there). Same with Pride and Prejudice, I hated that smug motherfucker and Elizabeth for losing her mind and fawning over him, a different English teacher again told me to sit with it, reread it, examine the angles. Both those books are still in my top ten.

And – don’t panic – at this point, of thinking and watching and thinking, I am enamoured with the second season of Good Omens. Different to season 1, and different to the book, but utterly gorgeous and complex, giddy and romantic and soft but infuriating. I mean, the season isn’t infuriating, in and of itself; it’s very good, except that it sets up our leads to be infuriating, and it does it on purpose and that is infuriating and boy, oh boy, do I love me a ‘shit communication’ trope. Even the dumb teenage humans are bad at communication trope (see: Glee) and the dumb alien and naïve human are bad at communication trope (see: Doctor Who), but, perhaps, especially, the intensely experienced, smart, worldly dumbass angel/demon duo are bad at communication trope. I can buy into the way that season ended in about two dozen different ways, but it certainly made sense to me. Some angles paint Aziraphale as a bit of a dumbass, a bit obtuse, a bit self-centred, and some paint Crowley as the poster-boy for self-sabotaging, woe-is-me, overly-willing martyr. Nothing deal-breakingly bad about those characters, just some very well-fleshed out, obvious flaws bubbling to the top.

So anyway, who the fuck is reading this? I’m writing it despite a ridiculously busy life just at this particular moment in time, because I miss writing. My whole job is writing. Emails, protocols, research proposals, reviews, scientific articles, and I’m just fine at that but Jesus Christ that shit isn’t character or place or emotionally anchored (it is 90% utter bullshit, honestly). We still teach the bloody undergrads to write past-tense, third person, passive voice for fuck’s sakes. We do an assignment where we take marks off for any sort of connotation-laden language and I lose my mind trying to explain to colleagues that their list of connotative words from the 1980s is no longer relevant. That six students choosing to call a particularly clingy amoeba ‘thirsty’ is very connotative and not at all scientific and actually, very much, hilarious.

I’ve known I miss writing for almost a decade. The fleet car I sometimes have to drive locked me out at a service station in the middle of nowhere for two hours. This happened several months ago and it triggered a medium-sized tantrum (for various other reasons) and I therapeutically wrote a 5600 word fictionalized (but honestly, very accurate and quite funny) account of the event. I sent that shit to my boss.    

Anyway, yes, I could write several, long, winding, satisfying fics to follow season two. But that sounds hard and like working in a vacuum and there’s so much source material to align with and so much fanon dissection ahead of me that instead, during all my long drives and boring seminars of the last ten days or so, I’ve been dipping into next kisses.

Because that kiss was rubbish (ohIlovedit). I have theories about that kiss that spin off into complex heaven and hell lore thinking and what all the nuance and foreshadowing mean, but I don’t, just now, have ten days to sit here and think and type (just about the kiss that I’m not at all convinced was primarily an actual kiss). So, I’ve just skipped season 3 (not a typo) and the whole second coming thing, and the whole them not being very happy with each other thing, and also, yes, them being woefully incompatible with each other (and the state of the universe) at the end of Season 1 and all through Season 2 and jumped to the end of Season 3.

It's a warm, sated, luxurious place to inhabit (built on an imperfect foundation of Neil writing the way I think he will, I hope, I’ll beg). They’ll be safe, happy, and openly in love with each other (yes, of course they’ve said it, Season 3 is over so they can’t have not said it – you fool!) and they’ll be talking (#NinaMaggieWisdom). Admittedly they’ll still be pretty shit at the ‘safe’, ‘happy’ and ‘talking’ bits, but doing quite reasonable at the ‘openly being in love thing’, actually.   

And I can totally buy into the ‘angels have no genitals’ thinking or the ‘angels have no gender’ thinking or the ‘angels are asexual’ thinking, that all makes a great deal of sense to me and can be written well, and I can read and enjoy (and could certainly see Season 3 play out like any of these). But I know I would really, really, struggle with those characters (and dare I say, with those actors (stop it)) and my own brain wiring and projection, with trying to not make them romantic.

So I’ve started to mentally play it out romantically. And then tactile. Which became touch-starved, touch-desperate, and all ‘pleasures of the flesh’ and ‘enjoying the human things’. Which, yes, of course, became sexual (do you not know me at all?) but calm down, please (I’m talking to me, lbh).

Anyhow. Next kisses, because that first one shouldn’t count. The timings are malleable, the order of 3-7 are interchangeable. There’s structure and dialogue (and choreography!) for all of them.

The second time (aka the first time it’s overwhelmingly, categorically right, albeit still complicated, and not at all as straightforward as it should be).

The third time (aka not really the third time because they don’t – they can’t – because it’s extremely awkward and weird, maybe they’ll never do it again).

The fourth time (aka, the first time since it was awkward that it’s not awkward, thank goodness).

The eleventh time (aka it’s like in the movies, there’s a rainstorm and they get wet and have to take shelter under an awning, oh my).

The twenty first time (aka the time someone thinks this is an appropriate way to inform their neighbours).

The twenty-fifth time (aka the first time they do it without thinking about doing it).

The forty first time (aka actually this time a bit more than kissing and it’s all together too good for Crowley (it’s not what you think, honest)).

The seventy third time (aka actually this time quite a bit more than kissing and it’s all together too good for Aziraphale (it’s totally what you think)).

I’m dumping this here after a long, personal post, because that way I can delete it and almost no one will have seen it. But it reads too well behind my eyes to not share (but I’m still tagging it because I’m a mysterious enigma of a needy bitch). A lot of this I came up with while driving and I had to stop myself from pulling over on a highway to scribble things down and that felling is gorgeous and so missed. So, I’m holding onto it for tonight by releasing a little bit of it into an abandoned, dormant blog, that seems to have a bunch of ghosts around.

I have scrawled notes from yesterday’s symposium to transcribe and flesh out. And tomorrow I’m getting a new couch delivered.

#doonas fic #personal #good omens fic adjacent #good omens spoilers #fic writing #imagine if i actually grit my teeth and wrote the damn thing #is it time to get an ao3 account

[yautjalover]

This isn’t getting the love it deserves, so I’m putting this Scar/Lex fic here for everyone to see. Please reblog if you like it! I’ll post the next part when I’m not busy with work.

Apologies for the formatting. Pasting writing on here is so hard to get the formatting to be consistent. I just don’t get it. I tried to fix it. :/

SFW. No content warnings necessary.

Word count: 4,142

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bouvetøya (Pt. 1)

1/2

"Again."

Lex climbed on her feet, ignoring the sweat that poured down her face. The mat beneath their feet had somehow absorbed the secretions each time she had hit the mat. Down and down she went, again and again.

Her body was sore. There was no part of her that had been spared. Bruises peppered her skin in varying shades. The muscles in her arms were sore from taking the brunt of blocking his attacks.

He telegraphed them so carefully, but she still missed them when he would change tactics without warning. His moves were fast even though he had slowed down his attacks considerably.

"Time out!" She groaned when he delivered a well placed swipe at her legs.

Lying on the mat, she closed her eyes and tried to take in deep lungfuls of air. It didn't seem like she could get enough.

Scar was an amazing teacher but he didn't know when to take a break. He was like a living machine. He could go on for hours and hours. The...Yautja...as she had learned he was...had ten times the energy she would ever have.

He appeared above her with his arms folded across his wide chest. His muscles bulged with the simple action and she had to focus on his face, that familiar coil forming in her lower belly.

It was new.

This reaction to him.

Instead of picturing those hands on her when they sparred, she had begun to see them exploring her body in a more...carnal activity. She began to wonder how it would feel to have that hard muscular body on top of her. This was...not right...but so right somehow.

It was just another thing that didn't make sense in her new life living with aliens.

"What?"

He had said something but her mind had been in other places.

"That is all for the lesson today." Those yellow eyes stared at her with irritation.

"I'm doing my best, Scar." He huffed a breath of annoyance. His real name was jibberish to her still, so Scar it was. The scar on his forehead was another reminder of what Lex had been through almost a year ago. "I'm sorry for disappointing you."

His expression softened as he helped her to her feet. Her breath hitched slightly when his rough hand patted her on the shoulder gently.

If he had noticed her reaction to his touch, he was pretty damn good at ignoring it. "In time you will improve."

His English was rough and hard to understand, but she was grateful for his attempts. She met him half way with, "I am trying."

"Try harder."

"I'm at my limit."

"If only you could see what I see." Those were his parting words as he turned to leave, clearly not having broken a sweat.

Watching him go was a sight she liked to watch. The muscles in his back flexed with every step, showing off how built he was. For an alien, he sure reminded her of one of those old marble statues.

An image of muscled perfection.

Pretty soon she was alone in the training room. The others on the ship were busy with some sort of banquet for the return of the newly blooded Yautja. Scar had pulled her from her lonesome spot for a training session.

His nearness made her heart stutter in a good way. She also had come to enjoy his company. When he wasn't being so uptight, he made a good companion.

Perhaps that was where her attraction for him bloomed. Or...it was Bouvetøya.

Just thinking of that damn island brought back the memories of those screeching black things.

As she gathered her water skin and made her way to the public showers, she remembered the harrowing experience of trying to get out of that pyramid. Scar and her had barely made it out alive. They had been lucky, and quick enough. Together they had worked to kill the bug Queen.

Scar called it a candy amedha. She still couldn't quite grasp the syllables but to herself she called them the bugs. That's all they were. Black beetle-like bugs that dragged their victims off into the darkness.

Everyone who had been in there with her had died. Everyone but her and Scar.

Somehow, one of those spider things had infected him and he had barely survived the surgery. It had taken just a few days of recovery, however, and he was back on his feet. His "clan leader" had tasked him with her training.

She was now his burden.

The more she grasped his difficult language, the more it became apparent that his fellow clan members saw her as a pet. She had helped to kill the Queen, but their pride wouldn't accept it. Even he barely mentioned it. His refusal to do so was wearing on her mentally.

Maybe she was a pet after all. She hoped for the sake of her heart that he didn't see her like that.

As crazy as it was...she wanted him to see her for the strong woman she was slowly becoming. Lex knew she was already strong, she knew that from years leading expeditions in polar and isolated regions, but she wanted him to actually see her. Wanted him to look at her the way he would when a female Yautja showed him attention.

He would puff his chest out like a preening bird and posture to make himself bigger. Many times he had interrupted their training sessions to go show off for a female with wandering eyes.

She snorted, remembering how hard he tried once.

It was downright comical. He didn't need to do anything but stand there and impress Lex. There wasn't a single thing that didn't impress her about him. These females were missing out.

Sorely.

They didn't see what she saw.

Lex reached the public bathing room and had just entered the dark, steamy entrance when she froze in her tracks.

There, standing in all his naked glory, was the muse of her thoughts. He had just removed his loincloth and was crouched low to test the water with his fingers. His long tubular black dreadlocs fell a little past his shoulders and shined even in the low light. Seeing his sculpted body on full display made that heat coil in her lower belly.

Just as he began to turn around she fled the room. She practically ran and headed in the direction to her tiny quarters. On the way out she collided violently with the edge of the doorway in her rush to escape.

Doing without a shower right now would have to make due, despite how gross she felt. Anything to avoid letting those carnal thoughts further take root. When some time had passed, she would go and clean up, and hopefully by then the bathing room would be empty again. There was no way in hell that she would get naked around him.

She hoped to God that he couldn't smell her hormones. Surely they were screaming that she wanted to have sex with him. Hopefully none of the Yautja could smell it, but she was beginning to lose hope about that. In her peripheral vision she would see them turn to look at her and scent the air, their mandibles spreading open.

It was truly embarrassing.

If they could smell it then he could smell it.

Lex was a grown woman and felt like a horny teenager all over again. If her mother hadn't passed a few years prior, then she likely would've been scolding her for avoiding the alien man rather than being direct and telling him she wanted him. Her mom was a very forward and blunt woman, so she would've nagged her about.

Oh, how she missed her. She missed her dad, too.

Thinking of family helped to ground her in the present and not get swept up in the process of falling in love with an alien. An alien who likely would never return those sentiments. She was small compared to one of their females, so she'd likely get hurt in the "mating" anyways.

After only being on the ship for two days she had walked on a couple beating the crap out of each other. The male managed to force the female into submission and that was when she left.

The sight was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Their version of foreplay was a display of strength and power. That was something she never could do. Scar would always be stronger than her, sure, but would he think to be careful with her if it ever came to it? Would he be gentle as he had been in their training sessions?

Getting fingered was totally out of the question with those claws of his. Just thinking about them shoved inside was both thrilling and worrisome. There was a lot of delicate tissue down there!

Lex spent her time pacing around her tiny room until she made the trip back to the bathing room. Seeing that it was safe and clear, she disrobed and sank into the pool-sized tub.

A good soak solved everything.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

Lex's muscles worked hard as she pulled herself up to set her foot on the closest foothold. A quick glance down showed that she had to be at least two stories high by now. The room was still empty so she was able to freely concentrate.

She needed it.

Free soloing was dangerous.

There was no margin for error. Every move had to be precise and carefully executed. Utter patience was vital. Many years had passed since she had free soloed.

The last time had been El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in 2001, prior to the events of that September. After that, it was difficult to get around by plane for obvious reasons, so her travels to various places around the world to climb or lead expeditions had been limited.

After the day's events...Lex needed this.

She was sluggish and awkward in combat but this was where she shined. Her skills were mountaineering, ice, rock climbing, and navigating dangerous terrain — not fighting. The fact that the Yautja even had a rock climbing wall was exciting. It was a chance to push herself to the limit in a familiar setting.

Yautja were huge compared to her, so the placements of the foot holds were wide apart, but she never backed down from a challenge. As a young adult she had scaled mountains people dreamed of.

This was just another challenge to tackle and overcome. A challenge was forcing her to use every ounce of her ingenuity and skill with climbing. There was no safety harness, no clips, no helmet, and no chalk. It was entirely on her own strength to scale it.

If only Scar could see her doing something she was actually good at. Maybe then he would look at her the way she looked at him...

Sighing to herself, she focused on the task at hand. A wandering mind could mean death with no gear. There could be no fuck ups.

Her hand found the next closest hold and then she quickly found the next hold for her foot. Up she climbed, her blood singing with the challenge. The muscles in her body ached, but it was a good ache. That kind of ache that she craved. She needed it.

Anything to distract from Scar.

"That blind alien can shove it where the sun don't shine." Lex muttered out loud. "I'll show that blind asshole. I'm like Beyoncé. I don't need any man or anybody!"

The anger and hurt bubbling within rose higher and higher, fueling her strength. All of her mixed emotions pushed her to keep going. Her body sang from the intense workout.

"As my dad always said, 'Instead of worrying how hard it gets, climb that mountain. Overcome it!' I may not ever get the attention from him I crave, but I will endure." Higher and higher she climbed, fast approaching her destination, the top of the climbing wall.

At last, she propelled herself up and onto the top, turning to survey the huge training room. The lights were dim due to the night cycle, the warm air slick on her skin, and the scent of victory hanging in a cloud above the woman. Lex stood tall and smiled to herself.

"There is no mountain I cannot climb, for I will come out on top of it."

As someone had once told her, the best view comes after the hardest climb.

For a while she sat on the wide black top of the wall, letting her body rest up for the climb back down. She had climbed the wall in her sports bra and underwear since the training room was always a bit hot and she needed to be able to move freely. Doing it damn near naked had made it much easier.

It was in the middle of the "night" so the ship was quiet and the majority of activity was minimal at best. No one trained at night, so she would take the opportunity to slip in extra training.

Losing a bit of sleep sucked but at least she could push herself to prove she was worthy of Scar's attention. Nighttime had also always been when she was most productive. This time of day was relaxing and there was no one to bug her.

Peaceful was the night.

Deciding that she had rested long enough, she pulled the rope she had brought with her from the clip at her waist and attached one end securely to a hook near the edge of the wall while the other end fell freely to the floor. She got a good grip of the rope, a thick black material, and began her descent. It was slow and a long way down but eventually she got to the point where she ran out of rope.

Below her was seven or so feet of free fall. Such a drop was sure to potentially hurt her ankles, but she took the chance and kept going until the very end of the rope.

Taking a deep breath, she angled her body at the right angle and let go. For a few seconds she fell, the ground quickly rushing up in her face. At the last few moments she rolled and landed in a tuck & roll where she was able to pop up in a squat on the ground safe.

"Nailed it." Breathed Lex in relief.

She yanked the rope and sent it falling in a heap; the knot she used easily undone when pulled a certain way. Once she had it wound up and neatly tied, she placed it back on a shelf where she had found it.

To make the most of her time she moved on to practicing the maneuvers Scar had been drilling over the past week and a half...or was it two? Time was difficult to tell with no clocks and only her busted up watch. The days had started to blend together. Most of her time had been spent training and learning the language. Free time was typically nonexistent during the day.

Over and over she slowly went through the right motions, making sure she had them absolutely right.

Scar had frequently told her that in a real fight for her life there would be no margin for error. Much like when free soloing, every move had to be carefully calculated.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

A while had passed as she practiced the moves over and over again. Her body was nearing its limit. It felt like the more she repeated the moves, the more she struggled. Eventually she found herself too tired to go on and after gathering her water skin she made the long trek back to her quarters.

The ship's hallway was dimly lit, strips of red lights near the floor casted weird shadows.

After surviving the pyramid on Bouvetøya she hated the shadows and what they could hide. Even with her being on a spaceship full of Yautja, literal experts with killing them, she could still hear the hissing. Sebastian had been dragged to his death by those things.

Every last one of them.

Gone.

Because of those things.

Those...kiande amedha.

The serpents.

As if her mood wasn't bad enough, as soon as she rounded the corner where her room was, Scar was waiting by her door. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossing over his chest, watching her approach.

She couldn't help the flutter of her heart at the sight of him. Like always he looked magnificent. No part of him that wasn't bulging with muscle. A simple black loincloth covered his groin as her only saving grace of having to wonder what he hid under there.

"H-Hi, Scar." Lex keyed in the code for her quarters, glancing up at him as he loomed over her. She motioned inside with a wave of her hand, "Would you like to come in?"

He had yet to say a word, nodding. And so he followed as she entered the room, the futuristic door sliding shut behind Scar.

She felt bad that she only had her bed for him to sit on. It also unnerved her that he had never seen her so...naked. Damn near nude! The clothing she wore was minimal and scant.

Those yellow eyes of his lingered on her form as she moved items around for him to sit. He said some words under his breath that she didn't understand when she told him to take a seat.

"Back on Earth, I'd be able to be a better host, so my apologies."

Scar cocked his head to the side in question, "I do not understand."

Right...his customs are way different than my own...

Tentatively she sat next to him, wrapping a fur around herself to cover her scantily clad body. "Well, on Earth, in the...uhh...clan I'm in...we would offer a drink or something to eat for guests. It's considered polite to make your guests feel comfortable. That's why I apologized. It's...habit." She worked to comb her hair, now down to her shoulder blades, and brought it into a ponytail.

He was silent as he soaked in her words. After a few moments he grunted.

He was a man of few words.

"Yautja offer c'ntlip, an alcoholic beverage." His deep voice was rough around the edges but she didn't mind. It was him.

"Ah, well, humans only offer alcohol when we want to have a good time."

Another grunt.

"What's on your mind, Scar?" Being careful with his claws, she took his large hand in her small and intertwined their fingers.

The sight was almost comical since his hand dwarfed hers by a lot, but she liked the difference. It was unique and something she had come to not mind so much. Such a size difference didn't matter.

A few of his long black locs fell forward over his broad shoulders as he leaned towards her. His body was angled towards her as he reached out to stroke the mark on her cheek, the very same one he had placed there.

Gentle purring rumbled in his great chest as he inched closer. The nearness of his body to hers when they weren't sparring made her blood sing with happiness. Whether he noticed or not, he didn't show. He continued to stroke her cheek gently, his finger trailing down her jaw and delicate neck. Left behind in the wake of his touch were goosebumps.

Lex held her breath as he leaned ever closer.

"Despite what you think, you are improving. You have come a long way, Alexa." For some reason his voice sounded like a purr, deep and growly. Her body reacted just as expected, that coil tightening in her lower belly.

Scar continued to speak, his eyes widening so slightly that she didn't notice. "You will never be as strong as Yautja, but your strength lies in your cunning and small stature. Learn to be confident in that and you will go far."

She wanted to ask why he continued to openly flirt with females if he thought so much about her.

Why do you ignore my want for you in the favor of them? Am I not good enough after all?

"Perhaps...one day I can compete with the females of your kind."

Ha! Take that, Scar!

The big oaf drew back and turned his gaze to anywhere but her. There was a slight tinge of green to his concave cheeks, his hand tugging free of hers so he could scratch as his crest. She had known him long enough now to notice he did that when he was nervous or feeling awkward.

A few times during training sessions, he had pinned her down in...intimate positions. Per usual, her body reacted sexually and her hips had grinded against him much to her embarrassment. His reaction had been to freeze, his body pressing against hers for just a moment before he backed off. Naturally, she wanted to tug on his long locs, the few that had fallen over her shoulders, and bring him closer.

The thought was gone in a flash, however, when he removed himself from the situation. There had been a lot of apologizing and lying about it being a "natural reaction for human females". Any white lie she could think of to save the embarrassment.

"Yautja females are..." he continued in his native tongue, possibly trying to find the right words.

Once again Alex tried to meet him halfway by speaking in his language to the best of her ability.

"Larger?"

"Sei'i, but there is another word I seek."

"Scary? Mean? Attractive? Funny?"

Scar growled in frustration, his mandibles twitching and causing his tusks to make that familiar clicking noise.

"They are complicated." His broad shoulders sagged in relief and finding the word he wanted. "You, Lex, are not."

Complicated? What's that supposed to mean?

Lex racked her brain for what he could possibly mean by that and was about to ask him but he stood up abruptly. His face looked...tense? Flustered?

She was still learning how to read his face. The way he and his kind showed emotions was subtle and different than she was used to. Closely watching his face for the subtleties helped to solve that.

Understanding him better was why she had found herself falling for him. He and his kind were so much...deeper than she had thought. This large alien that was both sure and unsure of himself was adorable in his own way. She couldn't help finding his sudden nervousness cute. He was like an overgrown cat.

Aloof.

Scar quickly made his way to the door. His hand was over the door panel to open it when she stopped him, her hand catching his hand. He paused to look down at her, chittering in question.

"Wait, you don't have to leave. You just got here!" Lex smiled, running her fingers gently across his palm.

The large alien turned to chirrup at her, his eyes bright as he stood there. "It is late. I must rest."

"I would be happy if you stayed with me for the night, hun."

His purred like a giant cat as he stood there weighing the options. He chittered to himself with words she didn't know, talking to himself it seemed. She was hoping he would stay for the night so she could snuggle with him.

Too bad he disappointed her by ultimately saying no, his long black locs swishing back and forth as he shook his head.

"I cannot. Sleep well, Lex." He waved his hand over the access panel and swiftly made his exit.

Lex sat on her bed with a defeated sigh. She had been so close to enjoying his company a little longer, but like usual, he turned her down and made his great escape.

His words had her questioning if maybe she was misunderstanding his actions. If he had such nice words to say about her, then what was he doing trying to get the attention of female Yautja and ignoring the obvious signs she wanted him? Was there some cultural divide she wasn't aware of? Surely, that had to be the issue.

She normally was great with men; all except this one.

An alien man.

Groaning in frustration, she lied on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She decided to sleep in what she wore and snuggled beneath the large fur pelt that acted as a warm blanket. Sleep was in order before she could solve the mystery of Scar.

#alien vs predator #avp #scarxlex #scar and alexa #yautja #predator #yautjalover #fanfic #monster romance #interspecies romance #teratophillia #monster fucker #alien

[flyfish1999]

AO3 tag game \o/ !!!

thank youuu for tagging me @ragecndybars !!! best of luck with your wips ^_^ !!!!!!!!! without further ado ...

How many works do you have on AO3? 103 !! \o/ !!! i hit the 100 mark just at the end of december .. and then didn't post all january lol ^_^

What's your total AO3 word count? only 97,635 ! pretty unsurprising, everything i write tends to be a oneshot, and very short oneshots at that ! not even an average of 1000 words per fic though ehehe ; ; !

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? 33 ! ofc this is only ao3's number, some of these count for the same fic being tagged with multiple series tags, but (ignoring my .. eugh ... 6 2020 original work posts i refuse to look at ...) my top fandoms are: persona 3 [40] , persona 5 [15] , trauma center [8] , persona 4 [6] , pokemon [5] ! wow ... i'm honestly surprised, but i feel like i shouldn't be ^_^;;

Top five fics by kudos: all of these are from over three years ago, so i don't remember them very well ^_^;; and i'm kind of scared to reread them now, but here goes: we won't slip through your fingers - 763 kudos ! a cute p5 found family fic with akira, sojiro and futaba ^_^ i still see this pop up in my daily kudos email every so often ! it seems like the type of thing i like reading myself for p5, so i'm not surprised :p Indistinct and Incomprehensible - 515 kudos ! another p5 sakura family fic (sensing a theme?) but this time interrogation room flavoured ! i've always loved the interrogation room hook, probably because i'm such a huge fan of whump fic ^_^;; i'll never forget when a friend excitedly messaged me saying she was about to send me a great interrogation room fic .. only to realise it was mine :p The Days When My Father's Here - 402 kudos ! another- I PROMISE I DON'T ONLY WRITE P5 SAKURA FAMILY FIC LOL ...! cute and short, a shortcake biscuit of a read imo :3c (he left the town long before) yet his house is still standing in the same place - 400 kudos ! akira talking tatsujun ... i've always liked this premise, even as i tend to lean into the angstier side of p2 nowadays ^_^ but no matter what, i have always been a long title connoisseur ... i hope it's toned down in recent years ehehe ! Unconventional Naming Ceremony - 275 kudos ! yeah ... the truth come out ... i used to be a huge fan of the sonic movie >_< i was literally on the phone to my friend the other day getting bullied about how much i used to like it lol !!!!!!! they didn't even know me then ... c'mon ... i hope this is a cute fic. i'm too scared to touch it. lol.

Do you respond to comments? i try to as much as i can !!! sometimes i forget, and sometimes i just don't have anything i might want to say other than thank you for commenting, but all of them mean so much to me ^_^ rereading comments is probably about 40% of my fuel ehehe

What's the fic with the angstiest ending you've ever written? wow ...! that's difficult ! even though i write lots of angsty fic, i am a freak who can find joy in anything. the jolliest guy you could say. a mochizuki fan, possibly. in recent memory, i'd say disappearance, an alien heart beat ... even shorter than usual, but miserable the whole way through . ryoji and minato sit in a room and don't say anything. yaaaay ! (fun fact! it is partially based on a feeling i used to get when me and my ex used to sit in my room with the lights off but the tv on standby, because the overhead light was too harsh. i love watching people move under light; i love the sound of electronics that have been on for too long)

Do you write crossovers? not really ?! they're fun for crackfics, but i don't really honestly explore them that often. maybe i should !

Have you ever gotten hate on a fic? i .... don't think so ! i used to get hate anons when i was younger + stupider because i was quite literally asking for it -_-;; but rage -> if you see this, that zelda comment screenie you posted made me laugh for literally ten minutes [link]

Do you write smut? i would really like to !!!!!!! but i'm so shy >_< !!! but also i worry .. i did once, for OCs of mine, and sent it to a friend ... who immediately sent back laughing that it was 98% inner monologue, 2% actual smut .. which tracks for me lol !

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i sure hope not !

Have you ever had a fic translated? YES !!!!!!! it's always been my dream ^_^ !!! and just this year i had and then he looked right through me, as if i wasn't there translated into russian by a very kind regular commenter !!! if you see this: thank you so much, it means the world to me !!! apparently it was for a friend of theirs, who is a new fan of p3 due to the widespread translations of reload, and they really liked it ^_^ it makes me so happy to think that reload can really extend p3's reach and even more people can get a chance to experience it ...

What’s your all-time favorite ship? ryomina ofc ^_^;; ! kind of topical, but i recently scored the old kotobukiya minato figure that came with the episode "luck" drama cd ! i'll never stop talking about it, but reading episode luck's translations on the gekkouhigh livejournal is what made me love ryomina, and cemented my love of p3 as a whole ... such sweet memories ehehe

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? mostly things that were born of a specific emotion i was feeling when i drafted it, and don't really want to feel again if i can help it, or at least on purpose. it makes me pretty sad that i feel some of my most impactful work has come out of me feeling ... well, pretty sad ! so i just work harder every day to write just as well, if not better, than things i've written in that state :]

What are your writing strengths? aaa ... i think i'm good at laying running metaphors in a fic (which i love hearing when @p3ta says them back to me ^_^ !!!!!!!!!!!!) if that makes sense ?!?! probably because i love edgar wright movies .. callback fan writes callbacks eternally like the ouroboros lol :p i'm sisyphean !

What are your writing weaknesses? i need to buckle down and write longer fics goddamn it !!!!!!!!!! my latest work, the best beast ever is a boy you know, is also my longest work to date, at a measly 3,657 words. but i love it so much, and it's so amazing what i can do with just 2000 words more than i'm used to ! hopefully i can keep it up ^_^

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fics? it's interesting, and really enjoyable when done well (looking at some bebe writers tbh !!!!!) ... buuut, of course, it can also fall flat ! kind of related, but the closest i've ever gotten to something like this is using japanese honorifics . i know it's a little divisive, but i like it a lot when used responsibly (as i try to) ^_^;; ! overuse of stuff like -sama totally makes me feel like i'm about to tab into ouran high school host club part 1 of 13 on youtube though lol

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? gravity falls, on a long abandoned ff.net account ! you know i was one of those guys writing it directly into the post box :]

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written so far? it's cheating, but i have two and an honourable mention. i am so happy to have returned to writing persona 3 fic ... it is one of my favourite things ^_^ first of all: alone but sane . alone but sane could be considered my magnum opus so to speak lol ... it is just one of those ideas that is so perfect. i don't know ... i am in many ways my own biggest fan. i do ofc owe my inspiration for it to @mymp3, the best messiah recipe 2008 attendee ^_^ i am so glad we're friends now :p second of all: when you're hollowed out and empty !!!! i hope to write many more fuuka and ryoji fics this year . she is so kind and so reaching in her kindness ... i aim to be more like her ..! fuuka asks, "i wonder what ryoji's doing... do you think he's still crying, like before?" and i write and write and write at last .. my honourable mention! my only zombieland saga fic, and you don't seem to understand (a shame, you seemed an honest man) .. i don't have anything to say here .. zls is a tragedy . to me

again, thanks for tagging me \o/ !!! this is ofc open to anyone who might want to play !!!! i hope you're all having a nice day :]c

#long post #:p #ty if you read to the end ehehe !

[containatrocity]

THE DIRGE: OLEANDER "OCTOBER ROULETTE" GRIMM

(That man he's a monster!) Made a deal with the demons, he's a cold hearted heathen- yeah it's gunpowder season.

"October Roulette. Any name I used to have hardly matters anymore, because that's the only one anybody bothers to pay any lip service. I'm 48 years old and hail from Georgia, where I started my career as a musician at 18 years old. As the frontman for Autumn's Gamblers I made my name as a temperamental, over the top man, eventually alienating my bandmates and going solo as Odd Revolver. I'm technically a visitor, living in the commune since my arrival and largely keeping to myself and among my own interests. I do not currently hold employment and likely won't, until forced to act. As a man bent on vices and violence, it's a little rude to ask me to narrow down my absolute favorite- but blood spilled in service of my own personal gain has always been the hardest habit to kick."

Name: Oleander Grimm- though he's known entirely by his stage name, October Roulette.

Aliases: Ock, Toby, Ten, TKO

Age: 48 (July 17th)

Sexuality/Gender: pansexual cis male

Personality: self-servicing and cruel, October Roulette has built his empire off the backs of people too foolish to best him at his own game. Despite his clear talent for music and gift of gab, it's hustles and foul play that he's benefited from the most- and these things inform his personality. Boisterous, loud, and commanding both in stature and engagement with the world at large, October's charisma belies a rather mean-spirited layer just under the surface. He'd much sooner watch somebody grovel for his attention than offer a kindness, and it's a history in the tabloids and gossip rags since the 90s that's fed his ego. He's violent to a fault, eager to put his fists and firearms to work when the opportunity arises, and a game of chance played against October Roulette oft ends poorly- like the Russian style of his namesake.

Occupation: currently unemployed, former rockstar as Odd Revolver and the frontman of Autumn's Gamblers.

Affiliations: the commune, Quinn

Scent Profile: clove cigarettes and heady, musky cologne, there's a lingering scent of gunpowder and copper, something subtly sweet that turns the stomach unpleasantly- it feels disingenuous- meant to draw you in like honey-like a flytrap.

Aesthetic: Bitter black coffee in a cup stained with blood, ceramic streaked sanguine and too many rings dotted with gore. Absent sips and sigilcraft- thy art is murder- in blood your pact paid due. A large furred coat and an ornate revolver, your namesake, a tool- it feels impersonal, now. Blood on hands on rings on neck. Stained red. Guitar strings and lyric sheets. The devil left Georgia in your body. You do death's will now. A dirge. A song for the dead. It mourns not- through you, it is a bellowing scream.

Opened up his eyes with a double-edged blade, time to pay the price for the choices that he made, whispers in his head slowly tapping on his brain- Praying to a God that he's never gonna face.

CHAPTER ONE: LIFE IN HUNTSVILLE POST ARRIVAL.

October has few duties beyond being perceived as what he is, massive, deadly, dangerous. It is his presence that encourages second thoughts in those who might choose to 'put an end' to the talk of the creatures in the woods demanding sacrifice to allow the townspeople to roam free, and it is his freedom to behave in his typical capacity, a bully and a brute that keeps him loyal to the cause- He is an imposing, monstrous figure, and he is never much more than a shout of his name away from an act of brutality in service of his ultimate goal: Keeping Huntsville locked away, with himself and a chosen few at the helm. He doesn't need power, he does not seek to lead, he wants only to do what he's done since he was a boy. To kill. To consume. To hunt those lesser than him in service of his pacts with things more evil than he could ever hope to grasp.

He is charismatic, despite this, and endearing when he must be, charming enough to pull strings, famous enough prior to his time in Huntsville to prey upon those weak enough to fall victim to the glitz and glamour of perceived celebrity- It's left him a tumultuous figure, to say the least, love or hate him, October is undeniable, commanding a room when he enters and using that presence to bolster the words of someone who may lead to the town's undoing.

#huntsvilleintro #o.aesthetic #o.musings #o.threads #o.bio #o.music #o.headcanons #Death Knell;

[jumpscaregoose]

I finished the Shaman King again

loserbrain thoughts under cut because it's me and shaman king and I am very Normal about it (also spoilers duh but you probably already know them all)

so ya boi rewatched shaman king this past month or so.

realized I'd never actually done that (I'd rewatched it with friends or went through my favourite episodes but I'd never went through it again start to finish). I told myself no skipsies but I broke that rule almost immediately and I did skip some parts (sorry episode eight you're just boring to me).

anyways my general thoughts

I appreciate this silly little ghost show more every time I watch it it's just really good. my enjoyment has not decreased in the slightest. found myself understanding some parts I thought were lackluster before because for like a year I was a dumbass and didn't get that It's a Metaphor, You Idiot. the text literally spells out "this is a metaphor for a person's mindset and strength of will" like every 3 seconds and I just. ignored it I guess??? turns out a lot of stuff makes more sense if you look at it less like smashing two action figures together and more as mushy brain stuff. who could have ever possibly guessed that (not past me). thought it was overall very very good and its lackluster parts (random aliens a la midichlorians I'm looking at you) were made up for by its great parts (basically everything else).

went into the last episode to try and iron out my thoughts on the ending (went from hating it on my first watch to tolerating it on subsequent watches) and I think it is consistently decent. could have used some more episodes and is just really confusing if you're not a pathetic loser nerd who can Well Actually it. I like it a lil bit. thought I'd reconciled my feelings about renmei to "my god that could have been so good we were ROBBED if they'd explained how this HAPPENED it would have been SO GOOD" but now it's "the same thing as before except I'm angry and yelling now" because it's true renmei could have been great and I mourn the loss of that every day. episode 51 remains the best episode (despite the midichlorian aliens) purely for the hao awakening scene. episode 50 is fun because major character revelation 2 episodes before the end and I think that's Neat (affectionate).

telling you all that one time a while back I watched the Bear Episode and wanted to fact check if there would actually be bears there and I asked my friends who live in Colorado and they thought I didn't think bears lived in Colorado.

FINALLY figured out all the symbolism behind the training in hell arc. have had a theory that the scenery represented Funky Brain Stuff™ but just. couldn't. understand. joco's part. sat down and thought about it for a bit and realized I forgot that the themes of Dante's Divine Comedy (Rodin's Gates of Hell is there and all) where the same as those happening for that part of the story and focused on the floating islands for eight months like an idiot. should probably make another post with my interpretations of hell stuff because I'm fairly confident I get it and also it's cool.

appreciate hao even more after this rewatch he's an excellent antagonist and also my precious meow meow. will not elaborate go read this.

ost does funky stuff with leitmotif sometimes but also I like it

generally forgot that I actually like quite a bit of early shaman king. my brain defaulted to episode six is fantastic and forgot about the rest. it's very nostalgic to me which is weird because I first watched it last year but it's true don't fight me I'll win.

top ten episodes for me are 51, 40, 6, 15, 45, 9, 50, 47, 27, 2 (most favourite first, with no bias towards anyone at ALL).

shaman king really good me really likey

might actually watch the 2001 version if pleaded with (it is my archnemesis)

#shaman king #long post #might be able to get someone else to watch it soon #they said it was on their watchlist and I am reasonably persuasive #there was a lot of yelling during this rewatch #mostly of nondescript IT'S SO GOOD varieties #love this show so much it's beyond words

[dancingbabya]

I made a post on how I think Superman, Clark Kent, would enjoy tea over coffee. And that got me thinking on other things.

Point 1) Clark knows the times and dates of every flea market and farmers market in and around Metropolis!

Why? He grew up on a farm and I feel like he’d be more then welcome to the idea of supporting farms in the area where he lives to fill in for anything his parents can’t send to him. There are all those pesky restrictions on what you can and can’t send through the mail.

Point 2) I dunno why but I feel like Clark would change accents when he gets upset.

Now let’s think about this. On tiktok Pandared mentioned the new Jersey accent for those that live in Gotham. Because that’s where canonically Gotham city is located. So if that’s the case then Metropolis is in New York. We as people would adapt to where we live and sometimes that is displayed in our speech. So after some time Clark would pick up a kind of New York accent, but if you can get him mad enough you will not understand what he is saying because he’s speaking so fast on top of the southern accent that would come out.

I’m actually surprised by how much I’m focusing on Superman considering my interest for the past seven or six years has solely been batman and anything I could find on him.

Can I just say it’s bullshit that they don’t have like their localized accents. I’m guessing it’s because the fictional cities in the DC universe are supposed to be Anywhere-ity USA, which is just bullshit.

Cause like a lot of people have come to the conclusion that. Metropolis is in New York, Gotham is in New Jersey, Starling city and Jump city are in California (jump city specifically because the other tower was referred to as titans East, you cannot change my mind unless you would like to point me to a place where it says otherwise), Central City is in the mid west (I have the exact location written somewhere but I really should type it.) and so on and so forth.

But it would be more realistic for them to have localized accents.

Also I die on the hill that is Bruce wouldn’t have a concrete accent he’d have a hint of one he would probably have mimicked certain phrases that Alfred said when he was child because children do that, they slip out from time to time. Because the general time that would have for kids to pick up an accent starts from when they’re a child learning how to speak, you can learn accents, but Bruce’s parents died when he was around ten years old his accent was already set.

Concerning the other kids I agree: Jason, Tim, Duke, and Steph as Gothimites should absolutely have a New Jersey accent. They grow up in that city.

Point 3) circling back to Clark’s parents, can you imagine an alien baby who doesn’t know how to regulate his strength? Because I feel like everyone would be worried about getting hurt by Clark.

Clark has such a happy backstory –I know being raised by someone a different species than you after your home planet was destroyed isn’t happy but bear with me– unlike some of the super heroes Clark was probably the one raised with the most love and kindness. Not that he would ever realize that somethings different about him the Kent’s tell him that they found him and didn’t give birth to him, but in every iteration I’ve seen so far he kind of accepts it. But here’s the thing that is bothering me how did Clark learn to regulate his strength as not to cause harm to the humans around him?

Did they have an accidents with him accidentally using his powers or did he learn them all on accident?

I feel like Clark would try to help his ma in the kitchen and accidentally cut his hand and the knife breaks instead of his skin, because duh, and his ma is trying to figure out how to come figure out the best way to explain this to her child.

What if he accidentally messed up a field because he sent the crops into early winter with his frost breath?

I find all these questions to be super important for know reason than I’m curious what everyone else thinks is the answer. I don’t want to hear “it’s his child hood we don’t care about that”

Because I think the funniest story about batman was that he holds a grudge against Alfred for getting him the wrong sword for his birthday one year. The reason was because at the time Bruce was too small to receive the one he wanted, he still got a sword for his birthday it was just slightly smaller and better for his stature at the time.

Next concerning Superman’s kids. Disagree with me if you want but I think that he would just end up with the two boys. Like the Superman family thing… yeah you have Kara and that’s pretty much it because you know the planet was wiped out. The only way is accept any other Kryptonians existing would be tears in the space time continuum. Because story wise it wouldn’t make any sense unless there were Kryptonians on other planets which would be a viable point, but in every show or movie so far that hasn’t been suggested or recognized.

That’s it for now.

#just rambling #dc superman #a bit of Batman #Superman #just thinking and speaking #if this one gets more attention I’d be sad #I don’t usually go off on my thoughts about superhero stuff because I don’t know if I’m allowed m

[sci-fiworlds]

Alien Bad Guys: A Sci-Fi Worlds Top Ten

I originally intended to conclude my loose "paranormal trilogy" in this fortnight's Sci-Fi Worlds, but since the first two installments were featured in Room 101 I thought it best to save part III for there too. So instead, since I'm writing this over the Easter holidays, I thought I'd take it easy a little with a Sci-Fi Worlds Top Ten Alien Bad Guys instead. All just my opinion, of course. Maybe people could post their own top 10 on the BoA forum.

Romulans, Sontarans, Cybermen, The Dominion, Davros and the Daleks are just some of the baddies doing battle to claim top prize as our number one villain in the world of science fiction. Read on and find out ...

10) The Romulans (Star Trek)Homeworld - Romulus and RemusAffiliation - The Romulan Star Empire

Forget the Klingon Empire it was the Romulans who should have been the main protagonists during James T. Kirk's three year reign in the captain's chair. The violent and militaristic Vulcan off-shoots giving the original Enterprise crew one of their very best episodes (if not the best) when they made their début in Balance of Terror.

9) The Minbari (Babylon 5)

Homeworld - Minbar

Affiliation - The Minbari Federation

The Next Generation had its moments but Babylon 5 is the true successor to the original Trek, inheriting some of the best Original Series writers that so obviously influenced B5 creator J. Michael Straczynski.

More casual B5 fans are probably thinking "why are the Minbari in the list? Weren't they good guys?" Yes, for the most part in the series they were, but in the best of the TV movies In The Beginning (which tells the story of the Earth-Minbari War that took place ten years prior to pilot episode The Gathering) they come within a hare's breath of exterminating all humanity in their "Holy war" against the Earth Alliance.

8) The Sontarans (Doctor Who)Homeworld - SontarAffiliation - The Sontaran EmpireRobert Holmes is often celebrated in Doctor Who fandom as the very best of the classic series writers, writing all time greats like The Talons of Weng-Chiang, The Caves of Androzani and even the Master's début story the Terror of the Autons. However, it was Holmes' creation of the Sontarans that arguably had the biggest impact on the show. The cloned warrior race being the only Doctor Who monster to invade (on screen) Gallifrey, the Doctor's Homeworld.

7) The Cylons (Battlestar Galactica)Homeworld - Cylon HomeworldAffiliation - The Cylon EmpireCold and calculating. The war machines ruthlessly wiped out and conquered the Twelve Colonies of Mankind in less than 24 hours. What more could you want. (Read my Battlestar Galactica piece for more of my thoughts on the Cylons.)

6) The Borg (Star Trek)Homeworld - Unimatrix One, located in the Delta QuadrantAffiliation - The Borg CollectiveOne of those moments I was talking about above. The Borg saved The Next Generation and the whole Star Trek franchise from total extinction when they kidnapped and transformed Jean-Luc Picard into Locutus of Borg in The Best of Both Worlds.

Single-minded (quite literally, they have a group or hive consciousness) and utterly relentless in their quest for "perfection," this cyborg collective is the ultimate threat to the United Federation of Planets. In the words of the entity Q: "The Borg are the ultimate user. They're unlike any threat your Federation has ever faced. They're not interested in political conquest, wealth, or power as you know it. They're simply interested in your ship, its technology. They've identified it as something they can consume."

5) The Cybermen (Doctor Who)

Homeworld - Mondas (destroyed)

Other Planets - Telos - Planet 14 - Parallel Earth

Affiliation - The Cyber Empire

The original Borg. The Steel Giants from Mondas were assimilating humans before it was cool. Enough said.

4) The Alien, also called the Xenomorph (Alien franchise)Homeworld - unknown (first encountered by the crew of the commercial towing spaceship Nostromo on LV-426, Zeta Reticuli star system)Affiliation - noneThe most realistic looking extraterrestrial species ever shown on the big screen and perhaps the only truly terrifying one. The "Perfect organism. Its structural perfection is matched only by its hostility … A survivor... unclouded by conscience, remorse, or delusions of morality."

3) The Dominion (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

Homeworld - The Founder's home planet, located in the Omarion Nebula, Gamma Quadrant

Important Members & Allies of the Dominion- The Founders, aka The Changelings (the "Founders" and ultimate heads of the Dominion)- The Vorta (the Founders' cloned intermediaries acting as Dominion administrators, diplomats, command staff, and scientists)- The Jem'Hadar (the ultimate warrior race and shock troops of the Dominion)- The Cardassian Union- The Breen Confederacy

2) The Shadows (Babylon 5)Homeworld - Z'ha'dum, aka Alpha Omega 3 (destroyed)Affiliation - unknownAn ancient force of conflict and chaos, the very essence of evil. Shrouded in mystery and armed with technology a million years ahead of 23rd century Earth (not to mention the coolest looking ships on TV) the Shadows were easily the best alien race in what many consider the best space opera series ever made.

1) Davros and the Daleks (Doctor Who)

Homeworld - Skaro, aka D5-Gamma-Z-Alpha (destroyed)

Other Planets - 22nd Century Earth - Kembel - The Ogron home planet - Spiridon - Necros

Affiliation - The Dalek Empire

The post of supreme alien bad guys has to go to Davros and his ultimate achievement the Daleks. Brilliant but utterly lacking in conscience, without soul or pity, the mutant madman Davros created the Daleks in his own image. Programmed to "conquer and destroy" all other forms of life the metal monsters soon turned on their creator though and thus began their ethnic cleansing of the Universe.

Together, Davros and the Daleks are the ultimate Who allegory for evil. The only two Who villains to consistently have the Doctor on the ropes. The Dalek's conquering Earth not once but twice (at least) and even being responsible for the deaths of two of the Doctor's on screen companions. Not to mention the near extinction of the Doctor's own people the Time Lords.

[uraveragelonelygay]

Deserve

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Summary: Sometimes your doubts and insecurities become too much to handle. But your girlfriends will always be there to remind you how much you mean to them.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Talk of insecurities and negative thoughts! I don’t straight up mention the reader having depression, but it’s very much implied so read with caution please!

A/N: hey besties! its very much been awhile, so im sorry about that lol, my life has been hella hectic. but please enjoy this fic, it is more wholesome than i thought so that’s good! i cant promise to be more active, because school is a lot rn, but i will post when i can :) enjoy!

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As soon as you woke up that morning. you knew it would be one of those days. One of the days where your insecurities were louder than your logic. One of the days where your anxieties seeped into your mind, infesting every memory, every positive thought, until all you were left with was doubt, loneliness, and no motivation to even leave your bed. One of the days where you questioned your worth.

Feeling too heavy from the battle your mind was fighting to leave your bed, you rolled over, only to be reminded of the absence of your girlfriends. They had been assigned on a week-long mission five days prior.

Your girlfriends. Tears sprung to your eyes at the thought of them. So kind, so loving, so supportive. So much more than you could ever possibly deserve.

Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. So strong, so powerful, so fierce. And yet, the fiery red-headed ex-assassin was so soft with you. Her badass facade dropped so quickly when it came to you and Wanda. She would spend her days fighting criminals and aliens, and then come home and wrap you in her arms, her green eyes always filled with love at your presence. She had a laugh that instantly made your heart feel ten times lighter. A smile that made your stomach flutter. All reserved for you and Wanda.

Wanda Maximoff. The Scarlet Witch. She had a world of power at her fingertips, and yet you knew she would never harm a hair on your head. She, too, was soft. Soft brown hair flowing over your face when she would lay on top of you, kissing you lovingly, soft smiles when she would come home to find you cuddled up on the couch, soft laughs when you would make fun of the cheesy rom-coms she would choose during movie nights with you and Natasha.

The two avengers loved you with all they had. They fought global threats on the daily, sometimes even universal threats, and here you were being taken down by your own mind.

They deserve so much better.

You couldn’t help but think about how difficult it must be to love you. You were a clingy, insecure, anxious mess. You constantly needed reassurance and physical affection. You could barely do a cartwheel, let alone fight a whole army of aliens or HYDRA soldiers. You were weak. You were worthless. They must be so ashamed to have to deal with someone like you.

Tears were painting your cheeks now, your eyes silently leaking as you stared at the wall numbly.

And then you heard the sound of your apartment door opening and closing.

It wasn’t long after that you heard a gasp echo through the hallway. You weren’t too surprised, considering how your thoughts were drowning you right now, you could only assume they were fairly loud.

A soft knock sounded on your shared bedroom door.

“Lyubov? Can we come in, sweetheart?” Natasha’s voice sounded, but you didn’t hear. You were too busy being suffocated by your own doubts and anxieties. You were so weak.

The door opened slowly, and in came the two women, their hearts breaking at the sight of you wrapped under the blankets, trembling. They had seen enough of these days to know what was happening. They knew running over in a panic would simply lead you to spiral more, leaving you feeling like a burden that they need to attend to as quickly as possible. So they gently and calmly approached you, their eyes full of concern.

You felt the bed dip on either side of you, two warm bodies surrounding your own, holding you close. Natasha ran her fingers through your hair as Wanda’s arm was draped across your stomach, her thumb gently caressing your hip bone.

The gesture of the two women holding you so gently and lovingly overwhelmed you, causing you to exhale shakily, trying to push away all the emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got you, lyubov. We’re here. We will always be here,” Wanda cooed softly, kissing your temple.

Your body shook as every single doubt that had tried to swallow you whole finally caused the dam to break. Your body wracked with sobs, as your heart clenched in pain. Your hands went to cover your face, but Nat grabbed them, kissing them softly and holding them.

“We love you so much, sweetheart,” she whispered.

The two continued to hold you as you cried, both of them softly speaking words of encouragement and love to you until you stopped shaking.

When your tears died down, Natasha and Wanda sat up, bringing you with them. You rested your head on Wanda’s shoulder, Natasha still holding your hands.

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“About what, detka?” Natasha asked, caressing your hands with her thumbs.

“About all of this. I’m so fucking messy,” you laughed humorlessly.

“Hey. Don’t talk about our girlfriend like that,” Wanda said, gently pushing your shoulder with hers.

Natasha nodded. “Our girl is the most sweet, beautiful, strong woman you will ever meet,” she says, kissing your shoulder.

“I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled, but your girlfriends heard you loud and clear.

“Y/N.” Natasha said sternly, but you merely shrugged.

“Do you wanna know something?” She asked, and you moved your head to look at her, silently cuing her to continue.

“All my life I never had a choice. I was always told what to do and when to do it. So when I finally broke free and was able to make my own choices? Well, I chose very carefully. My choices became very important to me, including choosing who and what I do and don’t deserve. But choosing you and Wanda? It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. A decision I will never regret, for as long as I live, I swear it on my life,” she said, her eyes holding nothing but sincerity.

“And for me?” Wanda began, causing you to shift your attention to her, “It was really hard to love anyone after Pietro. I had lost every single person I cared about. It seemed that everyone I loved was bound to disappear. And then I met you and Natasha. I always thought that I would never be able to get close to anyone ever again, but loving you and Nat came so easily. You both became everything to me. I will never regret opening up to you two, and making you mine. Never. And that’s a promise,” she finished, her eyes holding the same sincerity Natasha’s did.

By the end of both of their speeches your eyes were now flooded with tears, but for a new reason now: because you were overwhelmed with a feeling of love.

“I love you both, so much,” you choked out, another sob erupting from your throat.

“I love you more, my sweet girl,” Wanda replied, her eyes glassy with her own tears.

Natasha blinked furiously as tears seemed to fill her eyes as well. “Fuck you both for making me cry,” she joked as she wiped at her eyes before smiling at you softly. “But I love you too, malyshka.”

Natasha and Wanda then embraced you with a hug filled with so much love and adoration that you thought your heart might burst.

And as the two kissed away your tears, whispering how much they loved you, one thing became clear:

After all the shit you three had been through, 

You deserved each other.

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romonova #natasha x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader x natasha #wanda x reader x natasha #natasha romanoff x reader x wanda maximoff #marvel one shot

[rmnamjoons]

Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

I.

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat.  You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

V.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

X.

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

#ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #namjoon smut #bts smut #rm smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #my writing #namjoon fic #*

[lockefanfic]

The Girl with the Purple Hair

A/N: No smut here, guys, sorry to disappoint you - just some fluff. I wrote this fic literally four (!) years ago - one of my first k-pop fics and my first non-smut fic. I never reposted it here for some reason, but an ask I received recently got me to re-read it and I remembered how proud I was of it when I wrote it, so here it is. Please don’t judge me :P

---

Purple.

 It’s the first word that comes to mind when you see her. And how could it not be, given the color of her hair? It’s not like purple hair is a common thing - not like there are other people in the noisy, crowded bar that have purple hair. In fact, this is probably the first time you’ve seen someone in person with purple hair. Normal people had normal colored hair, like black or brown or blonde. Her hair isn’t some lazy dye job, either, with shades and highlights and a gradient to the violet strands.

 You don’t want to be caught staring, and so you steal glances at her every now and then, and every time you look her way, the first thing you notice is the wavy strands of purple as they play about her shoulders, falling lazily down like a waterfall on an alien world, where the water happens to be purple.

 Beautiful.

 It’s the next word that comes to mind, because were anyone to look just a little past the eye-dazzling color of her hair, they’d find a beautiful face, made with delicate, small features. She is traditionally beautiful in the sense that any man or woman  would agree with you if you said “here is an attractive human being.” There is a timelessness, a universality to her beauty. She could have been born a hundred years ago and still be considered pleasing to the eye - purple hair aside, she could be a painting of a woman from a time gone by, dressed up in the fashion of a model from the magazines of today.

 There is a playfulness about her features at the moment, as she indulges in conversation with the three other girls at her table. Her three friends are nothing to sneeze at, but she makes them all pale in comparison - part of it is the ridiculous, daring color of her hair, but there is something more than that. She possesses a magnetism, an allure that makes her stand out amongst three girls that, were they anywhere else, would easily be the most attractive girls in the room.

 You’re not alone either, sitting as you are with a few of your friends at your own table on the other side of the small bar. It is Friday evening, and as is custom with your co-workers, you all headed to the bar to celebrate another week gone by. But they are currently immersed in a conversation about some work-related topic, some absent co-worker or client (you weren’t really sure anymore) that was frustrating them. Uninterested in the topic, you found your attention drifting, naturally, to the girl with the purple hair.

 You notice that she has a certain aloofness about her, a certain detached nature from the conversation her three friends are having, and for a moment you wonder if perhaps she is in the same boat as you - stuck at a bar with friends who are babbling about co-workers or video games or guys or shopping or cars or clothes or those girls in the random k-pop video playing on one of the big screen TVs, when clearly you’d rather be anywhere but there.

 The other three girls seem like average girls, typical of the type you’d see at a downtown bar on a Friday night, out to have a good time with friends whilst under the influence of perhaps one too many alcoholic beverages. They are the type that would head to a club after they are sufficiently liquored up at this bar, spend the night dancing, post a group picture on Instagram when the night is at its peak, and then make a post on Facebook about how awesome it was the day after.

 But the girl with the purple hair seems different from the other three.

 She lets her gaze wander, and for a split second you are afraid again that perhaps she would catch you staring, but thankfully her eyes drift in a direction opposite from you. She lets a small, almost imperceptible sigh escape her lips, and you wonder if perhaps she would rather be somewhere else, perhaps at home on the couch binge watching some random show on Netflix, or playing Overwatch, or indulging in some random artistic pursuit that you didn’t even know existed.

 She seems like the type that would play Overwatch. She seems like the type that paints, or makes her own earrings that she sells on Etsy, or likes to watch movies in foreign languages. Maybe she watches them with the subtitles off sometimes, just to see if she can understand what they’re talking about simply from the universality of gestures made by foreign hands and the tones of foreign voices coming from foreign mouths.

 The sudden realization that you are framing this random girl in your mind rattles you a bit, and you smile to yourself as you shake your head, as if to rid those stupid, childish thoughts. You didn’t know this girl, not even in the slightest, and it was wrong of you to impose a character, a personality, on someone you knew nothing about.

 You play idly with the small glass of whiskey in your hand, watching as the amber brown liquid swirls about. You take a sip and appreciate the warm taste of it in your mouth and down your throat, appreciating the soft burn, the soft warmth it leaves behind.

 You take a moment to try to tune back into the conversation your friends are having, but they are knee-deep in a conversation about a Super Nintendo game. You loved vintage games - there was something about the original plastic in your hands, and the classic, blocky pixels on your screen, that made it feel more authentic in the way an emulator on a modern console could never be.

 You are about to join in on the conversation, about to tell your friends about some random game you picked up online, when a movement on the other side of the bar catches your attention - the girl in the purple hair is raising a glass. One of her friends is speaking earnestly, it appears, and after finishing her little speech the brunette girl next to her gives her a hug - perhaps it was a toast? Perhaps it is the brunette’s birthday? It probably was. Either way, the girls clink their glasses together, and down their shots in one gulp.

 The girl in the purple hair scrunches her face as she forces the strong liquor down her throat. Immediately you think that perhaps it the cutest thing you’d ever witnessed, and you find that a small smile has appeared, unconsciously, on your lips.

 The four girls share that wonderful post-shot reaction with each other, complaining about how awesome that small bit of alcohol they just had was. Together three of them tease the orange-haired, thin girl who is struggling with the alcohol and having a coughing fit. They laugh and one of them grabs her phone to take a picture of the poor girl, who, to her credit, is laughing along with them, probably out of embarrassment.

 The girl with the purple hair joins in on the fun, saying something that must have been hilarious, for all three of her companions burst out in laughter - including the thin girl struggling with the shot. The girl smiles, and her eyes narrow to thin half-arcs. In that moment she is the picture of happiness and joy.

 She says something else to her group - you assume it is her declaring that the next round is on her. She stands, and the girls make way for her to leave their table.

 For the first time you get a glimpse of her from head to toe. She is wearing a short, black dress, and what appears to be a grey patterned collared shirt beneath it. The dress is plain and relatively short but not overly so, showing off her long, slender legs without being improper or overly suggestive. It’s an interesting outfit; classy enough to be worn to work, whilst casual enough for a night out with the girls.

 Here again she differs from her compatriots, who appear to be dressed in typical club girl outfits, with short tops and skirts, heels and small, glamorous purses and accessories. If ever there was a club girl starter kit, they were perfect models.

 But the girl with the purple hair, as you’ve come to see, is a little different from her friends.  

 You watch as she approaches the bar. There is an elegance in the way she walks, which is admirable considering the alcohol you presume she’s consumed thus far this evening.

 Later on, you’ll wonder where your sudden burst of confidence came from. But at that moment, when the girl with the purple hair reaches the bar and tries, unsuccessfully, to flag down the overly busy bartender, you see an opportunity.

 Hastily, you mumble something to your friends about grabbing the next round, and step away from the table. Out of the corner of your ear, you hear one of your friends wonder where you’re going, and another say that you still have an almost full pitcher at your table - but they are irrelevant now. Nothing else exists aside from the thirty feet between you and the spot at the bar next to the girl with the purple hair.

 Where did this come from, this sudden burst of confidence, this sudden need to get up and go over to this girl to talk to her? Was it the liquor, the liquid confidence coursing through your veins? No. It was the desire, nay, the need to speak to this girl, the need to see if she really was everything you’d built up in your mind. You needed to speak to her, to ask her her name, maybe find out a little about her. Even if she shot you down before you could get a sentence out, well, at least you had tried. You couldn’t bear the thought of wondering what might have been had you not done something.

 Ten feet away. You take a deep breath, and ready what you are about to say in your mind. Some comment about her hair? A stupid, corny joke, just to break the ice?

 Five feet away. Maybe some witty comment about bad bartenders?

 Two feet - and suddenly your thoughts disappear, and your mind goes blank as the girl with the purple hair turns her head and makes eye contact with you. Later you would realize that moment seemed to go on forever. You were hardly the mushy, sentimental type, but you finally understood why the movies slow that moment down, why the soft music plays in the background during those scenes. You wonder if this is what it feels like when someone who will be important in your life looks at you for the first time.

 You are relieved, beyond words, to see a smile appear on her lips.

 You smile back, although you wonder if perhaps the nervousness coursing throughout every fibre of your being is having an effect on your smile, and if you are actually grimacing oddly at her instead of smiling. But your mouth and lips miraculously follow the orders sent to them by your dazzled mind, because her smile widens a little bit in the way that smiles do when they are returned.

 It is just a second, maybe two, of the many billions of seconds in your life, but it felt like an eternity.

 You reach the bar, your legs - your wonderful, reliable, stable legs - by some miracle not failing you and delivering you safely to the bar without collapsing due to sheer nervousness. You remember who you are, what you came here to do, and you try to act as casual as your nerves could allow you to. You make a show of trying to flag down the bartender, but he is busy on the other end of the bar catering to some especially loud patrons.

 Your mind is racing, trying and failing to remember what it was you were going to say to the girl with the purple hair, your nerves suddenly afire at the mere proximity of the young woman you’d been stealing glances at all night. You were far from inexperienced with the opposite sex, far from being some timid fool when it came to approaching them. But this one was different. This one was special.

 Maybe you should just say hi. Start simple, y’know? But dammit, that never works. You needed something witty, something memorable, something that would make her laugh and giggle and think ‘clearly this man’s shirt is made of boyfriend material and I should throw myself into his arms posthaste.’ You don’t get that with hi!. No one gets that with hi. Girls want someone cocky and confident and sure of himself. No one ever just says hi! You know who approaches girls and says hi? Single guys, that’s who! Don’t just say hi!

 Dammit! What were you going to say? Your mind races, tries to think back to other times you’d approached girls, tries to remember what you said to them when you were successful. Gah! Your mind fails you, returns only a simple blank slate, as though your mind had put on its hat and jacket, hung up a sign that said “you’re on your own, kid,” and then started to walk home.

You tap your fingers nervously on the bar surface, trying, and perhaps failing, to appear as casual as possible as you stare, blankly, in the general direction of the too-busy bartender as he struggles to pour the correct kinds of alcohol in the correct kinds of glasses in the correct proportions.

 Clearly you needed to make some witty comment to break the ice. A small joke, perhaps? A corny one, or a genuinely funny one? What was a good joke… dammit! Damn you, mind, and your vacation time! Perhaps mention something… about… sports! Yes, it was a bar, and there were sports playing on the TVs. Maybe she was a hockey fan? Or soccer? What if she liked one, but not the other? Which sport had the highest proportion of purple haired fans? What if she thought sports were stupid, a male-dominated dick measuring contest that wasn’t worth her time or attention, and she thought less of you for liking them? Dammit!

 Maybe you should comment on her hair? Maybe something along the lines of… perhaps… using her hair to get the bartender’s attention? Then segue into how it got your attention. That’s it. Hahahaha, you laugh nervously in your mind’s eye. Then she would say how she was hoping you’d come over to talk to her, and you’d say she was awesome and you’d go on a date the next day and get married a month after that and later you’d have kids and live happily ever-

 There is a soft tap on your forearm. You turn, nervously, to the girl with the purple hair, and the sight of her face, her eyes locked on yours, that bright smile once again on her lips, causes your heart to skip a beat like it was a crack on the sidewalk.

 The next day, when you’d recovered from the whirlwind of the night’s events, you’d realize that her first words to you, the first sounds you’d hear from her voice, would sound like music. And it was crazy, considering it was just a single syllable, a single word, but someone could have told you that the entirety of Beethoven’s works were held within that syllable, and you’d have believed it.

 The girl with the purple hair’s mouth opens, her lips part, a she leans towards you with a soft smile and says:

 “...Hi.”

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #male reader #blackpink jisoo #Kim Jisoo #fluff

[angryschnauzer]

Waited So Long

Summary: As an actress in her mid 20′s you had been lucky enough to get the roles you pushed yourself for, but one role in particular needs a scene you have no experience with; a sex scene, and you co-star is surprised to discover you are still a virgin even though you are in your mid 20′s. But he’s willing to help with whatever you need.

Trope: Friends to Lovers, Co-stars to Lovers Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, protection/condoms. 

I no longer operate a tag list, but instead pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert each time i post a new story.

Masterlist got so long all the links broke, so you can now find all my previous stories on my AO3 LINK HERE

Waited So Long 

Henry sat at the large table, grinning and laughing as the rest of the cast had finished reading through the latest episode’s script. Everyone was in a good mood and that was down to the fact that tomorrow’s shooting schedule required just you and Henry, meaning that everyone else got a three day weekend. But… but you were just staring at the script. You knew it had been coming, but to see the words in front of you, the stage descriptions, it was overwhelming. 

 The Netflix special was ten episodes of a sci-fi series, and you played an alien warrior. Henry was the plucky human astronaut  that had been aboard the International Space Station when it had been sucked into a black hole and had ended up on the far side of the universe. Eight episodes into the filming schedule and the pivotal sex scene was about to be included, and that’s what was clouding every thought in your mind. 

 You were far from naive, you had no issue with your costume or even the nudity - you were after all painted purple with patches of ‘scales’ in strategic parts - but it was the fact you had a small secret that was making you so nervous; you hadn’t ever actually had sex. 

 You were already mid 20’s, you’d been through university and stage school, worked on broadway and the London west end, you’d modelled for artists and had always put your career first. Relationships had just fizzled away after the first couple of dates because of your acting schedule… and that is how you found yourself not only a virgin in her mid 20’s, but one that had never even laid in bed with a partner, been close, felt the weight of a lover on top of them… anything at all.

 The producers called it a wrap for the read through, and the sounds of chairs scraping on the floor filled the room. As people shot their empty plastic bottles into the trash you felt your stomach lurch, quickly leaving the room, finding the disabled bathroom and running to the toilet, the contents of your stomach very quickly coming back up. 

 Finally empty, you sat on the floor and rested your head against the wall, your mind spinning. A quiet knock at the door made you open one eye, watching as the unlocked door swung open and a familiar face peered round;

 “Are you ok?” Henry asked, his bulk almost filling the entire doorway; “You’re not coming down with something?”

 You shook your head;

 “No, just umm… nerves… haha…” you laughed rather awkwardly.

 Stepping into the room, he sat against the opposite wall, leaning forwards to hand you his half finished bottle of water;

 “... about tomorrow?”

 Taking a sip of water you nodded;

 “Bit pathetic really, isn’t it?”

 “Not at all. Is this your first onscreen love scene?”

 “Yeah”

 He sat forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he thought pensively for a moment;

 “Are you going out with the crew tonight?”

 “No. Can’t really face it”

 “How about I drive us back to the house and order some chinese and talk things through? This isn’t my first love scene but I remember the nerves. We’ll get everything out in the open so the air is clear ready for tomorrow, yeah?”

 Nodding, you watched as he stood, holding out his hand for you and helping you to your feet.

 -

 The drive back to the shared house that most of the main cast members were staying at was fun, Henry having linked his Spotify to the stereo, firing up a playlist of old school pop with an eclectic mix of metal. By the time he rolled into the large driveway that the rental house had, you were both yelling out the words, laughing and grinning. 

 Once inside you excused yourselves to go shower, twenty minutes later finding Henry in the kitchen. His hair was wet and he wore a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants as he looked over the chinese menu;

 “What do you fancy?” he asked and you tried not to blurt out what you were thinking, because even though you may be a virgin, your thoughts were far from pure. 

 Looking over the list he had already scribbled down, you pointed to a couple of dishes, watching as he added them to the list before dialling for delivery. 

 -

 Pushing your plate away you stretched out and groaned. Still shovelling egg fried rice into his mouth, Henry pointed his fork at your plate;

 “Roo dun?” he asked, his cheeks full like a hamster.

 “Help yourself!”

 He eagerly dumped the rest of your lemon chicken on top of his rice, jabbing at the pieces;

 “Hey, about tomorrow… you really don’t need to worry. It’s just going to be you and me, and three other people”

 Taking a sip of your beer you quietly snorted;

 “That’s still three more people that would ‘usually’ be there… and four more than i’ve ever experienced”

 He paused, setting his fork down and you could see his mind working through what you said;

 “So uhh, it's been a while…?”

 “To be honest, it's been never”

 It was like something short circuited in his brain;

 “Never never? Like, never?”

 Putting your beer down, you fiddled with the label;

 “I’m a virgin. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even slept with anyone”

 There was an awkward silence, the air tense before Henry finally spoke;

 “Is it a religious thing?”

 You shook your head;

 “No. I just have been so wrapped up in studying or working or being on stage… I would get two dates into a relationship and some big opportunity would come up. I would get blinkered and end up ghosting guys without even realising. Ambition got in the way of a love life…”

 Henry took a deep breath;

 “Ok. So you know i’ll be covered up… down there i mean… and so will you… so there won’t be any slips or anything. I won’t be inside you or anything…”

 Cocking an eyebrow you scoffed;

 “Henry… I know you won’t be inside me. We studied sex scenes at stage school. They gave us the practical run down of what happens. It's lots of rubbing and grunting. I just need to go watch some porn again to figure out what to grunt…” you took a sip of your beer; “... and you probably wouldn’t fit inside me anyway… it’s not like anything has ever breached that hole”

 Henry sat with a wide eyed look on his face, his jaw hanging slack;

 “So you… you’ve never even pleasured yourself?”

 “Of course i have!” you threw a prawn cracker at him; “I’ve just never…. You know… had internal stimulation…”

 “Wow” he muttered quietly, shifting in his seat; “So…” he started again but then stopped, his brain seemingly unable to string a coherent sentence together. 

 Finally he cleared his throat;

 “So there’s never been any on set stuff?”

 “Nope. Usually I run through my lines for the next day, check the schedule, the set and makeup call times. I guess the one bonus about all of this is that there aren’t any lines for tomorrow”

 You both knew that the scene had been set up without dialogue, mostly from Netflix’s instruction because any erotic scenes can cause havoc with sensors in some countries when it comes to subtitles. 

 “What did you want to do now? Do you want an early night? Watch a movie? Talk? You want me to lay on top of you?” he asked, picking his now cold plate of food up and dumping the leftovers in the waste disposal.

 “Yes” you replied far too quickly.

 “Which part?”

 “All of it”

 -

 With the TV in the main living area out of action thanks to a rather rambunctious game of ping pong a few weeks ago, the pair of you had moved to Henry’s room. An hour into the movie and it was far from your thoughts, instead you were in the bizarre situation where Henry was literally laying on top of you as you had a conversation. The feeling of his weight pressing against you was at first a surprise, he was thick with muscles for the role, and with probably 200lbs of human pressing you against the mattress you had found you would have to shift now and again. Finally you found a position that was comfortable, and as you chatted about life you found your legs had naturally parted to allow him to lay between them, his stomach pressing to yours, his face inches from your own;

 “This is literally how we’ll be spending our day tomorrow you realise” he quietly pointed out

 “But there will be grunting too… plus some thrusting… it’ll probably get your ass in the gossip magazines as best ass in hollywood again” you teased him, knowing that the nudity he’d done in previous shows and movies had earned him a lot of attention thanks to his rather peachy behind.

 Henry pushed up a little, poking a finger to your breasts;

 “Oh yeah? Well these will earn you a whole legion of fans, you have an awesome pair of tits”

 “Pfft, they’re just average”

 “They’re good enough to give me a semi” he countered with a crooked grin on his face, using his finger to just tug at your neckline, exposing a tiny bit more skin.

 You shifted beneath him without even realising you were doing so and that’s when you felt it, a growing hardness pressing against your abdomen. Your eyes went wide as you stared up at him, the mix of emotions showing on his face;

 “I’ll get off…”

“No!” you instinctively wrapped your legs around his, leaning your head up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He let out a grunt of surprise and you felt him tense, before he softened, his lips following yours as you pulled rested your head back on the duvet beneath you.

 His lips were soft and plump, and as he rocked his hips against you again this time you felt he was getting harder. Instinctively you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You may not have had sex before but you had kissed, and your tongue danced with his as hands started to explore each others bodies, fingers seeking out skin as t-shirts were tugged up to expose heated skin. 

 Pulling your shirt over your head he admired your naked chest, the pattern on your top having hidden the fact you were without a bra;

 “Oh yeah, even purple these’ll be popular”

 With a smirk on his lips and a wicked grin on his face he lowered his mouth to your naked torso, taking one peaked nipple between his lips to suck on it, his hand cupping your other breast. As he worked his magic your body responded, the wetness between your thighs soaking through your clothing, the subtle movements of your bodies rubbing together making your arousal almost uncontrollable. Winding your hands into his dark locks, the soft hair curled around your fingers as he looked at you, pressing a trail of kisses down your sternum until he reached your leggings;

 “Can i continue?” he asked quietly, watching as you nodded your head;

 “Yes… please…”

 As he pulled your leggings off he pressed kisses to the heated skin that he revealed, never breaking eye contact;

 “So here’s what i’m going to do… first i’m going to get you to cum with my tongue, i’ll slip it just a little inside you so you can get used to the feeling, then i’ll gently tease you with my fingers; find that g-spot of yours as i’ve been assured a g-spot orgasm is completely different from a clitoral orgasm…

 “Fuck…”

 “Yes, that’s the third thing…” he grinned at you; “Once you’re nice and ready, and really really wet i’m going to make love to you… so you can practice your moans for tomorrow…”

 He shed you of the rest of your clothing before softly grasping your legs and pulling them apart, revealing your virgin core. Tender fingers parted your petals before his tongue swiped a wide stripe through them, and the sound that emerged from your throat startled even you.

 “You like that?”

 “Yes… oh my god, please do that again!”

 “With pleasure!”

 “The pleasure is all mine…”

 “Henry?”

 “Yes?”

 “Please shut up and get on with it” you grinned at him, before he dipped his face back between your legs and went to town. His tongue was seemingly everywhere, grunts and moans as he worked you open, and when he slipped his tongue into the ring of muscle at your entrance your eyes shot open and you giggle-moaned at the unfamiliar but not unpleasant experience. When a finger found your clit you relaxed again, laying back and enjoying the pleasure he was selflessly giving you. 

 Gripping at the bedcovers you found your hips started to move on their own, only for Henry to press a strong arm across your stomach to hold you in place, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. When it finally did hit your body reacted instinctively; your legs wrapping themselves around his head, your back arching and your fingers almost tearing through the fabric of the sheets, before you finally went limp. As your mind was nothing but stars a muffled voice came through the haze of your post orgasmic bliss;

 “If i could get some oxygen…”

 Not realising your legs were still firmly wrapped around Henry’s head, you quickly released him, his head popping up from beneath your thighs. His cheeks were flushed red and his chin was wet, and it took you a moment to realise you were the cause for the wetness. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before standing and grabbing a bottle of water to pass to you;

 “You’re gonna need to rehydrate after that…”

 You went to take the bottle from him but the bulging tent in his sweatpants distracted you, your hand pausing mid air before Henry laughed;

 “Drink first, then you can play with it”

 “Oh… I… “

 “Drink”

 Taking the bottle you sipped at the tepid liquid as he lay on the bed beside you. When you’d finished he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his firm chest before kissing you softly;

 “Are you ready for round two?”

 “Can i touch you too?”

 A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he nodded, watching as you eased the elastic of his sweats down and his heavy cock sprang free. Your jaw fell as you took in his size, but before you could overthink it he pressed a kiss to your lips as his hands wandered between your thighs. 

 Reaching out you wrapped your fingers around him as his own slid between your folds, dancing over your clit before he pressed a single digit inside you, your eyes going wide and your hand squeezing him involuntarily. 

 “Does that feel good?”

 You nodded;

 “Yes, a little strange that i’m not in control, but i think that’s what makes it even more exciting”

 “That’s good… now, how about another finger?”

 Nodding again you bit your lip as he slid a second finger in alongside the first, your eager hole stretching around his digits. Instinctively you had started to move your hand up and down his shaft, doing little more than gentle movements, but soon the pair of you got into a rhythm, working together to leave your breaths in time with the others.

 “Doing so well for me… so wet. Shall we try a third?”

 Nodding you let out a quiet ‘uh-huh’ as he repositioned his hand, carefully sliding three fingers into your soaked velvet channel, and the noise that came from your throat was base and full of sin. When his thumb started to rub against your clit while he continued to work three fingers inside you the spring in your belly snapped and you were coming hard, shaking around his hand.

 As you came down from your high Henry carefully withdrew his fingers, salaciously licking them clean before he got off the bed and went to the drawer in the little cabinet, pulling out a condom.

 “Oh… i’m on the pill…” you blurted out; “You don’t have to… In fact i’d really like to feel you, you know… bare…”

 Tearing the packet open he grinned at you;

 “I get that… but you’re gonna be in makeup in less than 12 hours” he knelt on the bed as he started to roll the latex down his angry dick.

 “Umm yeah?”

 “Well its something you’d only know from experience, but it can take up to 24 hours for a guys cum to fully leak out of you”

 “Oh…”

 “And your costume and makeup gets pretty intimate, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

 “So you want Iris in makeup to be able to smell my cum dripping out of you when she’s painting your snatch purple tomorrow?” he said with a grin on his face, rolling the condom down fully before positioning himself between your legs

 “I gotta be honest, the idea that someone realises i’ve had sex is kinda kinky” you craned your neck up to kiss him as you felt his dick notch at the entrance to your cunt; “But you’re the expert here”

 “That i am… Let me show you just how much of an expert…”

 With a smooth roll of his hips he pushed into you and the feeling was indescribable, in fact it was so overwhelming you screwed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall, but Henry simply held still, kissing each one of your tears as they fell down your cheeks until you were ready.

 “Breathe babe… just breathe… it’s overwhelming i know… i understand…”

 Opening your eyes you gazed up at him, smiling as he leaned down and kissed you softly.

 “Are you ok?”

 “Y-yeah…”

 “You want me to keep going?”

 “Please… oh god please”

 “Gonna make you feel so good”

 He carefully pulled his hips back before pushing into you again, seemingly getting deeper before pulling out again. Soon you were lost in the moment, feelings both physical and emotionally almost overwhelming you again as your body was taken to new heights of pleasure, Henry seemingly knowing exactly how to make the moment special for you.

 Your body reacted in the best way, the tight spring inside you curling ever tighter, until with just the right roll of his hips he tipped you over the edge and you were coming hard, your body squeezing him so tight he knew he’d found heaven whilst you saw stars. 

 Whilst you were in the haze of your orgasm you heard the most beautiful moans, and felt as Henry came deep within you. As soon as he stopped shaking he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his face to your neck as he cradled the back of your head with his massive hand, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin as you both basked in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms.

 Finally Henry pushed himself up to bear his weight on one arm, sliding his other hand between your bodies to hold the condom in place as he carefully pulled out of you;

 “I’m just gonna get rid of this… stay here”

 You watched his peachy ass as he quickly mad his way to the bathroom, hearing water running before he reappeared moments later with a damp washcloth. Sitting delicately beside you he carefully cleaned you up, and when he was finished he pulled the duvet over your naked body as he quickly got rid of the cloth and joined you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest;

 “Are you ok?”

 “I think so… Did i make a mess of your bed?”

 “No. No blood”

 “Really? I thought…”

 “If you’re relaxed enough you may not bleed… or you may have simply ruptured your hymen just through every day life. A fall, tampons, strenuous exercise… didn’t you do a horseriding movie a couple of years back?”

 “Y-yeah…” you cast your mind back; “Now you mention it, there was one really long day when i’d spent all day shooting a galloping scene with jumps… i just thought my period was coming early, and i had this really dull ache in my lower back… i guess that makes sense now…”

 “So… you’re good? Feel ok about filming tomorrow?”

 You nodded;

 “Yeah, i’m good. Thank you” You looked up at him and saw he was chewing his lip nervously; “What?”

 “I was wondering… you know… after we’ve finished filming tomorrow… did you want to go to dinner with me?”

 “Like a date?”

 “Yeah… hey i understand if you say no… that you want to concentrate on your role and acting…”

 “No! I mean yes!” you took a deep breath; “I’d love to go to dinner with you”

 He pressed a kiss to your cheek before you settled on his chest, his strong heartbeat beating beneath your ear as you let your eyelids drop and you fell asleep in his arms.

 -

 Iris tutted as you fidgeted;

 “Will you stand still? I need to get these scales on!”

 “Sorry Iris… just a little sore…”

 The older woman looked up at you as she held the patch of purple scales prosthetic and grinned;

 “Well its about time” she nodded to the various bottles and jars that were on the counter; “Make sure you take the coconut oil when you leave tonight, it’ll help get the adhesive off without pulling on any bruises”

 You looked down at Iris and smiled;

 “Thanks Iris”

 “Was it worth it?”

 “So worth it”

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