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eoieopda · 1 year

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lacuna (knj)

lacuna (n): a blank space, a missing part

In his twenty-eight years, Kim Namjoon had made countless mistakes. Most of them were insignificant and could be shoved easily enough into the back corner of his mind. The worst of them were all tied for first place, keeping him up at night.

Loving you, losing you, and now – picking up the phone.

Pairing: Ex!Kim Namjoon x Fem!Reader Type: One-Shot (Angst, Smut - 18+ or else.) Word Count: Like, 7K (?!) Content: ex-boyfriend au; exes to something?; literally so much angst; yearning; pov switches; oral sex (f receiving); unprotected sex; p in v penetration; cursing; texts from Yoongi. A/N: For reasons unknown, I decided to break my own heart today! The lyrics you'll see below are from "Sooner" by The Low Blow. There's also a reference to one of my favorite tv shows at the end - did you catch it? (1/9/23) The sequel, Redamancy, is finally here! (3/17/23) There is now a playlist 🥲

Sitting cross-legged on the rug, your weary, unfocused eyes stared somewhere in the vicinity of Min Yoongi. Shrouded all in black, you nearly assumed he was your sleep paralysis demon, hunched over his keyboard with his eyes narrowed in thought – but you hadn’t slept much at all lately. Not with your deadline looming overhead like the sword of Damocles.

He relayed what was already looping through your brain. “It’s missing something.”

You scrubbed your hands over your face, too burnt out to care if your foundation stayed where it was supposed to. “I know,” was all you said, though it wasn’t all you were thinking. Listening to this demo – this crushing song about love lost – you knew what was missing.

Or rather, who.

Once again reading your mind, Yoongi spoke with a wary sigh. This time, he said the quiet part out loud. “Listen, I know that on a personal level, this is a terrible idea. But if you really want this track to ache –”

“I’ll call him.”

Yoongi turned to look at you over his shoulder. He, like you, hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours; but his surprise still managed to crack through an otherwise impassive expression.

“You sure you want to be the one?” His frown was microscopic, but it was there and it bruised. “I have to hit him up, anyway, so I can handle this for you.”

You’d never told him – or any of your friends, come to think of it – the details of your whatever it was with Namjoon. You couldn’t call it a breakup; that would necessitate a relationship. You couldn’t comfortably assign that word to this indescribable something.

But maybe that’s precisely why it hurt to breathe when you thought too hard about it. Maybe the thing that burned in your lungs was the fact that whatever it was wasn’t much of anything at all.

The universally known narrative was that you met Kim Namjoon at a release party two years prior. After years of putting out extended plays, he was dropping his highly anticipated, full-length masterpiece.

That’s what your label called it; that’s what the press called it; but you couldn’t agree. That word wasn’t heavy enough – it didn’t give due credit to the pieces of himself he broke down and buried within those twelve tracks. You felt seen when you heard it. When you saw him, it was game over.

As the story goes, you went home with him that night. While true, it was the tiniest fragment sitting sharp at the tip of an iceberg. The rest was an ill-equipped ship, sailing in slow-motion through the dark.

He'd spent the entirety of his celebration focused on you. What you thought; what you wanted for yourself; what made that tipsy, uninhibited giggle come flying out of your chest. And then, holding his hand like it’d been tailor-made for yours, you followed his lead out of there while confused partygoers murmured in your wake.

He fucked you like he knew you – on a cellular level – and he looked at you like you were all there was. You’d spent the entirety of the following day there, draped over him or nestled underneath him. You were never not touching in some way – in the little interludes of sleep; while cooking a breakfast too big for the two of you alone; on every surface of his apartment.

He changed your life in those twenty-four hours, but not enough for it to stick.

You’d spent as much time with him as you could in the year afterward, until your twin ambitions sent you both rocketing in other directions. Your various obligations never allowed you to be in the same place for long; and when they did, it was over too soon. No amount of time would ever feel like enough, but half a day, here and there, felt like a cosmic joke.

Like the universe was punishing you for wanting everything, all at once.

Eventually, you came to a fork in the road. His career, though international, was rooted in Korea – home. Yours took you to Los Angeles, to a vastly different time zone, and a schedule that refused to make space. And you tried, but when it came down to choosing – idling together or racing forward alone – your respective dreams were so heavy that they tipped the scales.

Neither of you could blame the other. After all, you’d both made the same decision. There was some small comfort in knowing that he understood you. That consolation couldn’t keep you warm at night when you’d instinctively reach out and find half of your bed still empty.

It would’ve been so much easier to live without him if there was some horrible betrayal to pin it all on, but he was as perfect when you lost him as he was when you found him.

Shaky legs pushed you off the ground. Without meaning to, you groaned as your body returned to its regularly scheduled programming. Yoongi simply muttered, “Same,” as he made additional adjustments in his editing software.

You affectionally touched your knuckles to his shoulder as you passed by, though you quickly realized this gesture wasn’t made to comfort him.

You shut the door softly behind you and headed up the hallway. Having kicked off and subsequently lost your shoes several hours ago, you padded in socked feet across the hardwood. The pattern – the various evolutions of Eevee – clashed so blatantly with the extravagance around you. Glancing down, you chuckled. At least some parts of you were still recognizable.

The door to the stairwell creaked as you pushed it open and ducked inside. No longer camped out in the soundproof studio, you could hear the smattering of raindrops as they pummeled the exterior walls of the building. Somewhere between a drum roll and machine gun fire, you couldn’t figure out if the noise emphasized or relieved your anxiety.

Gently, you lowered yourself down on a step halfway up the flight. As you stared down at your phone, your knee bounced of its own volition.

For once, you were thankful for the seventeen-hour time difference. This was the kind of call you needed to make at midnight, but one you didn’t want him receiving at midnight. It felt so much safer in daylight.

At least one of you had eyes on the sun.

You’d deleted his number from your phone months ago because you thought it might help you let go. It didn’t. And to make matters worse, you still knew it by heart. As you typed it out easily, you wished this realization surprised you. You also wished that you’d catch him at a bad time, so you could simply leave a message.

You’d never been lucky, though, had you?

Namjoon was half-asleep at a café table when the vibration of his phone against the wrought metal snapped him out of it. In his under-caffeinated daze, he couldn’t determine what that unbearable grinding noise was.

He could, however, see the way the elderly woman nearby was scowling at him. He furrowed his brows and blinked back at her; silently asking what the fuck her problem was. Just as silently, she pointed an angry, wrinkled finger to his tabletop.

By the time his brain kicked into gear, he was too late. He picked up his now-quiet phone and nearly dropped it in an instant when he saw your name tied to a missed call.

He didn’t think twice before returning it – he should have – having figured there was only one way to know if he was truly hallucinating. You picked up immediately in a voice so you that he couldn’t have imagined it. He knew because he'd already tried.

“Hey.”

People who didn’t know you often mistook the natural rasp of your voice for tiredness, but he did know you. You were beyond exhausted, more so than the last time he’d heard from you. Five months and twenty-one days ago.

This sounded like another all-nighter; like you got so consumed in creating that you couldn’t sleep until you finished. Remembering you like this opened a black hole in his chest – all this fondness with nowhere to go, collapsing in on itself, pulling.

What kind of masochist was he, voluntarily subjecting himself to this conversation?

“Hey,” He croaked. Even his voice didn't know what to do.

He heard shuffling on your end. You always pinned your phone between your right ear and shoulder to start — he immediately recognized the sound of your hair against the receiver when you switched it to your left side. Vanilla and honey flooded his nose despite the thousands of miles that separated him from the scent of your shampoo.

There were a thousand questions spinning dizzy in his mind, but he couldn’t untangle them to spit one out. The longer you both remained quiet, the worse it got – and the worse he felt for his silence. Even without seeing you, he knew that your brows were knitting together. He knew that quiet made you feel too exposed.

Namjoon cleared his throat to speak at the same moment you asked, “How are you?” His words echoed, a half-second from being uttered in unison.

He prayed to any god that he’d stop feeling so nervous. There was no reason to be, not with you. You were his comfort zone, his safe space and – oh. Past tense.

Presently, you were – what, exactly? Could he call you an “ex” if you’d never had a title? It all felt too juvenile, hearing people whisper about his girlfriend. You were –fuck – You were home, and now his house was haunted.

A ghost.

“I’ve been good,” he said quickly, planting a hollow smile on his face that wouldn’t have convinced you if you were there. Liar, liar, liar. “Busy. You sound –”

“Awful?”

“– like you’ve been working all night.”

He heard a sheepish chuckle and his clumsy, thudding heart went flying off into the void.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” you admitted in a voice so tiny he nearly missed it, “And I wouldn’t be – I promise – if I could’ve bothered anyone else with this. This one, though… when I hear it in my head, I can’t imagine anyone –”

“Say less.”

It slipped out of him automatically. He couldn’t stop it. Now it was dangling there in dead air where he couldn’t reach it and shove it back down his throat. He must have said that to you a thousand times, giving you whatever you needed before you could even finish asking.

This was the first time he’d ever said it without punctuating it with a kiss to your forehead, though. And now, his equilibrium was off, like the staircase had one less step than he was expecting.

When you finally broke the silence, he could’ve sworn he heard you sniffle, but he quickly kicked that thought back into the cage it escaped from. Your voice didn’t sound sad at all, so you couldn’t have been crying. Why would you be?

“I can have Yoongi send you what we have so far, lyrics too. If you’re interested, just let me know – verse, bridge, whatever you want.”

“You’re with Yoongi?”

It came out exactly as he hadn't intended – accusatory. It was no business of his who you spent time with, professionally or otherwise. And it didn’t even surprise him that Yoongi would stick around after the – whatever it was. All your shared friends stayed shared. His confusion was solely that Yoongi never mentioned working with you, let alone flying stateside to do so.

Why hadn’t Yoongi said something? Did he assume Namjoon wouldn’t be interested in hearing about your project? Because he would - he kept up with all of your releases, even if it hurt. Was he scared that the mere mention of you would exacerbate the tailspin Namjoon was barely surviving?

Or was it something else?

“Yeah, he got here a few days ago. I offered to send the vocals to him, but he said he wanted In-N-Out,” Your laugh, even under the weight of your sleepiness, still packed a punch. “Might be the longest trip anyone’s ever made for animal-style fries.”

Namjoon felt like he was going to pass out, but for your sake, he tried to echo your laugh. “Sounds like he’s got his priorities in order, as usual.”

That uncomfortable silence crawled back in and settled in the space between you. It never used to be like this. His mouth remained open as if his broken brain could think of a single thing to say. There were hours in every second that passed, but he didn’t hang up – and neither did you.

“So, if I figure something out, I can shoot it back over –”

You interrupted this time.

“No need,” You chirped. You must’ve sensed that his train of thought now consisted only of question marks because you dove right back in, “I’ll be in Seoul at the end of the month, so we can put all the pieces together then.”

Please be speaking metaphorically. Please say –

“I’ve gotta hop off now, but it was –” Your voice petered out at the end of your statement, and he didn’t know what to do within the pause.

What pleasantry would you settle on to end this conversation? Was it nice to hear from him, or did you also feel like you’d walked through the emotional equivalent of a car wash?

It was heavy when you exhaled the amendment, hitting the ground with a thud that could’ve knocked him over.

It was torture, and it drop-kicked him into the abyss at full-speed. No light above, no hope below. A black hole that he kept selfishly refusing to close – all because he answered your call.

“Thank you, Joonie.”

Fuck. He was doomed.

You spent a shocking percentage of your life on international flights. It was a privilege – you knew it – to travel to the extent that you did, but it was so lonely.

If you were flying, there were two justifications. The first was the most common – touring. You’d touch down in cities all over the world, stay for a few hours, and then you’d leave again as soon as you could blink.

Your interactions were limited, either one-sided conversations from a stage; or facilitated entirely by a local translator. Never truly connecting, missed phone calls and texts sent too late to get a response. The same stale conversations with the crew that had been stuck with you for months.

The second was less common, and somehow even lonelier – visiting a home that was no longer yours.

It always went the same way. You’d touch down at the Incheon International Airport in your home country and feel just as foreign as the tourists bustling around you. You’d gather a suitcase’s worth of belongings and try not to think about the fact that they – and everything else you owned – once lived there, too. You’d hit customs and then, as a reward, snag yourself some boba from the café on your way out the door.

In all those trips, you’d never once hailed a cab because Namjoon was always waiting. You’d hear him before you saw him with how loud he kept his car’s stereo, but when you did finally lay eyes on him, you’d light up like a sparkler. He’d shower you with affection – publicly, despite his usually private nature – and swap out the luggage in your hands for some thoughtful surprise. Flowers, usually, after painstaking deliberation over the meaning he wanted to convey.

Now, you stood on the sidewalk with your empty hand in the air.

Shortly after settling into your cab, you fell asleep. The person who would have gently scolded you for taking this risk wasn’t there to do so. Instead, you woke up stiff and disoriented to the sound of your driver honking his horn. You quickly learned that he wasn’t honking at traffic; he was honking at you with a scowl on his face.

“Time to go! Wake up – your stop!”

He was speaking in English, so it took you a few moments to determine whether you were dreaming. Impatient, he honked again.

Did he think you were a tourist? Was he right?

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you threw the door open and hurled yourself out. You ran to the trunk, snatched your suitcase, and tried not to remember that you didn't used to have to do this part yourself.

Yoongi had the foresight to give you a spare keycard before leaving California, so you were able to get into his building quickly – before you were honked at again. Spoken to in English again, like this place had never been home.

You, belonging nowhere and to no one, kept yourself together until the elevator doors gave you some semblance of shelter.

Alone, alone, alone, you cried so hard that your shoulders shook. The mirrored walls around you showed infinite versions of you, all pitiful like you were still that little girl who’d gotten separated from her parents at an amusement park. It was incredible how you felt smaller in that elevator than you did as a child.

And fuck, did that embarrassment make you cry even harder.

Eventually, those doors would have to re-open, and you’d have to let yourself into Yoongi’s unoccupied penthouse just to wait for his return. You were so sick of walking into empty apartments and hearing nothing but your own footsteps. No warmth, no laughter, just a black hole of your own creation.

You chose this, you reminded yourself. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You were so busy chasing broader horizons, you didn't notice that the sun had disappeared. If you’d known – really, truly known – what the fall would be like, would you have taken that leap of faith? No, you think, but you did and there’s no jumping back into the airplane once you’ve dived out of it.

Ding.

There was a post-it note waiting for you on the inside of Yoongi’s door that you would’ve missed if you hadn’t taken so much time to shut it behind you. His handwriting was shockingly neat for someone who was always in a rush. His note told you that he’d be home in two hours, that there was food for you in the refrigerator, and that you should help yourself to whatever you needed.

The sinkhole in your stomach wasn’t created by hunger, so you pushed that down to the bottom of your to-do list and dragged your luggage to the guest bedroom down the hall.

Every inch of his place was undeniably Yoongi – monochromatic and edgy, but still so confusingly inviting. His guest room was similar in style, but with more personalized touches than most visitors tended to expect. Framed photos of friends, and the collaborators he was most proud to work with.

Your eyes eventually found one of you, beaming brightly.

It hurt to look, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. It was taken in a photobooth at Kim Seokjin’s wedding last spring. You were sandwiched on a small bench seat between Yoongi and Namjoon.

The former, like you, was captured in the middle of a laugh - smiling at the camera with all teeth, eyes crinkled at the edges but still sparkling. The latter wasn’t looking at the camera at all – just you, like you were all there was.

Forcing yourself to look away, you returned the frame to its place on the vanity and kept moving. Your primary instinct was to hurl yourself into the plush bed and never leave it. But you felt stale after spending so much time traveling, and you didn’t want to collapse into those beautiful sheets until you’d scrubbed the day off you.

Shuffling off to the bathroom, you finally remembered to take your phone off ‘airplane mode.’ All at once, the floodgates opened. The onslaught of texts, emails, and voicemails was so overwhelming that your phone froze.

When the flurry stopped, you scanned through your various inboxes for anything that might require an immediate response. Finding nothing urgent, you were about to set your phone down when you saw an email from Namjoon, addressing both you and Yoongi.

His verse, you realized as you opened it.

I think I lost you sooner than I wanted to And I know you can't say the same But I can't hate you for doing what you've gotta do Cause I'm just in bed sleeping through the pain Do you see wasted potential when you look at me? Of what we could be if it wasn't like this I know you asked me not to try and change myself But when I was with you, I felt fixed

It took everything you had not to drop to your knees.

Namjoon was an incredible liar.

He didn’t utilize the skill often – in fact, he was usually too honest – but when he did, he could get himself out of any unwanted scenario.

In the distant past, he’d slip out of obligations made by his label to stay home in bed with you. It worked every single time. Instead of putting on some over-priced suit, wasting his breath swapping empty pleasantries with industry tools; he’d be hooking his arms around your quivering thighs, pinning you to his face as he fucked you with his tongue.

In the present, he lied again.

Yoongi asked, “How did it feel to hear from her again?”

“To be honest,” Namjoon started, knowing full well that nothing he said next would be, “That shit’s behind me, man. I was surprised her number was still in my contacts, you know? She’s been a non-factor for a minute.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “With the number of girls you’ve gone through in the meantime, I imagine it gets hard to keep track.”

Hook, line, sinker.

Namjoon offered a smirk and a shrug in response, which Yoongi accepted without further comment. The relief of being believed did nothing to cure the nausea swirling in Namjoon’s stomach, though - not just for the cruelty of his lie, but for the way he’d acted since you left and stayed gone.

He learned early on that it would take more than fucking someone he didn't know to keep warm, but knowing better didn’t mean he did better. None of them – and there were many – could pull him from the limbo he found himself in without you. There was an emptiness gnawing at his insides that he couldn’t fill, and the more he tried, the more it tore at him.

The only thing he succeeded at was becoming someone he didn’t recognize –someone he didn’t even like.

Yoongi pulled into his parking garage and turned to Namjoon, staking him through the heart with words alone. “Well, the non-factor is upstairs, so try to remember her name when you see her.”

Namjoon chuckled, but it didn’t sound anywhere close to convincing. There was a flicker of doubt in Yoongi’s quickly flexed eyebrow, though he kept any questions he may have had to himself. Without a word, they clambered out of the car, and they stayed quiet until they stepped into the elevator.

“How has she been?” Namjoon asked more quietly than he meant to. Like someone who’s scared of the answer - or worse, being asked why he’s asking. Quickly diverting further inquiry, he provided clarification Yoongi hadn’t sought. “Sounded tired as fuck on the phone.”

Yoongi glanced at Namjoon before selecting the button marked with his floor number. “You know how she is,” He hummed.

That one hurt. He knew how you were – past tense.

Except for that one phone call, he hadn’t heard your voice in months. He hadn’t seen you for even longer than that. Your number hadn’t changed, but for all he knew, everything else could have. All he had now was his memory’s pale imitation of you, always in sight but never within reach.

A ghost that disappeared into the walls before he could get too close.

When the elevator door opened, Namjoon was fighting between running forward and running away. Incapable of doing either, it was Yoongi’s light punch on his bicep that prompted his feet to move. Namjoon trudged along after him until Yoongi stopped short with a groan.

“The fuck?” Namjoon coughed as he collided with Yoongi’s back. “Don’t tell me you’re already winded, dude. I’m not giving your old ass a piggy-back ride.”

The scowl he received could’ve scorched the Earth.

“I forgot my fucking phone in the car.” Yoongi tossed his apartment key at Namjoon. It thudded against his unsuspecting chest only to be caught on the rebound.

Then, Yoongi pointed at the door. “Go play nice and figure out where we’re getting take-out from. I had a dream about bulgogi last night that was borderline sexual, so keep that in mind.”

Namjoon’s face scrunched up. “I’ll be trying my best to keep it out, so thanks for that.”

Yoongi had already turned around, waving a dismissive hand as he stalked off.

As soon as Namjoon heard the elevator doors close, his phone chirped in his pocket and caught him off guard. He glanced down to find a text from Yoongi – who was, apparently, also a liar.

Yoongi [18:19 PM]: fyi you always say “to be honest” when you’re about to say some bullshit Yoongi [18:19 PM]: "non-factor" my asssssss

Namjoon grimaced and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking to Yoongi’s door with his heart in his throat.

Clearly, Yoongi wanted Najmoon to fix things with you. He’d crafted some false narrative to get himself out of there, to give Namjoon the time and space to do it. But there wasn’t a single fucking thing he could say to rebuild the bridge you’d both demolished together.

That is, if you even wanted him to try.

After unlocking the door, he froze. A full minute passed before his hand received his brain’s signal to turn the knob, and even then, his feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. If hearing your voice made him spiral, he was terrified of what the sight of you might do.

More than anything, he was scared to see how you looked at him – and he didn’t know what reaction he wanted. If you lit up the way you used to, it might kill him. If you had no reaction at all, it would definitely kill him.

He would’ve stalled at that threshold all night if you didn’t appear in the hallway, straight ahead. You froze like a deer in headlights, one hand still on the door you’d exited from. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise.

He didn’t notice the red rims around your eyes right away, but once he did, every cell in his body screamed at him to run to you, to hold you.

But he didn’t.

Touching you now only to lose you again tomorrow - well, that was a scab he couldn’t rip off again. There was only scar tissue where his heart used to be.

“Hey,” You smiled so sweetly when you saw him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Those fucking eyes! He’d give up everything he had to erase the sadness swimming behind them, threatening to spill out.

Why were you still so far away?

You glanced around him, noting Yoongi’s absence, but didn’t ask where he was. “I was thinking we could get something from that –”

The longer he stared at you, the more impossible it became to keep his distance. He couldn’t stand on that doorstep with you over there, trying so hard to look like you hadn’t been crying – like you weren’t about to start again.

Fuck it.

If he was so dead-set on re-breaking his own heart, he’d do it with you in his arms.

“Joonie, is everything oka–”

No, nothing was. Nothing had been, not for – fuck, are his eyes getting misty? - a long time. Not since you walked out of his apartment for the last time, and he let you. He couldn’t make any of it okay, but with you there now, he didn’t give a fuck about where you were before.

Your eyes were as big as the moon when he finally reached you, blinking your surprise up at him.

Did you really think he had any other option than to hold you? Did you have any idea how you looking at him like this - bare-faced, freshly-showered, vulnerable - demanded his immediate affection?

It felt like coming home, sliding his fingers through your still-damp hair. He could’ve fallen to pieces when the familiar scent of your shampoo – vanilla and honey – crashed over him, but he didn’t. His lips collided with yours, and for the first time in a fucking year, he felt whole.

You clung to him so desperately, you could’ve ripped a hole in his shirt. You couldn't care about that, though, because he kissed you and it was pure starlight. He kissed you hard, nicking your lip between his teeth until you opened your mouth against his.

You whimpered into him, drunk on the wet heat of his mouth, melting and falling and spinning and flying. You felt it all fall to the wayside, every second wasted without him, every text you didn’t send, every wrong turn that led you so far away.

You didn't realize until you finally broke apart that the tears on your cheek weren’t exclusively yours. His gaze locked with yours, and all either of you could do was gasp for air - chests heaving, lips kissed swollen. If not for the arm around your back, pinning you against his chest, you would’ve floated away. But he had you, completely.

Finally, you felt tethered.

Your trembling hand settled on the side of his face. Fuck! That face. The warmth of his skin, the heights of his cheek bones, the gentle slope of his nose.

How many mornings did you wake up and miss it? How did you ever fall asleep without it nuzzled into the crook of your neck, without the whisper of warm breath on your skin?

You wanted to scream until the hurt left your chest, but you didn’t dare – not with that face so perfectly close to yours.

He spoke first, “I’m so –”

Your eyes followed your thumb as it swiped over his bottom lip, unearthing a quiver that burned you up inside. He was paralyzed by your touch. Enraptured. Leaving that clause hanging open in the air.

His eyes were wide with anticipation as he watched you, pupils dilating when you whispered. “Say less.”

Faster than you could process, he lifted you off the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. Automatically, your legs locked behind his back; your lips re-captured his and his kiss never faltered as he carried you back into the guest room. Quickly and with a shocking display of control, he kicked the door closed without slamming it – or breaking it.

Like so many times before, he laid you gently onto the mattress as if you were crafted from porcelain. And when he finally pulled away from you, you gazed up at him in awe.

This was one of the million reasons you couldn’t seem to let him go – the way his eyes softened when you were breathless underneath him, like you were the only thing in the universe worth looking at.

There were too many things to be said that neither of you could verbalize. You felt them all falling down around you like confetti, loose ends to be tied up later. He didn’t need to say a thing, so long as he kept looking at you like that.

When his fingers landed at the hem of your shirt, you knew what came next. A dance you’d done a thousand times, you lifted your arms for him to pull it up and off. Still damp from your shower, the ends of your hair raised goosebumps as they chilled the bare skin of your back.

He moved slowly and without breaking eye contact as he unbuttoned your jeans. Your zipper followed, then your jeans and underwear in tandem. The denim dragged so deliciously against your thighs as he slipped them down, down, down. As he tugged them off your ankles, you discarded your bra and tossed it aside. You were entirely bare and shivering with anticipation when his gaze found you again.

His shirt soon joined yours on the floor. Kneeling between your legs, his bare chest burned against your own as he kissed you for the third time. So many more were needed to make up for lost time, but you could feel how much of himself he poured into the kisses he’d credited you with so far. The taste of his mouth on yours was indescribably intoxicating after so much time apart.

With you sufficiently distracted, the hands that cupped your face began to migrate. You felt so small under his touch, reduced to putty in the warm expanse of his palms. His face lowered too, freeing your mouth to moan as he placed open-mouthed kisses down the length of your neck.

Involuntarily, you gasped when his fingers pinched at one of your nipples. The curve of his smile impressed upon your throat as he suckled at the sensitive skin he found there, leaving clouds of indigo behind.

As he marked you, he rolled and tweaked your nipples in turn. Your eyes fluttered shut and you keened while your head crashed back against the pillows, “That mouth – feels s-so fucking good.” Your fingers carded through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp; his silence broke with a shuddered moan.

“S’all I want, baby,” He hummed as his lips trailed down from your neck and beyond your collarbone. “To make you feel good.”

You were trembling when he claimed one of your nipples with his mouth. Then he had the audacity to look up at you from under his lashes when he released it with a lewd pop, causing your back to arch against his chest with a gasp. There was a rumble from deep within him when your grip on his hair tightened, and the sound alone made you gush.

“To taste you,” His tongue left a wet stripe above your navel as he continued his descent, large hands dipping beneath you to squeeze the doughy flesh of your ass. Shit - you would simply never recover from this. “To devour you until you melt in my mouth.”

Another sharp tug at his hair, another guttural moan breaking free from your chest.

How often had you dreamed of this in your time apart? How many times did you try to remember how it felt when that timbre whispered sins against your naked body? Fuck. With those words alone, he had you on the brink.

You whined when he pulled away from you; but it quickly turned into a gasp when he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged you with him towards the end of the bed. Now kneeling on the floor, he ducked below your knees until they rested over the tops of his shoulders.

Face so near to your aching core, he growled, and you felt it. “I missed this pussy –” He placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, prompting you to clench them reflexively. “I missed the way your thighs squeeze around me while you fuck yourself against my tongue.”

Shivering, slack-jawed, and stupid, you grabbed fistfuls of the comforter below you. He was so painfully close to your cunt and still so fucking far from you. You knew he could see how badly you craved him - you’d beg for his mouth if you had to.

Of course, you didn’t have to - you never did.

Seconds before your impatience could drive you fully insane, he was on you, tongue flat against your cunt, dragging up against your slit. When the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit, you cried out with a buck of your hips. His grip on you tightened, pinning you flush against him as he teased you.

“That it’s, baby. Good girl.”

It’s a miracle either one of you could form words with how relentlessly he licked, nipped, and suckled on your throbbing cunt. All you could do was babble in response to his praise – until the tip of his tongue penetrated your weeping hole, and you screamed.

A flurry of curse words spilled from your lips; his name sprinkled in between the obscenities. Fuck, you needed more. More, more, more. You extended your arm and reclaimed your grasp on his locks. Once you did, you began to grind yourself against his tongue until your abdominal muscles burned - you hadn’t utilized them to this extent since the last time.

His hand squeezed your thigh, goading you, encouraging you to use him the way you needed to. The pressure of his tongue increased with your pace. You had no control over the sounds you made; the breathless moans escaped you before you could think of trapping them. The coil was tightening, burning red-hot in the pit of your belly.

So good, so good, so g –

“Fuck!”

One by one, your muscles tensed in quick succession until your body shook violently in his grip. Toes curling, back arching, head crashing backwards into the pillows, mewling.

When you finally gathered the strength to re-open your bleary eyes, there were spots dotting the edges of your vision – and then there was Namjoon, fuck-drunk between your weakened knees, with a mixture of his saliva and your orgasm shining on his chin.

Lustful eyes locked squarely on your flushed face; his tongue slid from between his swollen lips to attend to the mess you’d made of him. His panting rivaled yours, but unlike you, he was still capable of speech.

“I will never – ever – get tired of watching you come,” he sighed before wiping his mouth against the back of his hand, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

As he climbed back on top of you, he placed a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead. “So vulnerable –” Then the tip of your nose. “So vocal –” Then, too briefly, your lips. “Perfect.”

“Joon,” You murmured against his lips. His mouth curved into a smile at the nickname, which you used almost exclusively to win arguments, or to persuade him to do something. It worked every time.

He nudged your nose with the tip of his as he tried to conceal his laugh. “Baby?”

The fond look in his eyes was quickly covered by fluttering eyelids as your fingertips whispered down over his chest. They snapped open and bored into you as your fingers slid over the waistband of his joggers, tracing a feather-light trail over the bulge below. You felt his cock twitch autonomously against the warmth of your palm.

“Shit,” He hissed through gritted teeth as you squeezed him. Eyes drifting shut once again; he rolled his hips to exacerbate the friction. His neck tensed, head thrown back, when you finally dipped under the elastic and took him into your hand. Skin to skin, burning up.

The next moan from his fawning mouth was something you hadn’t heard in his voice for months – your name. “I need you. Now.”

In the few moments he pulled away to remove his pants, a chill crept in and settled where the weight of his body had just been.

There it is again, you thought, the feeling of having him and losing him.

When this night was over and he was gone from you, would he stay that way? Should you have gone this far, knowing nothing would be different in the daylight?

You were blinking fast when he reclaimed the space above you. Something flickered in his eye as he assessed the look on your face, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you so gently that you could’ve imagined it – but so completely that your brain could never have fabricated it. Not successfully, anyway.

You’d already tried.

Breaking apart once more, he reached down and stroked himself slowly. His eyes never left yours. You both held your breath as he slid into you, millimeter by millimeter, reminding your body – after all this time – how to take him. All of him, to the hilt, until you could finally exhale.

Stretched to accommodate his width, so fucking full, you saw a way out of the nothing that had you trapped like quicksand. It was him, always. Your safe haven.

Neither of you could speak once he began rolling his hips against you. The quiet was electrified by heavy breaths and whimpers. The wet heat of your cunt squelched as your walls enveloped him, just as unwilling to let him go as the rest of you.

Over and over, he grinded into you, dragging his length across your most sensitive places; hips swiveling slightly to the side as he pushed and pulled himself through you, the way he knew you liked it.

Open mouth beside his ear, you keened and sighed, wordlessly informing him that you wouldn’t last much longer. He was perfectly attuned to your subconscious movements, and he responded to each of them without hesitation.

He’d never need to be reminded that the fingernails digging into his biceps meant faster, and the upward tilt of your jaw meant deeper. That when your eyebrows rose above your closed lids, you were seconds away from your release.

He remembered exactly how to fuck you through your orgasm when it came – shallow, staccato thrusts that unraveled you further as you writhed against the sheets. The spot on your neck to nip at like some secret switch, praise dripping hot in your ear like honey.

“Such a good girl, squeezing me like this,” He panted, “Taking me so well – so fucking perfect for me, angel.”

As soon as you crashed down through the atmosphere, his movements threatened to ricochet you right back into space. You keened helplessly with your half-numbed fingers gripping any part of him where they could find purchase.

“I c-can't stop -” You mewled, “How am I s-still c-coming?”

His response didn’t come in the form of words. His lips collided with yours hard enough to clink teeth as he drove himself deeper and deeper and deeper. Sloppy, kiss-bitten lips laying claim; relentless in their mutual need for closeness. Your walls were still fluttering around him – was this your second orgasm or your third? - when he moaned into your mouth.

Every part of him tensed above, around, and inside you as the flood of his release filled every crevice of your cunt.

Breathing ragged, his head fell into the crook of your shoulder. Considerate as ever, he tried so hard to keep his full weight off you, but his exhaustion undermined his efforts. You didn’t mind at all – you’d re-build your home there, staying forever between his body and that borrowed bed if you could.

But you couldn’t, could you? If you felt empty before, how could you feel whole again after this? His name etched itself into your ribcage, and now your body would never re-acclimate to his absence.

Why did you do this to yourself?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight when you felt tears prickling in their corners.

Everything you felt for him – over the course of two years – came crashing down over you. You buried your face into his shoulder and tried your best to keep your crying to yourself.

You’d never get his scent off your body now.

He could sense your shaking; it forced his heavy lids open.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” you sniffled, silently begging yourself to stop. You felt yourself shrinking under his eye. It would only be a matter of time before you disappeared entirely.

His tone dripped with concern, serving only to deepen that infernal ache in the pit of your stomach. “With what?”

“All the love I have for you. I don’t –” You sobbed, “I don’t know where to put it now.”

His breath caught in his throat as if you’d punched him straight in the chest. If you listened hard enough, you might’ve heard his heart break. You could certainly feel it in the way he tensed in your arms.

When he moved off you, you feared the worst – that your incessant crying overflowed the bathtub, and your admission was the toaster thrown recklessly inside. But unlike the last time, he didn’t leave - and neither did you.

The mattress shifted as he claimed the space at your side - where he should have been all this time. Strong arms enveloped you as he turned to face you, and even though he held you, he couldn’t stop you from shattering.

For a while, he let you. Squeezed you hard, stroked your hair the way he used to, let you cry out all the poison that filled the spaces in the cavern of your chest.

And when you could finally breathe again, he kissed your forehead. “I’ll trade you for it.”

(1/8/23): Check out the sequel, Redamancy, here.

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khruschevshoe · 5 months

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OFMD Critique: Finales, Writing Backwards, and the Importance of Building Relationships

Continuing on the rambling meta bc it turns out there are a couple of people that responded well to my initial thoughts...

Am I the only one that felt like the OFMD Season 2 finale suffered from the exact same problem as the Game of Thrones or the How I Met Your Mother Season finales? Well, not exactly the same, but lemme explain.

The treatment of Izzy Hands in Season 2 of OFMD feels like when they sat down to write this season, they wrote his death scene first (for whatever reasons that might be, though likely for the sake of Ed's arc- we're not going to address my feelings on THAT rn), THEN backfilled his arc for the rest of the season based on that, but then didn't rewrite his death scene to address the stuff that organically happened when writing the rest of the season.

Like, for example, I've seen plenty of people point out that the deathbed apology from Izzy to Ed doesn't really work (I fed your darkness) both in regards to the sheer imbalance of damage shown onscreen between Ed and Izzy, but also doesn't work as a "putting Blackbeard behind us" scene when Izzy figuratively (and literally, if you count him as part of the group with the cannonball) killed his half of Blackbeard in the storm scene in 2x2, with whatever parts lingering in him killed with the unicorn scene in 2x4. After this point, his arc and his focus has very, very little to do with Blackbeard or hell, Ed in general besides the couple of comments made to Ed and Stede that cement that Izzy is happy that Ed moved on and found someone that makes him happy.

Izzy's arc has left Blackbeard behind already. He has already hit the emotional beat that the finale wants to retread.

And then the other part of his deathbed comments to Ed- "the crew loves you, Ed"- makes no sense from the Ed side of things. The show built up an arc for Izzy that would make people care when he died, but that arc was literally about the crew literally putting aside their differences/fear/distrust of each other to help, support, and accept Izzy as their figurehead, their protector, their friend, their recovery, their family, their (insert positive symbolism/metaphor for all of the VARIOUS implied flirtations here).

What did they have with Ed? Other than his moments with Stede and Fang, what relationships were built up before Izzy's death? Calypso's birthday included no scenes of the crew interacting with Ed other than the short Archie/Ed/Stede convo at the beginning. We get none of him talking to them when prepping for the party. He spends 2x7 and 2x8 with Stede, only having scenes with Stede, never building anything with the crew.

THE LAST SUBSTANTIAL INTERACTION ED HAS WITH THE CREW BEFORE IZZY DIES IS THE "INFLUENCER APOLOGY" IN 2X5 (other than with Fang in the boat). Holy shit, I didn't even realize that until I got to this point in the meta. I had realized that something felt wrong/off about the "the crew loves you line," but I thought that it was because 2x1-2x3 cast such a long shadow on the rest of the season that it was impossible to escape. No, there were cracks in the back half of the season as well.

All of which is to say: if you have to kill Izzy (which you really, really don't, btw, it makes little sense in a show where pretty much every character has survived a near death experience with nary a scratch, but for the sake of hypothetical), there is a way you can pull it off: you have the crew at Izzy's side as he dies instead of Ed. You have their relationship with Izzy at the forefront, because their relationship is the one that matters at this point in the narrative. You have Izzy die trying to save one of them, not by random gunshot.

And then after Izzy dies, you finally give the crew their agency back. You let Izzy's death be the last straw in THEIR arcs. You let them tell Ed that they cannot allow him to stay on the ship after everything. You let them tell him that they are putting their foot down, and he can go retire if he wants, but they will not let him destroy this crew anymore.

(Or, you know, you can have all of that with a death SCARE instead of an actual death, and allow Izzy to sail off into the sunset as a first mate instead of as a dead body. Because that would suit the tone of the show and the story better.)

But I have the feeling that point B (Izzy dying/his death scene) was the thing that was decided on first, and so the budget crunch/other factors may have led the writers into making the same mistake as so many before them have: writing point A out organically, and then failing to change Point B when it no longer fit the story they had written.

#izzy hands #ofmd critical #2x08 mermen #ofmd 2x08 #ed teach critical #meta #fix it #kind of #analysis #i know I'm rambling #calypsos birthday #we really ahould have taken the “red flags” episode title more seriously #ofmd meta

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soraviie · 1 year

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you're oblivious.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff + crack ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: lowkey inspired by a video of Hoseok being oblivious to BTS. Literary wise is not that complicated but it's humourous

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

sAVE HIM

Literally

He’s struggling so bad bro it’s not even funny

Fights the battle against your ignorance on two sides

By night, he’s your suave secret admirer, leaving behind finely crafted letters of adoration that would put the brightest of the Romantic Age into a second grave

By day, he’s fucking shitting himself

Knees weak, palms sweaty, mom’s spaghetti

“This is made of silk,” he tugs at his own shirt during a short elevator ride

“Hmm,” comes your reply and from the gleam in your eye, he might just bear this suspicion you’re orbiting Mars right now

Alas he can’t stop

Because Holy SHIT! You’re here! Hi!

(truthfully, in the beginning, he was somehow much more put together, wowing you with sleazy smiles, breathy laughs and all the glory of that fuckboy gene that sleeps somewhere in his DNA but after that flew over your head and he listened to a podcast about the scarcity of sincere romantic gestures and the respect of polite admiration, the attempts to seduce you grow exponentially worse with time)

“It’s not velvet because it doesn’t feel velvety. Or tweed. Because obviously, it’s not…tweedy.”

“I see,” you conclude, dead to the world. “Have a nice day, Mr Kim.”

Watches you leave, bites on his fist, bites on his shirt, sulks the day away

plEASE just let him talk to you, I beg

Wants to hear your opinion, your insights, what you like and dislike, everything

Thus he tries to break the ice by initiating the dumbest subjects

“Grape?” he leans against the table, a total playboy. “Thoughts?”

“Of a singular grape?” you clarify

He sweats. “yEah.”

“None,” you reply flatly

So think a teenage boy with a crush but more wholesome

If he’s ever seen talking to you and/or trying to subtly touch you (which is another thing on its own) know that the last twenty minutes were spent shitting, screaming, vomiting

Ah! The Touching!

Tries to be subtle and casual - a hand over your shoulder because of some vague reasons, plays with your clothes a lot while pointing out this looks pretty on you

HAND! ON! LOWER! WAIST!

The excuse is he’s just guiding you where you need to be

And where you need to be is in his arms

And his bed he's actually so horny for you damn checking out left and right and then feeling conflicted over it because as a man...!

All this circus is, of course, detrimental to everyone’s mental health

It is deeply painful to watch

Yoongi probably goes around citing the long-term health damage this inflicts upon him

In the end, Namjoon is ousted by someone in the group. Anonymously but still the e-mail “Go out with Namjoon, he’s the one writing the letters. You have 24 hours.” is accompanied by “sent from Jimin’s iPhone”

YOONGI:

What have you done

You’ve created a monster!

When the saccharine first stage of catching feelings is gone with no results, honey boy, shyly twitching and squirming at every sentence, smiling softly at you in the distance, is no longer

This is Min Yoongi a.k.a. Agust D a.k.a. don’t wear converse a.k.a. the infamous Tokyo deliverer

Because, yes, Yoongi is not the stone-cold bastard everyone thinks he is, he’s actually a caring, considerate man interested in the simple life not the grand scheme of the universe

But you must remember - what Yoongi wants, Yoongi gets

You’ve ever seen shameless Min Yoongi?

Lord

He will not give a single shit

Will sit in your lap even with 1000 chairs available, invites you to dinner all the time with some handwavy excuse

Turns into his version of a whore (wears one layer instead of three)

(tight, white t-shirts displaying the Min Buffgi agenda, hello)

Points at a tattoo parlour and says you should get each other’s names engraved then he sort of laughs but does he??

Has created a ship name for you and does bring it up at any moment he pleases to be fit which is coincidentally all the time

Definitely says “this is because I like you” in passing

But all in all, you can sEE it in HIS EYES!

They sparkle!

Requests your presence like a tyrannical king if he’s feeling down

Gives you probably weirdly affectionate names like “heater” or “vitamin water” meaning you make him warm and energized

Sorry, he just can’t get anything like “honey” past his lips so “solar panel” it is

To keep you around him longer plays his favourite version of the game "two truths one lie" which is "all lie, pure shit"

Basically says the most blatantly untrue shit so you would sit and debate that coconuts in fact do not migrate due to birds

Sometimes he's still not up to talk and wants to just submerge himself in the music but even so, oftentimes he's okay with you chilling on the couch doing your own thing

Basically having a crush for him means wanting head pats and then doing the absolute most to receive them (while taking good care of you in turn)

JIN:

Clings

He doesn't usually do that so that's how everyone knows something's up

Back hugs because it’s cold, back hugs because it’s warm, it’s raining in Madagascar, he doesn’t care

Paradoxically, says the most ego-inflated things whilst sweltering red like a forest fire

“Look at me, haven’t I passed even my normal rate of attractiveness? I’m definitely 12 today,” says he whilst pushing hair out of his forehead, thus showcasing the flaming ears

He will NOT! have anyone embarrass him during this crucial time!

If any one of these degenerates opens their foul fucking mouth to spill the practice conversation he had between himself and the mirror, he will kICK THEM INTO THE SUN!

Lame, couple puns

All the time

Neverending

He has to rehash them after a while

Really wants to make you laugh :(

Wants your compliments so bad, he's fishing for them every second of the day

hehe fishing get it because he likes to fish

“Doesn’t this shirt match my hair?” he asks

“Hmm. You look like a grapefruit.”

Turns away in shame, palm over mouth

Definitely hands RJ so you could watch over him

It’s his child so he wants only the most elite care and seeing you play with the plush has him melting in heart-shaped goo

Ooo! Smooth Jin has entered the station! He’s boarding the train! Look at him go!

Whispers in your ear, establishes his dominance over the seat next to you, makes up the most random bullshit for you to touch him - can you adjust this, adjust that, could you help him brush his hair etc.

Oh, and if you don’t take proper care of yourself, he activates his strict care mode

You know those moments when Jin becomes The Eldest? Hot

“All life is precious,” says with a frown but one born out of worry standing in front of you, arms on hips as you sit there with your head hung low. “Your’s even more so don’t be careless with it.”

But after scolding he treats you either via food or by saying he's just worried for you

Definitely offers to do something for you and throws fake tantrums about it

"Ah, __________, I can't believe you're making me pay for this meal!"

"I'm not ??? I can pay for my own share if your rich ass is so stingy."

Pouts to the max -

"Yah, you don't think I can take care of you?! Yah, you're underestimating me. Oh, ____________ you won't be underestimating ever again!"

HOSEOK:

Doesn’t embarrass himself quite as much as the rest

He’s actually kinda chill about it

Perhaps because he’s been the oblivious one in the past and he’s reserved himself

And he doesn’t want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable

One word that comes to mind - solid

(not that, you pervert)

Trustworthy you know

Offers a ride everywhere whenever he can especially from home to work and back

Do you need something? He’s got it. Do you want extra help? He’ll do it

You're sad?

He'll cheer you up in no time

So really becomes like your rock

Starts nonsensical conversations as well but unlike Namjoon he actually succeeds

“This one they had in pink last year, it was all over Instagram. How is it purple now?”

“Dunno,” you look at the flowers. “Maybe different species. Maybe they repainted them. Purple is trendy right now.”

“Haha, borahae.”

Then plucks one flower and tugs it behind your ear

“There. Pretty.”

Feeds you a lot, really attentive

Doesn’t really care what you see him as for now - a friend or a helpful guy - as long as you’re living good, he’s happy :’)

The only thing giving away his crush is the constant playing with his ears to alleviate nervousness

And the handmade jewellery, for sure has by now given you ten to twelve handmade bracelets which he nearly passed away when gifting

Whenever he sees them on your wrists gets ultra shy but happy cause this might actually happen in due time

JIMIN:

Did I say save Namjoon? Save this guy

You don’t know what his deal is? He doesn’t either

Know of his duality? Prepared to be exposed to it on a rhythmic rotation from here on out

Was he just yesterday, playing with your earring, whispering in a sultry, whiny tone:

“Why don’t you like me, __________?”

“I do like you.”

“You could like me a bit more. I would really like it if you would.”

And is he now, on this fine fucking day, hiding behind Namjoon whispering into his ear to tell you you’re doing a great job?!

Yes.

He’s feeling shy today :(

Lingering touches all the time

It’s a scientific fact published in the new issue of an international medical journal - if he’s going ten minutes without touching you, his kidneys, lungs, stomach and tendons experience abrupt and painful deterioration

So you better get your ass here asap :)

He’s stretching? Somehow hugging you. You’re sitting? His hand is on your thigh

HAND! ON! THE! THIGH!

It's like an entirely new brand of love for him and there are many different flavours to this

Calming, comforting, jealous, they’re mine back off

Cutely annoys you for attention

Like standing in the doorway, asking you 1000 times if he’s cute or not, sing songs your name for no reason

Oh my god, mentions your name at random times of the day, sometimes while singing, sometimes improvising a tune, sometimes just underneath his breath

You're always on his mind, so naturally, it sits on his tongue all the time as well

A stream nay an ocean of compliments, not just to you but to everyone whose listening

Or is forced to listen

Like Taehyung whose ear he has yapped off already

Because to him, you are the best and everyone else should also think that

“Hey, isn’t ___________ so cool these days?” “You always look so bright!” “Thank you, _____________, you’re an angel! We can be a fairy angel duo!”

And then the other shoe drops

Shameless Jimin is a menace and a half

Biting his lips, laughing breathily, sorta being a dom

“Don’t pout, _________, brats don’t get awards” :)

“You should look only at me, got it” :)

Just really sweet, cute, menacing, really caring and attentive if you’re feeling down

Oh and lest we forget his special soft whiny voice! In full throttle when you’re around

“_________, we should be around each other for a very long time.”

TAEHYUNG:

Does this seem menacing? Because Taehyung is

Where does one even start with this little shit?

Says the most heinous, out-of-pocket shit.

“__________, I want to see what our children would look like.”

And if you somehow manage to not see it, when Taehyung is as subtle as the asteroid that plunged Earth into the Ice age, that’s fine he’s just going to be even bolder :)

Treats it almost like a game

The more oblivious you are, the more he’ll hammer through the walls of blindness :) don’t worry :) he’ll succeed next time :)

Unlike Jimin who probably has a laugh of “how they’re so blind”, his laugh says “you’re so cute :) I’ll get you next time”

Gift giving!

Waffles, flowers, little jewellery brought with no excuse or explanation

Always ropes you into doing something together, even if it’s something silly

He’s confident but it is warm and yeah kind of cocky but with no malice behind it

It’s like he’s oozing a pink romantic light from within

Watches out for you, like proper gentleman stuff - walks on the side of the road in case of splashes, pulls out the chair, waits for you to finish work to accompany you home

But no personal space you just have to live with it

If there’s music can and will dance with you ranging from a slow waltz to nuzzling you whilst swaying

Definitely does weird things like if you bump into something, he must “inspect the damage” which means sitting you down and lowkey and respectfully admiring you and softly touching you (in appropriate places, you pervs)

If he annoys you so much, you threaten to put him in a chokehold, he looks like a man in the gate of Heaven

Honey, darling, lovely is a must

Has his gallery full of pictures of you (taken consensually) though I always imagine them as being super blurry

He's a blurry sorta guy

Says he misses you a lot even if you haven't gone anywhere

Definitely has had a conversation about your past lives and that you must have met at some point

He’s persistent but not in a creepy way, only does this much because he sees you being oblivious but not weirded out by all these gestures

Definitely and 100% insists that his angel brought you to him

JUNGKOOK:

If there wouldn’t be a child protection squad engaged at all times, he would have already snapped his neck trying to impress you

Giggles a lot!

Sort of jokes about it

Like if you somehow end up lying next to each other, he will say something like “oo the air changes, it’s becoming heavy”

Definitely adds your gestures to the infinite list to mimic

But genuinely does pick up your habits because he’s watching you a lot

Protective! To the max!

If you’re scared of anything, anything at all, be it a stranger or a moth, he’ll be there to avert the threat

Calls you his dog’s other parent for sure and instructs Bam especially to protect you

Very cuddly once he gets to know you

At first not really talkative mostly just reacts to you, laughing along your jokes, commenting on how good you’re doing something but then asks for your opinions, invites you to play games and such

If you’re mad at him - the literal impersonation of 🥺

Holds your hand while walking sometimes and then teases himself for it???

Who knows what goes on in that head

Gets jealous and definitely glares if someone is trying to make moves even if you’re not together

Afterwards, he pouts and whines

"They're not even that great. I can do all that and more"

Does and promises to do stupid things to impress you, like if you need to move a table, he’ll definitely bust through the wall and say all cool like “I can get it by myself, don’t worry” only to strain his muscles

Shows off his tattoos and if you want to get one as well will be so enthusiastic, you’ll get the best parlour in the city, the most thorough care afterwards provided by him of course

At times when he’s talking and you turn to look at him, his brain stops and there’s audible error noise coming behind those eyes

Sometimes he stutters when speaking to you, especially if trying to be smooth but he’s doing his best

Actually, he's the hottest when he's not trying

Like he's driving you back home, music on the low playing all sexy and he's like clicking his tongue while leaning back into the seat

And that does something to your brain, breaks through the wall and surmises a point that this dude is actually kind of hot

And he's taking special care of you

He then turns and chuckles taking in your wide eyes

"Do I have something on my face?" he asks. "Or have you begun liking me, ____________?"

You blush and look out the window

"It's nothing"

He doesn't push further but secretly hopes to high heaven you do

Has told about you indirectly to his mom by asking questions about how people like to be wooed

But then definitely has that shy smile when she teases him about it

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leventart-den · 6 months

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This should have been Sanji's Angst idea for a few sentences, I swear.

I'm still on episode 229 of One Piece so all my knowledge is only from spoilers and fanfiction and that means I know very little regarding Sanji's story. But the few fanfics I've seen about "Germa Sanji" make my brain work.

I just can't help but think what if Sanji had run away when he was little and met Zeff. So he learned to cook, fight with his feet, and was shaped enough as a person into the Sanji we know. But then, about a year before the canon meeting with Luffy and the others, he was somehow found and kidnapped back to Vinsmoke. He was again experimented, tortured and trained into the perfect soldier. Although his emotions could not be eradicated from him, so he is constantly kept on drugs that suppress emotions and feelings.

So these few years while the Straw Hats sailed the seas on adventures, Sanji did the dirty work of an assassin for Germa and the Vinsmoke. And then one day the target that Sanji was ordered to eliminate turned out to be the Straw Hat pirates. Of course this didn't end well for him and here he is tied up on their ship in the middle of the sea with Zoro as his overseer most of the time (hi ZoSan). He caused them problems in the first days, constantly running away and not having anywhere to escape, which ended in constant fights. Poor Usopp and Chopper all this time felt as if they were in a horror movie with a maniac on a ship who was hunting them. The nights were the most terrible times for them. Poor souls.

Although as the days passed, his escapes and attacks became less frequent. The crew did not understand why and were very suspicious of this. On Sanji's part, the reason was that the drugs with which he was pumped began to fizzle out and without a new dose he began to come to his senses. His emotions and feelings began to return and he began to wonder what he was doing and why, no longer being a weak-willed killing tool for his father. He began to remember Zeff and all the "good things". Although with this came the other side of the coin - a terrible withdrawal from the drugs to which his body had become so accustomed over all these years. The flow of negative feelings along with good ones turned out to be no less difficult. Sanji began to feel as if he was literally going crazy and dying. Although, he thought, maybe this is not so bad after all the terrible deeds that he committed and everything that his blood family and those around him did to him.

The first couple of days were the most difficult because his training and the remnants of drugs in his mind competed with his awakening feelings and it drove him crazy. Those few times between the lulls in which he tried to escape and attack, Sanji was no longer a cold-blooded killer, but rather a driven monster. The crew had already begun to seriously worry about Zoro, who at these moments was left alone with him, only being able to hear all the screams and growls of anger and the sounds of a fight that made the walls crack.

It always ended in blood with Sanji manhandled and pinned to the floor and Zoro with another broken rib but on top, breathing heavily into Sanji's ear another "had enough?" And getting no answer, Zoro always dragged him back to the post, tying him up again. He wishes they had chains because the ropes are starting to run low with this bastard. He's strong, Zoro has to admit.

Although as the days pass, Sanji becomes less aggressive and more exhausted and sick mentally and physically. This stirred a spark of concern among the crew. Because when the constant battles for life and adrenaline began to end, they were finally able to look at the situation soberly. Everything about this guy was strange and abnormal. His eyes now had a very different look than when they first met. Not to mention his general demeanor. He even thanked Nami when she brought him food one day and tried to smile. Although it was very crooked and uncertain, like a shadow. It was as if the muscles of his face had become unaccustomed to this emotion and were trying to remember what it was like to smile. At some point, even Chopper, who was very afraid of him, volunteered to visit and check his condition, under the supervision of Zoro, of course.

Everything goes well in the sense that Sanji behaves relatively calmly, even perhaps overly clinical when answering Chopper's questions after learning that he is a "doctor". As if he was used to answering them. This worries the little reindeer. And not only this. What he learns about the condition of their unwanted guest upsets Chopper to the core. He expected anything but this. Awareness of the true situation turns everything upside down. When he leaves the cabin to meet the others, he does not explain anything (doctor's code not to disclose patient's secrets) but asks them to trust him and follow the instructions.

Over the next hour or so, the place where they are holding Sanji (they finally learn that this is his name) becomes more like a room with a mattress and a blanket laid down. A jug of water and a glass and a plate of sandwiches on a makeshift table from a box. They are hanging a few more lamps to make it brighter. Several books are placed not far from him. The ropes were removed although Zoro was now watching him even more closely.

The swordsman knows what this man is capable of better than any of them, he cannot underestimate the enemy. Although the more he watches him and listens to what he says to others, the more he feels the atmosphere is inexorably changing. He no longer clutches the hilt of his sword at every unexpected movement of the curly-browed man.

The Straw Hat Pirates don't know how or when it happened, but Sanji slowly but surely turned from a threat to someone who needed help in their perception and, a little later, a member of their crew. It’s just that one morning, when Zoro came to his shift, he didn’t find him in the room but with Luffy in the kitchen. He was making breakfast with unstable hands while their captain sat on a stool and silently smiled as he watched.

This was their new beginning.

#sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #zosan #zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece #sanji angst

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blainesebastian · 6 months

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no regrets

ship: austin butler x female reader rating: PG word count: 2,145 summary: basically this is all bri's fault. "you need to do something with this...you meet him at a yoga class" definitely inspired by long-haired austin warnings: none notes: this was lowkey and fun :) appreciate you bri, as always. i know zero percent about yoga, literally googled 'simple yoga poses' and went from there--so the description of getting into said poses might be inaccurate. taglist: @stylespresleyhearted, @austinbutlermischief, @killerqueenfan

You have no idea how you allowed yourself to be talked into a yoga class.

And here’s the thing—it wasn’t by a friend or co-worker, not family or seeing an advertisement somewhere with a good deal, you’re the one who convinced yourself it was a good idea. Just wanted to try something new, not exactly interested in working out or toning your body, nothing like that—but just to gain a different experience, see what all the hype was about. You at least did enough research not to end up in a hot yoga class, jesus, you’d definitely expire in one of those.

Stretches and calming breathing though? How bad could it be?

Apparently bad when your limbs don’t know how to do simple poses…like you’re pretty sure your elbows and knees didn’t get the memo about directions they’re supposed to go.

…really mastered the Corpse Pose though.

You let out a long breath that flutters your hair as you sit up, a bit of sweat sticking to your skin as you take a look around at some other people in the class that seem to have easily adapted to the routine. The guy in front of you is definitely smirking as he wraps up his mat, looking like he’s entertaining the thought of saying something. You narrow your eyes, pulling your hair free from the braid to get it out of your face by doing a high bun.

“First time?” He asks as you get up and…did your bones just make a low cracking noise in protest?

Picking up your mat, you get a better look at him and…well, not that he was difficult to notice while the class was going on. He was positioned right in front of you, long lines, muscular tone, long blonde hair tied up in a loose bun. There’s a pretty flush to his cheeks now from the workout, his cupid-bow lips full and pink.

Not that you’re staring or anything.

“Oh no, I come all the time—I adapted the Corpse Pose into something called the ‘dead fish’, couldn’t you tell?” You smile a little, uncapping some water to take a few large sips.

He tosses his bag over his shoulder and both of you slowly follow the crowd out of the yoga room, “I was hopin’ the instructors would notice that and implement it into the usual line up.”

You smirk, your stomach doing a swirled flip at the teasing in his voice. He’s attractive, really no denying that, “Not sure I’m coming back for another round, I can’t feel the bottom of my spine.”

Laughing lightly, he pulls the elastic from his hair and…clearly he didn’t do a ton of sweating during the workout, soft blonde waves fall to his shoulders. He runs his hand through them, reaching into his bag for his water.

“It gets better the more you do it,” He says, breaking your concentration. You blink, refocusing on him talking instead of his hair, “You’d probably benefit from a Plank or Baby Cobra.”

You blink, “You’re just saying words, I have no idea what that means.”

He grins, glancing towards the exit before turning his head back to look at you. There’s a definite moment where his eyes trace you up and down, making that flurry of butterflies in your stomach explode outward.

“Well if you come back, I’ll show you.”

Is this man seriously flirting with you at a yoga class? Though, to be honest, it’s almost refreshing. You’ve kind of sworn off dating because places like bars notoriously have terrible guys approaching you with overused lines and unable to handle words like ‘no, thanks’. So…what’s the harm in coming back at least one more time for a cute guy that obviously knows how to stretch?

“Are you asking me on a date to a yoga class?” You throw out there, raising your eyebrows. You’ve always been one that’s forward—why waste time?

He picks up on it easily, doesn’t seem to be the type that backs down either. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try out.”

You smile a little and nod slowly, “Alright, one more class—I think that’s all my body can take.” You reach out your hand to shake his, “Y/N.”

“Austin,” He replies, “Don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you.”

He winks before heading out the door. What’s the worst that could happen? You pull a muscle? Least you’ll be seeing him in those workout pants again…and honestly? Seems like an even trade.

Hot-Yoga-Guy (Austin—which, you know his name, you should really start calling him by it) wants to meet up for smoothies before the next yoga class. Despite the fact that you kinda find smoothies texturally weird, how can you deny saying yes when he asks? Besides, the dude totally seems like the type that lives in smoothie bars—probably has a recommendation of fruit combinations at the ready.

Except, when you show up you expect him to be in his gym attire since that’s the only thing you’ve seen him in. Fits the whole hot-yoga-guy-who-drinks-smoothies archetype, and yet—

He’s wearing dark blue jeans, a white button-down shirt, black leather jacket and booties. That beautiful blonde hair of his is flowing over his shoulders and…jesus, you didn’t remember how attractive he was. You’re kinda just staring at him from the doorway until someone comes in after you and practically knocks you over attempting to get in line to order. Whoops.

He turns a little and smiles when he notices you’ve walked in, motioning you over to a small table by the window he’s snagged. Carrying your gym bag with your change of clothes for yoga (and two bottles of water, you learned from the last time that hydration is not overrated), you set it down on the floor and plop into the chair across from him.

“Hi,” You breathe out, “So I gotta admit, never really done the whole smoothie thing before—much more of a froyo girl.”

“First the yoga and now this,” Austin teases, “Feel like you really need a hands-on guide.”

“Well as long as you’re offering.” You grin—definitely okay with his hands on…anything.

You get to know one another over your smoothies (curated by Austin because there’s almost too much to choose from. Strawberry-banana isn’t too bad, or maybe you’re just distracted by the ocean-blue eyes in front of you, up for debate). You learn that Austin’s interested in becoming a serious actor, a mark that he wants to grow into and leave behind, something that hasn’t quite happened yet but you’re sure will at some point. He’s charismatic and personable—what’s not to like on a big screen? You share about your passions too—that you teach first grade history but what you’d really like to do some day is write a book, it’s all mapped out in your head…you’ve just never been brave enough to type it out.

“Too afraid it’ll somehow fail, I guess.” You admit, throwing away your empty smoothie cup.

Austin holds the door open for you, both making your way outside. The yoga studio is just around the block,

“Yeah, I get that,” He curls some of his hair behind his ear, “Problem with that is, you’ll never know if you don’t try it out.”

You hum lightly, “You’re makin’ too much sense.”

He smiles a little, “Let’s just say I’ve had the same talk with myself a few times, got it memorized by now.”

And maybe it’s that easy? Putting yourself out there, seeing what happens. Austin’s got a point—if you don’t try and write a novel, or put your thoughts on paper, it’s only ever going to be a ‘what if’. That’s not something you constantly want to live with like a black cloud hanging over your head.

When you get home that night, you begin organizing your thoughts on different colored post its, categorizing your ideas. It’s the most inspired you’ve felt in a long time.

Two yoga classes turn into four, which turn into six and…even by the eighth class? You’re not getting any better at this whole balance and stretching stuff. Though to do be honest, it’s not like you don’t know you’re there for pretty much one thing—and it’s not strengthening your core.

You’ve decided, very adult-like, that you hate the instructor and the sound of her voice when she tries to get you the Low Lunge Pose and…how do people even stretch their legs straight out like that?

“I think I pulled something in my back,” You pout, flat on your yoga mat after most people have packed up and left. Austin is rolling his own mat up, a chuckle rumbling in his chest at your predicament.

You want to glare at him but as your eyes find him, kinda hard to feel anything but pure attraction. His blonde hair is up in a messy bun, the muscles in his arms on display thanks to the shirt he’s wearing, and his skin is kissed with a light sheen of sweat. Unfair, really.

“You know—most people get better with practice,” He teases, setting his bag down and sitting himself next to you.

Luckily it doesn’t seem like another class is coming in to see you pathetically stretched out on your mat, slowly dying.

“I really think yoga isn’t for me,” You laugh lightly, sitting up. Ouch.

“Then why’d you keep comin’?”

Turning your head, you raise your eyebrows at Austin, “Oh come on, it’s not obvious?”

He smiles a little, nodding as he looks down at the mat. “Your back isn’t straight enough with the Low Lunge, that’s why you can’t get your leg up.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, “You checkin’ me out?”

Austin grins, “I’m checkin’ out the terrible yoga pose, yeah.”

You snicker a little, putting yourself on your knees before letting out a dramatic breath, “Well—c’mon coach, help me out here.”

He offers you a hand to get you off the floor and then…those hands move your hips to position you onto the mat. You can feel the heat of his skin through your leggings and the sound of a roaring ocean fills your ears for a moment. Shaking your head, you push a random strand of hair out of your face before you concentrate on what he’s saying.

“Okay, so feet first—” He lines you up and encourages you to bend forward, “Hands flat on the mat…” Austin is patient as you haphazardly follow the instructions, “Okay, now straighten your back…”

You let out a long sigh, remembering to breathe. The first time you did this whole yoga thing you were holding your breath and nearly passed out. Good times.

His hand curves around the front of your leg, the one you’re going to lift and…are you really expected to concentrate when you can feel his fingers on your thigh? A shiver slithers down your spine, creating goosebumps on your arms. God, you’re feeling lightheaded—are you still breathing through the pose? You blink a few times and lift your leg, Austin helping you straighten it.

“Okay, good, now hold for thirty seconds.”

Thirty seconds? There’s a slight groan that leaves your lips, especially when Austin asks if you ‘feel the difference?’ in the pose you’re in compared to the one you attempted to do during class. You definitely feel that lower spot in your spine spasm, that’s for sure. When Austin moves to stand beside you and you’re able to keep still for about fifteen seconds before you start tipping.

There’s not even time to warn him, a soft squeak leaving your lips as you faulter, falling over and right into him. Both of you end up on the floor with a solid thunk! and a few giggles escape your lips.

“Sorry.”

Austin huffs lightly but he’s smiling, sprawled out on the floor on his back with you against his chest…least he was soft to land on. “Alright, so maybe yoga isn’t for you.” He agrees with a soft laugh.

You tip your head back a little, resting it on his shoulder before turning to look at him, “I mean, I don’t have any regrets.”

Austin licks his lips, arguably on purpose, and your gaze shifts down to his mouth. Your noses bump together in a soft bunny kiss before you close the distance, warmth bursting in your stomach and fluttering outward in your body. There’s heat in your veins that is not left behind from the workout, one of your hands moving to thread through his long hair.

The kiss ends naturally and you can’t help but smile, “Think that’s the best pose I’ve practiced in here.”

Austin smirks, brushing his lips against yours, “I call that the Multiple Kiss Pose.” Corny.

A laugh leaves your lips as he kisses you again—definitely no regrets.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x female reader #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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mrs-monaghan · 10 months

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i’m just saying but your “proof” of them being together is normal stuff friends do who are extremely close. i’ve done it with my best friends throughout my life. and i think you really should respect the fact they have all said they get uncomfortable when being shipped with their friends. plus aren’t you setting yourself for disappointment when they come out and they’re not together?

24th July 2023. All these years later and people like you still exist? Still sending questions like these?

and I think you really should respect the fact that they have all said that they get uncomfortable when being shipped with their friends

I guess we are, aren't we? Fine. Let's do this. Before we begin, please note that ONLY 2 MEMBERS have only ever addressed their shippers. Two. Not ALL. Idk who lied to u and told u they have ALL told people to stop shipping them. Shipping has been a culture in Kpop since time immemorial. It's literally part of their training. That's why they do fanservice, dum dum. V and Suga are the only two members who have ever shut down their shippers. V for Taekook and Suga for... what do you call Suga and RM together? Sugamon? Namga? Namyoon? Whatever tf their ship name is, I have no idea.

Anyway, let's jump into it. Bon Voyage season 3 episode 2.

One very important thing to note; Jimin understood the waiter perfectly. First, the waiter asked how many of them there were.

JK replied by asking for the menu

But Jimin replied; they wanted a table for 2

Second, waiter saw all the staff recording them and asked Jikook if they were camera men. Jimin for some reason said yes 😂😂

Again, JK did not understand and Jimin had to translate

So just so it's clear, Jimin understood that waiter very well. With that in mind, let's proceed.

So they go to order and JK with his limp wrist (bless him) drops his iconic "together bam"

The waiter points at them both and says "together? Alright."

Some people hear; "you're together?" And others just hear "together" anyway. It doesn't matter. If you watch the clip here you will see the waiter clearly gestures to both of them and says that. He's understood they're a couple which is why Jimin cracks up.

We have established Jimin was getting everything and he understood what the waiter meant but guess what, anon? He didn't correct him. Even if his English was quite bad at this time he knew how to say "no" but chose not to. Instead he just laughed it off. So, Jimin had a chance to shut down a Jikook rumor but... 🤷🏽‍♀️

People still thought the waiter didn't think they were a couple until an Army visited that restaurant and confirmed that was the case.

Remember when Jin asked them if they were a couple and again they just laughed it off?

Remember when RM asked if they were a couple since they were matching like a couple? Remember how once again Jikook could have denied this but didn't?

How strange anon. All these chances to shut down shippers and still they refuse to take them.

Jimin actually mumbles something after RM asks that but it doesn't get translated and even Kjikookers have admitted they can't hear it clearly. But I have heard a few say it sounds like Jimin said "we're married."

But since its not very clear, we don't go around celebrating and spreading it. Still... 😌😌

I am so confused as to where you heard that Jikook shut down their shippers. When did this happen, I wonder? Was it when JK had Jimin's ear in his mouth? Was it everytime Jimin tried to kiss JK? Or was it when they both admitted Jimin sucked on JK's neck long enough to leave a bruise aka hickey?

I've done it with my best friends through out my life.

Now anon listen, I dont judge people. Trust me, not only because the Bible says thou shall not judge, but also because I've had my fair share of slutty moments. So I will not sit here and judge you for sucking on all your bestfriends' necks and leaving bruises. How do their lovers feel about this, btw? I won't judge you if you get the urge to caress your bestfriend's balls just because. And I definitely won't judge you because you like to footsie your friends' dicks. All I can tell u is u need to be careful because it could get messy real quick. Because if someone did this to me it means they want to fuck me. And that messes with the friendship dynamic.

Idk what brought you to my blog. But I'd advice you to know your shit before you come my way next time. Have a good day and God Bless 🙏🏽

Bonus for my fellow Jikookers; Malta Jikook looking at eo. And JK is most definitely obsessed with those bratz lips 💋

#jikook analysis #ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #bts #jimin and jungkook #jimin #jungkook #kookmin #minkook #the fuckery #park jimin #jeon jungkook #if jikook isn't real then neither am i #jikook is real #bon voyage Jikook

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optiwashere · 2 months

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This seemed fun, so why not do this for my babies? Portraits taken from art in this post.

Some elaborations under the cut...

Stats

Ages are at the end of BG3. Shadowheart is at least late 40s in canon, but I always had her as 50 in my mind. She has her birthday in my fic canon during the post-Absolute Crisis rebuilding while Asheera's won't be for another few months.

Asheera is ~201cm tall, Shadowheart is ~170cm tall. Roughly 31cm height difference!

Ship Parameters

Shadowheart and Asheera both enjoy being the big spoon and little spoon, but Shadowheart prefers being nestled in Asheera's embrace. Doesn't mean for a bit that the roles aren't reversed now and again, though.

Shadowheart wears Asheera's clothes all the time. Constantly. They are, of course, comically oversized on her.

They both use pet names for one another, but Asheera fancies herself a bit of a romantic so she likes to come up with melodramatic ones ("my Heart") while Shadowheart prefers "love" and "my love." Shadowheart also calls Asheera "my Lady paladin" a lot in the fics, but IDK if you consider that a pet name or not?

Shadowheart is undoubtedly far, far, far more introverted than Asheera. In fact, Asheera is pretty extroverted in general. The extrovert/introvert ship dynamic is my catnip, how could you tell?

So, the affection one I took to mean what they prefer. Shadowheart likes quality time and affirmations while Asheera likes acts of service and quality time. However, if you imagined it as what they do then their placements would be flipped.

Shadowheart confesses love first. Affection and attraction, that's technically Asheera.

Neither of them really panic about bugs. Asheera has a bad habit of killing the little creatures though, and she has serious thoughts about her own oaths when she does it.

Horse riding... Listen, all I'm saying is Asheera riding a horse with Shadowheart behind her? Yeah. But, like, if we're literally talking about driving a car then Shadowheart can drive but if anyone else offers to drive then she's going to take the opportunity to sit in the passenger seat, curate the music, and fall asleep.

Shadowheart knows how to cook because she's an adult, but she's just terrible at it. I'm sorry, she is a horrible cook to me. Her taste buds are all fucked up from decades of sampling/testing poisons, venoms, and paralytics as a Sharran. Asheera's not much better, she just knows that if Shadowheart cooks it'll be a disaster for everyone.

Shadowheart prefers discretion and Asheera loves giving her wife big, showy kisses for all to see. They have an understanding.

Despite the jealousy levels, Asheera is prone to overprotectiveness. After everything that Shadowheart went through in her life, after everything that Asheera saw in her memories and in the events of BG3, there's no way she doesn't immediately come to Shadowheart's defense at pretty much any perceived slight. Shadowheart finds it very sweet, but unnecessary. She can defend herself just fine. Doesn't mean she hates it though.

Shadowheart has the age on Asheera by a margin, and she spent decades in a Sharran cloister. Calling them "relationships" is probably a bit much to be fair, though. This doesn't mean Asheera is some naïve virgin! She's actually more experienced with long-term relationships than Shadowheart.

Levels

They're both extremely horny, especially for one another, but Shadowheart wins out on this one by sheer excitement to try out anything and everything that she thinks Asheera would want to try. Asheera isn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination.

Shadowheart is awkward in that "sheltered in a cult commune" kinda way. She says the wildest shit sometimes and expects people to just move on from it. Someone who quotes erotica with their friend in public is going to cause others to feel awkward. Asheera on the other hand? She makes things awkward by either being way too serious about a situation or cracking bad jokes about it; there is no in-between, and nobody is sure what to expect.

Asheera doesn't get jealous. Shadowheart is jealous of things that aren't really related to their relationship. I don't think either of them gets jealous over that sorta thing. Shadowheart just has to manage her feelings about family given that Asheera has one that loves her and she was able to experience a childhood and such. That triggers jealousy which Asheera finds normal and reasonable and completely understandable. It's one of those aspects of Shadowheart's specific trauma that isn't really something you "get over" and Asheera, while finding it hurtful and hard to deal with sometimes, relies on her training and oaths as a paladin to manage that specific hurdle in their relationship.

#shadowheart #shadowtav #shadowheart x tav #bg3 tav #oc: asheera #my fic #also I did this in GIMP with a mouse and I have shaky hands so bear with me lmfao #don't mind me while I do this with every ship I have for this fandom...

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kory-dany · 11 months

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In defense of Charlotte as a mother

Quick disclaimer this post is not trying to undermine charlottegeorge's (we seriously need to come up with a better ship name) children's feelings towards their mother. Although we know very little about them, it's obvious their relationship with Charlotte isn't perfect, but if I'm being honest, I'm tired of this narrative that she was an awful mother. I 100% agree that she wasn't the best mother (tbh, none of the Bridgerton mothers are. That's what makes the show interesting), but people keep suggesting that she's Augusta-level bad, and that's just not true.

Firstly, everyone keeps forgetting that Lottie lost her parents when she was young, which suggests she didn't have a motherly presence for at least half her life. Secondly, she was eighteen when she had her first child. Eighteen and her strongest examples of motherhood were probably Agatha and Augusta (both, again, arguably not the most amazing mothers). Thirdly, she had fifteen kids. FIFTEEN!! Thirteen (twelve???) surviving, I'm not saying she didn't love them equally, but that's a lot of kids to get to know.

My main argument, however, is that Charlotte probably was not the best mother, and she probably did focus more on being queen and protecting George — which I would argue was also protecting her children. However, she is not Augutsa 2.0 (who, even though not the best mother did try).

Charlotte had twelve (thirteen, idk any more consistency is not this shows strength) surviving children, and it seemed that, for the most part, she let them do whatever they wanted. Unlike Augusta, who tried to control every aspect of George's life, she let her sons whore about (her words, not mine), and she clearly didn't meddle too much in her daughter's love lives. It's only until the very last minute that she inserts herself into their affairs.

At first, it was just her telling them to marry suitable people and produce an heir. She still allowed them to marry who they liked, just as long as they were from a specific pool. And if I'm being honest, that pool wasn't that small; they literally had all of Europe. One of them could have found someone if they had tried. But alas, they didn't which forced Charlotte's hand, leading to arranged marriages.

I think none of them really took her command of marriage seriously because none of them, outside of George probably, knows what responsibility is. Yes, we know that her daughters stayed because they couldn't bare to see their mother remain stuck in time. However, Charlotte did what Augusta couldn't. She didn't let the weight and responsibility of the crown break her children. To her, she was a good mother because she gave them freedom — freedom George never had — she let them have affairs and stay unmarried because she refused to put pressure on them the way Augusta and everyone else did on George.

Her children didn't crack under the crown's weight because she did. Charlotte had two choices: be the best queen or be the best mother. I think she chose the option that made the most sense to her. By being the best queen (George's queen), George had someone on his side, the kingdom had stability, AND her children got to live their lives.

Charlotte had so much responsibility from such a young age; is it really shocking that she couldn't juggle it all? Furthermore, people keep acting like she didn't love her kids, but she clearly did. She was very much pained when Elizabeth confessed her miscarriages, she was gentle with William when he admitted he was scared, and she was ecstatic when Edward announced Victoria's pregnancy. She didn't even care that they thought it would be a girl.

Overall, Charlotte is not a perfect mother, but none of the Bridgerton mothers are (not even Violet). All the mothers in this world are just women who tried their best. And as much as their best may not have been enough, it's all they had. Bridgerton does this brilliant thing, highlighting the toxic cycle that occurs when child-baring is a societal expectation, even in relationships made from love and children produced by autonomy. Charlotte's story is just another example.

#queen charlotte: a bridgerton story #queen charlotte #charlotte of mecklenburg-strelitz #yes i know how she reacted to her granddaughters death was no pretty but thats an entirely different post #this is a whole bunch of rambling #but I had to say it because it felt like people were being extremely critical #like yes she’s not the best mum but like also nuance?!?!#charlottes a complicated character and i don’t think it’s appreciated enough #anyway i will always appreciate the complicated mother representation that the bridgerton world keeps feeding us

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crusty-chronicles · 1 year

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Airheaded S/O Headcannons #3 Robin (One Piece)

She absolutely adores you

What's that? You're incredibly stupid?

Come here sweet thing, Robin's here to help

Hmm? You're also incredibly strong? Aww, don't puff out your chest too much little warrior.

You're just too precious to risk getting hurt in battle.

You and Chopper are the most important people to her. (Shhh, don't tell the rest of the crew)

She absolutely babies you.

She can't help it, you have not a thought between those eyes.

You fell overboard and have a Devi Fruit?

She's there catching you with her powers just before you fall in

You're interested in archeology?

She's pulling out books and showing you how to identify types of ponyglyphs.

You hurt yourself wrestling with Luffy?

She's leading you hand in hand to Chopper's office.

God forbid you and Zoro leave to explore an island together.

A man with no sense of direction and an idiot who can't find theirs.

Absolute chaos.

She'll make Luffy or chopper go with you two if she can't.

You'd joined the crew a little bit before the CP9 incident.

Luffy had bought you on board with no other reason besides, "They're funny."

And pointing towards you chasing around the ship's doctor.

"Come here you little monster!!!! Let me squish your tiny face!!!" Promptly tripping afterwards and cracking the deck with your forehead.

You definitely fit in right after that.

She assumed you were strong from the start

The crew did have a track record for strong idiots after all. (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji)

As soon as the Marines attacked, you were one of the first ones to engage in battle.

Devil fruit or not, you sunk a whole ship by yourself.

Then you came back with that dopey look in your eyes and asked if you did good.

She's fond of you then, but becomes smitten during the fight at Enies Lobby.

When you saw Spandam kicking Robin while she struggled, you went ballistic.

Jumping, literally leaping hundreds of feet, just to reach her

You'd just about killed that goon with just one punch, and by the look on your face, you probably hoped you did.

You helped her up with the fondest look she's ever seen.

"Let's get you to Chopper, Luffy will take care of the rest. So don't worry anymore, promise me that."

And Robin's heart had never felt so full.

She had what she'd been missing for so long.

Friends, a makeshift family of outcasts.

Besides Sanji, you're the one checking in on her the most after that.

And she just about melts when you try (and fail) to read a story from one of her books to her.

She calls you her precious fool and occasionally love.

Baby is reserved for very special occasions

But not in the way you think

It's more of a "Let me help you with that, you baby" kind of way.

She waits you out for a confession, having a strong inkling you return her feelings.

You always volunteer to explore islands with her

You always reach for her hand to show her something cool you found.

And you get a little flustered when she compliments you or teases you.

You approached her with a small bouquet of wildflowers you found on the current island.

She half expects you to be subtle, but it's you

And you being you say-

"I picked these because I love you." 🥺🥺🥺

Cute.

So cute she melts, and accepts immediately.

She doesn't get jealous

She fully trusts you and knows you only have eyes for her

How does she know?

You tell her everyday you love her

Heart eyes and everything.

You also fight Sanji for her affections.

"SHE LOVES ME!!! 😡😡😡 YOUR FOOD WON'T TEMPT HER!!!"

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!! AND YOU'RE NOT SMART ENOUGH TO APPRECIATE ROBIN FULLY!!!"

"EYEBROWS EYEBROWS EYEBROWS!!!

"YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU CAN JUST STARVE TONIGHT!!!"

She feeds you secretly

She does worry about you a lot though

Yes you're strong, but you're not invincible

She'd rather fight for you or besides you.

Don't worry her by taking off with Luffy will ya?

NEXT UP: Byakuya Kuchiki

An: Shorter head cannons because I've got Buddy Daddies on the mind and I want to binge.

MASTERLIST

#robin x reader #nico robin #one piece #one piece x reader #nico robin x reader #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

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punkeropercyjackson · 5 days

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I hate........how sexualizing teenage superheroes is the norm in the superheroes fandom at large.Forgive me for traumadumping ig but i have really strong feelings on this as an autistic adult with a special interest in superheroes at large themselves and itself as a genre

My first hero spin was Big Hero 6.By the time it came out,i was 13 so i was allowed internet access no problem and naturally i went looking all over for content of literally everything about it but my favorite character was Hiro so he was what i searched for the most and he was LUDICRIOUSLY objectified and fetishized for his wasian heritage and when the series came out,he got an official love interest named Karmi who's 16 to his 14 and she got tons of hate from Hiro x Gogo and Hiro x Honey shippers despite them not only being college aged to his again,FOURTEEN years but we got explicit ages for them in season 2 when the Nerd Gang minus him gratuated from SFIT so they're canonically TWENTY ONE(i feel it's an important sidenote that Karmi's brownskin with a hooked nose and her VA is indonesian/chinese mixed so her heritage is obvious and as to how it contributed to her reception vs easian Gogo and blonde light-eyed Honey)

My second one was Bnha and there's been tons of discussion about the base's problem with the UA students and Himiko and i thank everyone who's posted about it deeply but my specific one is that my otp of the series was and will always be Shouto and Momo aka Todomomo even if i'm not nearly as into Bnha as i used to be because they were the first ship i actively made content for and it lasted years and that combined with me headcanoning them as bi4bi,t4t and autistic4autistic helped my egg crack and realize my own autism big time so their relathionship eternally has a big place in my heart

This means i've witnessed grown ass people saying Shouto almost touched Momo's boobs in that cap where he stopped her during their Aizawa fight(and his hand didn't even land on her chest)as a running thing and same for him acting as a macho man who rules over her body so she can't wear what she wants or exist near other men,including BAKUGOU who Momo HATES IN-TEXT,or have conflict with him because he'll just 'put her in her place as his woman' and Momo who's thee 'silk hiding steel' character and has adultification trauma that triggers her anxiety as the plot of the Todomomo starter 'Yaoyorozu Rising' with Shouto helping her with words of affirmation,healthy communication and good boundries on both sides that became the foundation of their dynamic throught the whole franchise,manga and extras,is reduced down the 'the class mom to Iida's class dad' as if she's ever even looked in his general direction and when she's rightfully earned her place as Shouto's best friend alongside Izuku himself and that is INSANELY imppressive taking into account her limited screentime.All i wanted was them being goth bf x pastel gf and getting to heal their inner child together and what i got was a nsfw Todomomo week on twitter and a certain artist drawing Momo/Dabi as an 'April Fool's' joke MULTIPLE YEARS in a row because he's also a Todoroki so it's also Todomomo lololol and i also did her with Natsuo and Fuyumi,i'm so funny!The only good thing to come out of that i started spite headcanoning Momo and Dabi as found siblings and platonic soulmates and realized i was actually on point

Then i watched Batman:Under The Red Hood when i was 19 and Jason became a character i selfship with romantically so i did the logical thing and started reading comics,starting with his.Did you know it's canon that while he dosen't exactly hunt them down specifically,he hates pedophiles and incesters so he once targeted a teacher because he was csa'ing one of his student's and expressed disgust at the thought of kissing any of his brothers based off them being brothers?You wouldn't know either of these things off fanon alone,you'd think he was creepy older guy who seeks out younger people on purpose when he dosen't seek anybody out period and that's his canon relathionships coping mechanism and it's also canon he couldn't talk to girls and pushed a guy off a roof for running a sex ring as Robin.As ROBIN,a fucking 11-15 year old Jason had that much of a moral backbone and willingness to take action in it yet everyone thinks he'd date a CHILD,even HIS OWN UNDERAGED SIBLINGS,with taking advantage of them as the appeal

I absolutely loved Into The Spiderverse as an afrolatino like Miles who was a troubled kid like he is too and i thought Gwen was super good too and Peter B's another character i selfship with romantically so naturally i was hyped for Across and the first thing the fandom did when the trailer dropped?Make a hyperpopular meme where that sweet,soft,wholesome scene where Gwen gets cheeky and looks through Miles' sketchbook and sees he's so in love with her he dedicated it's entierty to her just existing as herself into him seeing her as nothing but a sexual object with degrading features she does not have and it was a sick joke on Gwen because the boy she loves just wants her for sex and not even for what she actually looks and that just makes it even worse!!!Then there's the equally pure implied thing they did of her either stealing Hobie's sweaters because he makes her feel safe after her abusive dad kicked her out for being trans or him giving them to her to borrow as affection that ALSO got twisted into Gwen being nothing but a sex object,by people who see Hobie's age interpretation not even as a minor but in his 20s unlike how actual Ghostpunks do!!!!!!!,and don't think i haven't seen the Margo shit calling her 'thicc' and turning the girls into Miles' 'harem'

And the thing that made realize this is that it's always been like this is when i went looking for Teen Titans screenshots,first Starfire and Blackfire for me and my little sister and then ones of the animated Titans in general for my little brother because he did an edit-redraw of our DC self-inserts together using one so i got excited at how good it was and decided to ask for a few more since we have friends who have DC ocs too and we're all doing a canon rewrite fixit with them but the first results were fucking incest softcore porn and TOO DAMN MUCH horny Bbrae fanart.One of the friend's in question is like another brother to me and he's 17 and he thought there was nothing wrong with Jason/The Fenton Siblings because when i said find it triggering just in general,he tried to explain that i was 'making the wrong assumption' because a lot of people age up Danny and Jazz and he'd learned that from older DPDC fans.They literally groomed him and i'm so glad i met him and helped him unlearn that shit before he could get hurt

That's not normal.NONE of that is normal to involve children even if fictional because they're meant to be exactly like REAL kids mentally and physically and you get upset at the real ones for being upset by you doing this to them and even harrass them for it and i've had to directly defend another one of my little sibling's from harrasment from 'fandom elders' because he dared to have an opinion that 'dosen't follow the rules'.I'm sick of this,i can't stand this,this needs to DIE.There's no exaggaration over ten times the adult superheroes than they're are kid ones and you fucking ship them with eachother instead just sticking to the adults for smut.Batman and Robin were seen as a couple in ye olden times by a group of gay people not because Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson harbord secret romantic feelings for eachother since conception or intended to later on but because that specific gay people were irl pedophiles who used being gay as a defense

I don't care if i sound childish or if nobody who this is aimed at cares,i hate all of you for this.I hate you for tarnishing my special interest,i hate you for violating the history of superheroes and the creation of sidekicks and kid heroes as role models and escapism fantasies for real kids,i hate you for beyond disrespecting that superheroes as a WHOLE were created by jewish folks and that Clark Kent,the FIRST superhero,is the protector of all innocents with a deep love for children and gets especially angry when they're hurt and is a fundemental trait he has to have or he's NOT Superman or Clark Kent Kal-El or Superdad,i hate that the sexualization of underaged supers and them being abused as 'romance' by their fucking pseudo-parents is a long running punchline.I hate you with my entire heart and soul and actual comics reading knowledge

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