#idk i had this Very Skewed Perception for a Very Long Time

[pinkseas]

girl who thinks about xiaolumi too much literally while in the middle of writing abt them and then starts crying a little bit

#LISTENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. listennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. #aly.genshin #okay im jsut. gonna like say so many words #idk i had this Very Skewed Perception for a Very Long Time #that there was a certain kind of love and closeness only achievable through pain. #that you'd have to yank someones ribcage open and carve yourself out a place in their heart to really belong there #that was my first real lasting impression of true love. that for such intense trust and care to exist there had to be equal pain #for a while i thought All love was like that. and then the more i grew up the more i learned just how wrong i was #but even when i got to a point where id learned SO much and was doing SO much better #i genuinely didnt think that vulnerability could exist without pain #and i dont think that was something i thought about everyone. i think i believed that for Other People it wouldnt necessarily have to hurt #but for me? if i wanted to really actually be open and honest with someone? if i wanted to trust them wholly? #they'd have to tear me open and sew a piece of themselves right there in my chest and never let the wound close #that was what closeness meant. that was what trust meant. #and id rather never achieve true trust that led to that closeness than let someone do that to me again. #and then i met ash and craig and i started to believe maybe it didnt have to hurt. maybe you COULD be wholly vulnerable without things like #manipulation and pain and abuse and whatnot #but i still hadnt reached that point. still HAVENT reached that point. #and even though i found myself believing it was maybe possible. the belief wasnt wholly there? #i had no examples i couldnt think of anything or anyone who really truly loved each other and had such a deep intimate level of trust- #-without having to hurt each other to cause it #and then !!!!!!!!!!! those two. and all those fucking questlines and all the little details ingame #two people who've been left behind in one way or another and struggle to open themselves up to or really trust anyone else #SO used to working on their own SO used to being alone no one left to rely on no one left to let in. the entire world kept at arms length #but with each other !!!!!!!!! there's so much CARE #she falls and he catches her and thats it! shes saved. shes fine. #but he still holds on. he supports her as she catches her breath and really recovers. #keeps a hold on her hand and her waist and does the little squeeze thing before letting go. silent reassurance. silent faith. #and in the chasm there's just. she cares so MUCH about him she gets so worried !!!!!! #HELP I HIT A TAG LIMIT I TYPED SO MUCH MORE AND ITS JUST. GONE. reblogging this to continue hold on

[dykefever]

interested to hear your perspective on this. what do YOU think makes a fic become popular in the r/s fandom. because there are many many fics and most of them go unnoticed. what do you think makes for a popular fic in general & in the r/s fandom in particular?

hi hello this got a bit long so all under the cut xxx

i’ve been thinking on this question a bit and i feel like this is kind of a tricky question to ask because it IS mainly down to chance !! but i want to make a distinction between viral fics and just generally popular ones because the first is very much down to random chance and a few other factors — these fics tend to be plot heavy + long + high drama and angst. they read more like novels i think? but most fanfiction isn’t like that (i mean i don’t personally write anything like that!!). for me meaningful engagement with my fic didn’t necessarily mean i had accrued heaps of hits but occurred rather when i had a tumblr where i was making friends + posting about my fic and posting snippets etc. and interacting with people in the comments of my fic and on tumblr. i’ve pretty slowly just gained a reader base from that and over time the fics have been read and ppl come back to read my other ones ?? i guess!!

i think it also helps to have someone read over your work just to check for grammar and spelling + plot holes etc. because those things can have people clicking off a fic for sure. also tagging thoroughly and accurately on ao3 is really helpful so people can actually find your fic. in my experience the best thing you can do is write a story you really love + enjoy writing and have fun with because that’s when you write your best and people will see that in the story and writing…. and there’s like hundreds of very similar fics (i’m thinking lie low at lupin’s etc etc) so just… write whatever don’t worry about being original or whatever.

idk i’m curious what other people have to say about this because there’s a trend that i haven’t seen as much in other fandoms for fics to become ‘viral’ through twitter and tik tok (i mean atyd is like the most read fic on ao3 right?? or one of them??) and i think it’s really skewed people’s perception of what is typical engagement with fic (which tends to be small and perhaps builds over time) and what the purpose of posting is all about. writing should be about your own enjoyment and hopefully people get some out of it too. obviously it’s hard Not to want people to read and like and comment on your work but posting with that as the main hope in mind is just gonna be pretty miserable i think!!!!

#sorry this is a bit all over i think in terms of things that are written about people love angst in this fandom and hurt/comfort #popular character headcanons change over time just vibe with what u want i think #also plenty of fics go unnoticed because there are just. a fuckload of fics these days. and there’s no algorithm and people are just #getting their recs from other people on social media rather than having a scroll #through the ship on ao3 or whatever #i think don’t underestimate having like three people ur friends with read and comment something lovely about ur fic #compared to hundreds of thousands of reads like that’s really cool to have lots of ppl read it #but when i have my mutuals comment on a fic that’s like The Best thing #or just like one message where someone goes wow that story really moved me or whatever #obviously i appreciate every way people engage but yeah!!!! #also going back to the viral thing i think readers now want fics to be like books/novels with the same beats to whatevr degree as those #stories and like hardly anyone is writing that kind of story !! so when something like that is written i think it gets very popular #but i think ppl should actually just enjoy all aspects of fic or whatever like those 10k one shots r the back bone of this society fr.. we #simply cannot forget that…… #answered

[lemonadehtwooh]

just curious, if you were to ship Hector with anyone in FGO (as in...not Andromache or your Mastersona obviously), who would it be and why?

Oh! You wound me with eliminating two of my finest options! XD okay so I actually had to go through the list of Servants in FGO because I actually have no idea! So I have made a list of what I think would be suitable options for shipping him with.

They're are mostly men because FGO seems to not have a lot of women characters who I could even possibly headcanon to be around his age, unfortunately (which being at least around his age, or being able to be headcanoned as such, was one of the traits that was a must to be added to the list). Welcome to Bisexual Hektor Time and also the fact I spent over an hour trying to make a list for this XD

Also anyone and everyone in this list, I can see being friendshiped with Hektor more than anything XD

First, we have Boudica. Reasoning being that they have similar vibes in backstory, also I think they both would enjoy some peace. I think they would have that domestic fluff dynamic. A very peaceful dynamic. Honestly she has the most potential for shipping with him imo, if I had to choose someone

Next is Benki. They both give that moment of wanting to get out of training. I feel like they would have a bromance XD I don't think they would even talk about it, just one day they both sorta realize they're in a relationship and both are fine with it. That's the vibes I think they would give

Lord El-Melloi II (the older one with long hair and smokes). Honestly they give more of "smoking buddies" vibe but ig I could work off of that. With Hektor's carefree attitude, they could probably give that "opposites attract" dynamic XD

I was going to add Saint Martha to this list but I genuinely can't remember why. Maybe someone else can do the thinking for me XD Same with Leonidas? Idk why he's on the list. Someone else can do the thinking for me on that

Next, Georgios. Honestly I just think they would chill. Honestly I'm personally a slight Georgios simp, so that may perhaps be skewing my perception on this XD. Dynamic wise, I think they would have a peaceful life type dynamic, sorta similar to Boudica. Georgios could use Hektor as a model for pictures XD

We have Hassan of the Cursed Arm, but honestly I think they would just be bros more than a bromance. They have that "uncle" vibe ig, which makes me think they would get along. But honestly they're giving a friendship vibe

Out of a joke, I added Miss Crane to the list PURELY out of the idea that she could make him hats. Because he's "Hektor of the Gleaming Helm". XD I rate this crackship: hats/10

Another purely friendship I have with him is Francis Drake. I think they would be buddies. My brain just doesn't have the capacity to romance them, imo. They're friends uwu

Now, here are some ships I personally don't ship and also don't understand the ship for:

Hektor X Achilles. I can see the liking for enemies to lovers, but they lack too much of the respect that is essential for enemies to lovers. I also like their pettiness towards each other too much XD they're so funny to me. Definitely not a ship I personally would enjoy, though. Also it ignores that Achilles already has a boyfriend: Patroclus (lol). Fate give Achilles his boyfriend When

Hektor X Mandricardo. Look, I know in my head that Mandricardo is an adult. But. He gives me too much of an edgy kid vibe XD he reminds me of myself in middle school a little too much XD. He just seems emotionally/mentally too much like a teenager for me to see the appeal, it just feels wrong to ship him with Hektor due to that. But I also can somewhat see why people would ship it. He's one of Hektor's top simps. I can respect him for that frfr XD

#fate grand order #fgo #fate go #fgo fate grand order #hektor of troy #hektor #fgo hektor #fgo headcanons

[boxwinebaddie]

DUDE!!!! can i just say i love love LOVE your characterizations of the boys!!! they are so 3-dimensional and not flat? idk if that makes sense? i feel like most ppl just write them so boring lmao no personality but your stan and kyles are always so interesting!!! kudos <3

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! this was such a lovely little message to see in my inbox! thank so, so, so much nonnie dearest! for a long time i was worried i was making them too zesty or not like 'written by a mediocre white man' enough which was too ooc, but they are so rich and complex to me???

like i really feel them in my heart and soul, like stan and kyle are characters, but they're supposed to feel like real people and they do, exist in my brain, as little people sometimes. so i try to write them as authentically and viscerally as i can in my fanfics.

like okay, using pep!style as an example specifically i feel like stan and kyle usually get really blandly type cast and unelaborated on as 'sad and drinks alot' or 'smart and mean' which!!! AAAA!! they are literally so much more than that like oh my god...

okay! so, bear with me...i am about to wax poetic so hard under the cut, but like if i was going to diagnose and therapize the hell out of the boys in like a really long run on sentence paragraph blurb for each like...this is probably what i would say.

( yes i am foaming at the mouth. )

like stan “is sad and drinks a lot”, yes, but moreover…is a pyrite golden boy tragic hero who is product of a mother’s love and a father’s hate, which in turn created a sad, stunning forest creature with a ridiculously fractured and skewed self-cannibalizing, body dysmorphic wickedly warped perception of himself which mirrors his broken home, and as a result, loves everybody but hates himself, was given every opportunity to become cruel, but chose to be kind every time, knows heart break like the back of the vicious hand meant to hold and nurture his, that, instead, strikes him hard across the face for his softness, the very same face worn by his evil, incompetent waste of a father, blessed with great physical beauty, but cursed to carry an entire ignorant, vouyeristic town on his back and an ugliness inside that is so insidious and all consuming that, with no examples of healthy coping mechanisms in his life, and an addictive personality that was man-made and burned into his DNA like a cigarette, leaves him rudderless and hopeless, with no other solution but to self medicate and self destruct with alcohol because no one actually gives a shit about him and would rather just watch him get torn to shreds in the gladiator ring than fucking help him…if i had to guess…

and kyle is “smart and mean”, of course, but that’s all he knows!!! he was not allowed to be gentle, he was not taught to be vulnerable — he was taught to be a fucking weapon, he’s the product of an overly cautious mother’s aggressive and obsessive helicopter parenting, which created a horrible nurture vs nature neurosis that over complicates every aspect of his life with monstrous anxiety, and a cold, distant father whose sole interest in him hinges on that he was bred as a race horse disguised as a child prodigy and unfeeling vessel to puppet his sad, pathetic legacy regardless of what he may want in life, which is defined by how successful in school he can be, feeding an insatiable inferiority complex that is only gratified by praise, teeth sharpened like number two pencils, feared and revered for how brutally he can take out his competition, which really, is just himself at the end of the day, his obsession with militantly completing tedious tasks and robotic rituals all boiled down to the simple fact that it’s his only form of control because he was cursed with a strong mind and a weak body that is doomed to fail no matter how hard he tries, so he spends every second of his life fighting and treading water because it’s you or him and you can’t make people love you — but you can make them fear you…you know if i also had to guess.

and i feel like a lot of people might say a lot of different things like i think my stan and kyle are a little more emotional and soft than other people's styles may be, but that just feels right to me...like they are my sons, my little guys, they're in high school and confused and in love and dealing with so many things. they can be soft as a treat.

anyways...i will stop being crazy now and get off my soapbox.

-uncle nina, single mother of two boy who need therapy and 2 kiss

#honestly i was being crazy but those blurbs are so real to me omg #like i just love them so much i am very protective over their characterizations #like they can act however u want them to act in ur fanfics but in my fanfic they are wonderful and sad and cute #and if ur rocking with that and rocking w me im rocking w you #thank you for rocking with me ily

[willel]

this might be an unpopular opinion but idk why any of the kid characters were written to be in relationships so early. like both mileven and Lumax were in a relationship by the end of one season. I feel like what would’ve been more appropriate is a slow love story where they’re all just a group of platonic friends and they get together by the last season (kind of like Ron and Hermione)

Yeah I guess, but I mean, people eat that stuff up. Majority of the fandom right now is in a full on war over these ships after all, and the PR and showrunners do nothing to stop it. It keeps fans engaged for the long wait period and can even sell merchandise.

I personally have never taken the kid ships seriously. Not that I think they don't love each other and all that, but all this started when they were 12/13. I remember being 12/13 and how unserious all the relationships around me were (I, much like Will, had 0% interest in dating or being in a relationship and wanted to play video games all day. But as it turns out, I was a smol aroace kid who just didn't know it yet)

It wasn't until this season where they added a serious level of complexity and complication in Lucas and Max's relationship that I became more interested in their dynamic. It's not a perfect relationship but now it feels like they have moved beyond being little kids in their first little relationship. It feels like a romantic bond that can last a very long time because they really get each other and Lucas (through trial and error) is able to "unmask" Max in a way no one else can. I love the maturity in their relationship now.

That said, they probably could've waited to thrust these kids into committed relationships when they were only 13ish. But that IS life. 13 year olds date each other. They break up 10 times and get back together. They fight over petty stuff and then act like nothing happened the next day. So it's not like it's not realistic and I guess it's not only for the entertainment purposes. But yeah. It's genuinely so unserious most of the time for me so I don't really care. (though like I mentioned above, I do care more about lumax at this point)

As for Harry Potter stuff, I never finished any of the books and I only watched the movies once. My perception of those ships is very skewed and I didn't see any of the ships coming until they happened. Lol. Similarly to Stranger Things, I think the romantic drama and fluff just flew over my head as I focused on trying to understand the magic and the main plot. I never ended up being a Potterhead though and actively avoid it these days.

Anyway. It is a shame the Duffers continue to lean into the romantic drama and conflict and don't invest more time into the platonic stuff unless it's Dustin and -insert random adult male Dustin has latched onto for the season- Yep. When I really think about it, pretty much all the platonic love has been sucked into the Dustin-Steve-Robin-Eddie dynamic and that's about it.

It's truly a miracle we got that Jonathan and Will scene or that El and Will hug. The Lucas and Erica crumbs were very much appreciated as well. But as you can see, it's all crumbs.

#stranger things #ask

[moonmothmama]

i wish a lot of times that a work of fiction- book, film, tv show, what have you- would have been the potential i could see for it. like both in terms of story and in terms of avoiding ignorance and biases like racism sexism homophobia transphobia etc. like if only, you know? i mean, not to have unrealistic expectations of perfection; i know i for example am white and able-bodied and cisgender and within the stories i write i will most likely fuck something up, but man i'm trying. and i have the benefit of the wider conversation that comes with modern shit like internet access uniting people across the whole fucking globe and able to magnify the voices of the oppressed. like another example, imagine moby dick if herman melville had done better. it's obvious he had shitty white guy attitudes but, like from my perception of the novel and the pov character, there's a case to be made that he at least had some good intentions with regards to seeing past racial/cultural stereotypes, and it absolutely is done clumsily at best and the ignorance of the author is still painfully glaringly obvious but idk i can read that book and believe that he was trying, or at least coming from a place of some kind of genuinely positive intention, that he'd have done better if he'd shed his ignorance. ignorance is painful and does so much damage but it's only malice when it's intentional, when you intentionally cling to it*. and if your intentions are not malicious then the door is wide open to change for the better, as long as you can muster the humility to do it. and i'm not trying to make excuses you know? i realize i'm making an assumption that the author meant well and i have no proof of that, nor do i have proof that he didn't pass up opportunities to shed his ignorance. i could be baselessly projecting my own desire to Do Better onto the guy. and also it's been a hot second since i've read the book in full, and i'm viewing it through my own memories and emotions. but god, i'd really like to be able to believe the best about people once in a while, you know what i mean? or at the very least i'd like to imagine a version of a good story that isn't so tainted by the heavy bias and ignorance of it's author. idk man i'm definitely doing some kind of rambling right now but. imagine moby dick as it could have been without the story coming to us through the skewed lens of racist bullshit. i know that's impossible because the stories come from people and people are flawed. but like maybe at least we can just keep trying to get better, to make better stories and to tell old stories in better ways.

*-like joke rowling is doing for example. she could do better but she isn't so fuck her

#like. the portrayal of Queequeg is a hot mess and i know this #and i love the character despite the bullshit because i can see the potential there #i can see what could have been should have been could still be #idk man idk #there's so much racist garbage and offensive nonsense and problematic tropes are the least of it #but the story is good enough that it makes me yearn for what could have been #what could still be if it were reinvented #anyway. #blogging on my blog #writing

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This type of mission has never been his. 

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

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

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

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

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

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

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

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

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

And then he’s off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three days. 

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is not sure if he believes you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

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

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

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

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

And then he’s thinking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now. 

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

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

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

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to be like you. 

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

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

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

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

He wants to remain beside you. 

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

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

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

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

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

So he spills it all out to you. 

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

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

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

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

Instead he sits in silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day drags on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

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

Your face burns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sheer and utter adoration. 

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

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

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

And Jungkook does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ends too soon.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook x reader #alternative ending by rumu omits the last paragraph and we all pretend to live happily #but im evil so we suffer together #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[probably-haven]

after binge reading i have come to a new revelation: I’m not a fan of most Xiaoven fanfics

Don’t get me wrong, I love the ship and its one of my favorite to think about.... but most of the fanfiction for the ship just- doesn’t sit right with me for a number of reasons. 

Disclaimer: these are personal opinions from my own taste and are in no way an attack against any authors out there, because frankly fanfic authors are great and not like i could do better lol. As these are personal opinions, I acknowledge here and now that a number of people disagree and that they are under no obligation to change their opinions in any way as it is not and never will be my intention to tell others what they should be thinking That said- read at your own risk if you want- meh, anyway-

time to share some opinions that have been on my mind lately

The biggest reason.... is how they handle Xiao. And I don’t even mean mischaracterization because Xiao is such a complex and yet simultaneously simple character that as long as you’re somewhere in the range of “Xiao vibes” it’s really hard to write him out of character because of his complexities. What I mean is something that i actually completely agree with as being accurate to his character. In nearly every single fanfic I’ve seen, there is some element of idolization that Xiao has for Venti, or for the sake of reference, Barbatos. He tends to think himself beneath Barbatos and/or indebted to him, whether that be because he’s an archon, because he saved him, or simply because of Xiao’s tendency to dehumanize(yes i see the irony in that word usage) himself.  This by itself isn’t an issue but its often how this trait of his is treated.

Imma just list a few ways I’ve seen this be handled within Xiaoven fics. - It isn’t handled, it’s just there and accepted as a part of who he is in the story - It isn’t handled but his trait is treated as source of humor within the story - Venti(and others) roll with it (finding humor in it, just cant change it, encouraging it, making jokes about it, etc.) - Venti takes advantage of it(whether accidentally or purposely) - it’s actually addressed(by Venti or someone else or the narration- can go a number of ways, but just- even a brief reference to the fact that its not a good mindset fits in here) - savior!Venti(Where venti disagrees with it but the way it’s written gives off “god among mortals” vibes- like he’s just being humble and truly is above him in reality) - its the focus of the story  - not directly addressed but shown to be destructive.  - they chose not to not include this in the story’s characterization of Xiao(just saying that this is valid ahead of time) Theres others but i have a lot already.  Note that I tend to read more ‘serious-toned’(idk if that makes sense) fics so that may skew my perception

Now there’s a few that i have issues with on their own- both instances of it not being handled, Venti(and others) rolling with it, Venti takes advantage of it(purposely(and without good intent)), and savior!Venti. Xiao not only has this trait, but he is unfamiliar with what is normal in relationships or emotions as a result of isolation and inexperience. He is also either not aware of or not concerned with what is considered strictly “healthy.” Combining these makes for a rather dangerous combination and just accepting it as “oh he’s just like that, it’s who he is” or making it out to be something funny- It’s not wrong or bad by any means necessarily, and I could still possibly enjoy it to an extent depending on a series of different factors, but its- not as often.  Even in the case where I do enjoy reading it however, I would still feel uncomfortable sharing it with or recommending it to others because in the first instance it feels like normalizing a destructive and dangerous mindset, and in the second case it does the same while simultaneously making a joke of it. It’s the same deal with Venti or other characters rolling with it, but that’s probably gonna be mentioned later too. Not to say that this is a “wrong” way to handle it, that it makes the fic bad, or that authors even are normalizing anything by doing so, just that in my specific instance- not a fan. 

I’ll get to the others when i talk more about Venti, but for now: It’s the focus of the story. I think I saw like... 2? where the story was like- focused on this and why its a problem which- power to them, address those real world problems like a boss- but also i wouldn’t actively seek it out or anything- like, good job, but doing so just leaves it open neutrally for other factors to decide how good a story i think it is. 

not directly addressed but shown to be destructive. You’d think i wouldn’t like this- but frankly in fanfiction not everyone wants to address every character flaw verbally because it can through off story, narration, dialogue, and general flow to do so. This can be with an event, an action, a dialogue, a mere comment, making it actually fit into the it’s actually addressed category except that its- subtle enough to make its own category. plus i live for show not tell- in everything- its a thing. im- very much a fan of when the fics do this but the subtlety is easy to miss and its not common so- 

It’s actually adressed- doesnt have to be a lot- just mention anywhere or imply anywhere that maybe idolizing someone as a god and savior and being in a relationship with them while having little knowledge of standards, emotions, relationships, or healthy behaviors in general- maybe isnt the smartest idea in the word. (”Call me Venti, not Barbatos” by itself is not enough to fit in this category tho as a note)

-

Now lets talk about Venti...

uh.... those who have followed me for awhile will probably already know this but... I have a lot of opinions on Venti and a pretty- “niche(?)” perception of his characterization that isn’t shared by a lot of others- so I don’t actually read as much Venti fanfic in general as you might expect because I often end up disagreeing with how writers portray him, which again, in no way is their characterization wrong, but- “their perceived truth” conflicts with “my perceived truth” and by extent so does the characterization, though neither is any more correct than the other from an objective point of view, if that makes sense... but anyways now that that’s said, moving on before this becomes a philosophy lecture, as fun as that would be for me.  I’ll try to keep my “perceived truth” out of this for the first bit. 

Venti’s response to this: 

He rolls with it: this depends on the mood of the fanfiction. If they dont put a lot of stress on that trait of Xiao’s it totally fine but if the trait seems to be a major part of Xiao’s character, it seems like normalization once more. (more on this later)

he takes advantage of it purposely: if its an AU or something and Venti’s like a villain(i saw a few) then- villain venti isnt my cup of tea but i have no qualms. If they don’t portray Venti in a negative light while having him take advantage however that’s a bit uncomfortable to read for me because it feels like normalizing taking advantage of that mindset as well as the mindset itself. However, i did see a number of instances of Venti using it as leverage for like- self care- which i definitely have no qualms. Xiao: [insert probably destructive idolizing statement about being indebt] Venti: How bout you pay me back by actually sleeping for once smh or other variations are okay and depending on the vibe are actually a really fun dynamic as long as it doesnt turn into romanticizing or normalizing it, y’know?

Venti accidentally taking advantage of it.... I love angst- and in most of these theres a sense of guilt when he realizes- and i just think thats a lovely way of addressing the dangers of such a mindset for both sides. As long as it doesn’t keep repeating to the point of romanticization its totally cool to read in my eyes(not irl ofc). If Venti never realizes he accidentally took or is taking advantage it feels a bit like normalization, and if he does but just- doesn’t care thats- a rip.

savior!Venti...... i- i hate. the story giving off vibes that Xiao’s mindset is technically correct while Venti oh so humbly tells him to treat him as an equal like the wonderful and charitable person he is.... i just- no. of course thats over dramatizing it- I think the main thing that gives it this vibe is when Venti doesn’t seem either concerned, surprised, uncomfortable, or otherwise have a negative feeling towards Xiao’s mindset. Just- it makes the whole thing weird in my eyes when Venti doesnt really seem to have his own reason to oppose the mindset idk- 

-

fact time!

Venti is the god of freedom. His backstory is freeing Mondstadt from a god’s tyrannical reign. His origin is a windsprite, just another breeze bringing changes for the better. His form is a nameless boy who played an instrument and then died, thus failing at his only dream and only ever accomplishing anything because of the help of others. He slept for a thousand years after the archon war to avoid putting Mond under the rule of yet another tyrannical god. He only even became a god because Andrius chose to let him. He wouldn’t have even had that chance if the nameless bard had survived, he’d remain just another wind while his friend ascended to godhood. Venti sacrifices his own power for his people’s freedom. 

now that I’ve laid out a number of canon facts, time for opinions:

Venti has little to no desire to be seen as a god. He thrives in, comes from, and emphasizes a lack of superiority in quite nearly everything. The first Ragnvindir, who canonically turned his back on Venti after Decarabian’s fall, likely did so because one- he anticipated power would corrupt and Venti would soon become just another tyrannical god, two- he suspected Venti used the nameless bard in an attempt to rise to godhood, or three- idk insert other possibilities to acknowledge again that i could totally be wrong.

Look me in the eyes and tell me Venti wouldnt trade godhood for his friend in an instant. His godhood was only granted to him because his friend died and could easily serve to constantly remind him of what could have been and what he lost. Venti takes no enjoyment from being seen as superior and in my opinion, I feel that it could actually make him largely uncomfortable when his divinity and abilities as an archon get involved-

also self promotion for my favorite posts- check out #archon war era venti if thats interesting to you

so anyway Venti rolling with it or making jokes about it just doesn’t sit right with me.- 

-

Okay! enough talking about that mindset!

idk- i have... a few/lot of other gripes and stuff or just things that kinda throw off the vibe for me but that’s the main one plus my general personal pickiness when it come to Venti fanfics- but this has gotten long enough already- 

idk i just felt like rambling about it and i haven’t done a long post in a while so-

again, I love the ship and its actually one of my favorites- just the fanfic isnt my thing..... that doesn’t mean i don’t still love it and come up with a whole ton of brainrot and ideas on it tho lmao

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiaoven #genshin barbatos #opinions #discourse #? idk ill tag it just in case #dont mind my constant backtracking and justifying and repeated disclaimers- #i just have a crippling fear of being cancelled lol

[bread-tab]

idk where to go with this yet but i'm having some thoughts on the overlap between prosopagnosia and racism.

this is a conversation i've had going on in the back of my head for a long time, because i'm naturally somewhat "colorblind," in the racial sense. not intentionally.

it's a combination of factors:

i was homeschooled as a kid, so i wasn't around a lot of people while i was growing up, and therefore wasn't exposed to much diversity in any form.

i also grew up in mostly rural or semi-rural areas of america, where a very large majority of the population was very white.

my family is mixed white and east asian, and myself and most of my siblings have racially ambiguous features. i don't know how much so by other people's standards, but enough that i have one sibling with blond hair and blue eyes, stereotypical american pie, and another who gets asked "where are you from" sometimes. my sense of "people who look like me" is skewed by that.

i'm autistic, so i instinctively don't look at people. something i've had to try to train out of myself for the past decade for the sake of developing as an artist, plus, you know, basic social skills and situational awareness.

finally, i have mild-to-moderate prosopagnosia. (not sure where to put myself on the scale as far as other prosopagnosiacs go, it's never been a huge priority next to my other asd and adhd issues.) meaning, i have a really hard time recognizing people by their faces.

faces just aren't that distinctive to me. it takes several months of meaningful interactions with something before i can reliably recognize them, and even then, i get confused very easily in unfamiliar contexts. "find a group of your friends in a large crowd" is a nightmare scenario. i can barely find myself in a group picture. i rely much more on cues like how people dress and style their hair, physical build, movement, mannerisms, and so on. someone's face is a really small part of them, if you think about it.

where this comes back to "colorblindness" is, i personally can't reliably tell what race someone is supposed to belong to. i just don't see people that way. i don't instinctively group people by the same sets of facial features that neurotypical people seem to. sure, if you put me in a room full of people who look either really white or really black or really asian and asked me to categorize them like that, i could. but if you took, like, a regular group of racially diverse people off a new york subway car and asked me to do the same thing? i'd have a nervous breakdown. even when you just go by amount of melanin alone, there are tanned white people who look darker than some black people. the difference between most shades of human brown is so frickin' subtle.

there's a post floating around somewhere on here that talks about a bunch of white british people having african facial features, i forgot the anthropology behind it, but my reaction to that was just ✨ vindication~ ✨ because i can't tell the difference between a "black nose" and a "white nose" and sometimes it turns out that's because there's no goddamn physical difference.

anyway. this is not a matter of ideology for me. it's just part of my basic physical perception of the world. i can tell humans apart exactly as well as i can tell cats apart. it has more downsides than upsides. i can't tell you how many times i've hurt someone's feelings by not recognizing them and had to immediately try and reassure them like, i'm so sorry i'm just bad with faces, i remember you!

as far as i'm aware, people in favor of "colorblindness" as an ideal seem to think it signifies a lack of racial or ethnic prejudice. yeah, that's bs. your ability to perceive someone's ethnicity from physical traits has very little bearing on your level of cultural competence. personally, i think it's made mine worse, if anything.

what i've been thinking on this morning is an observation of how people react to my faceblindness across racial lines. i treat everyone with an equal amount of "i can't tell you apart from people who look vaguely similar to you."

white people tend to take this as a personal slight. ie, "you're not important enough to bother recognizing."

poc tend to take it as a microaggression. ie, "you people all look the same to me."

in my life this has come up the most often when discussing celebrities. i have trouble keeping track of celebrities. when i was younger, i wasn't interested because i thought celebrity gossip was shallow. but more to the point, even though i care now, the fact that they're famous doesn't make them recognizable to me.

i can't tell if someone is pretty by whatever the current beauty standards are. pretty people are less recognizable, not more. most celebrities tend to be harder to tell apart because they conform to beauty standards that make them look similar. the exception for me is...there's a category of outliers where "pretty" seems to overlap with "you have a funky face," eg benedict cumberbatch. if your face doesn't look at least a little funky, i don't know you from adam.

a few years ago some of my younger siblings got really into bts and the whole music video storyline thing they were doing. i could not tell those boys apart. i think i jokingly said they all looked the same. this was met with some offense. to which i was like oh, crap, am i being racist?

so i learned to tell the members of bts apart. they made it hard for me by swapping hair colors constantly. but then again, that probably helped me remember to pay more attention to their actual faces. in terms of kpop bands, they're actually not the most similar-looking. the problem is, they're a boy band.

after i put some thought into it, i realized this group of people:

...are, in fact, easier for me to tell apart than this group of people:

(that's one direction, for my fellow faceblinds and people who didn't like boy bands while they were growing up. according to google images at least. don't sue me if this is the wrong boy band.)

...and the only difference was that i spent a few weeks learning who the members of bts actually were beyond what they look like, as well as staring at their faces and being made fun of by teenagers when i misidentified them.

(i have no idea who the members of one direction are. now that i've looked away from that photo for a minute, i can tell you that the one on the far left is the mcyt karl jacobs, and the second one from the right is justin bieber. yes, i am indeed only remembering their hair. but the fact that i remember that much tells you i did take a good long look at them.)

so, it wasn't a race thing. it was a faceblindness thing. but like, there's a reason i was worried that i was being racist. (i can tell whether someone is korean ten times more easily after my bts studies, and that should tell you something.) there's a reason that my faceblind mistakes are interpreted as microaggressions.

another instance of this, a couple years ago, happened when i sat next to a guy on a plane, who just happened to be black. we got to talking and had a really great conversation. but at one point, an actor came up, and i said "isn't he the one that played [blorbo from show]? or was that someone else?"

and my airplane buddy pointed out that sounded a bit racist. because yeah, it did!

the actor was a black guy. and i meant what i said in the sense of, "i don't know actors, i think i saw that guy in a show that i watched but i'm faceblind, i could be mixing him up with someone who doesn't even look like him." i was trying to remember what the guy looked like by his ears. (it's hard when people are bald, okay?)

but if you don't know all that, and you look at me as a white-passing person, it's absolutely reasonable to read what i said as "you people all look the same to me."

and i just gotta wonder, what the heck is going on with neurotypical white people, to make that such a reasonable assumption? what are they doing? or what aren't they doing that they should be?

this isn't limited to white people or neurotypical people, obviously. it's not even specific to race. women are treated the same way through a certain kind of misogyny. how many instances of the "interchangable blonde bimbo" media trope have we all seen? that's just the tip of that iceberg, and i'm not gonna unpack all that right now.

(side note, i gotta reiterate, i'm not saying i think i'm immune to being prejudiced in any way shape or form. i've been raised into it the same way anyone else has in my culture (the vaguely conservative white american protestant cisheteropatriarchy). i'm not completely out of touch with social norms, i pretend to be normal a lot, and some of those norms just suck. sometimes i fail to pick up on the norms that are anti-suckage, too.)

so anyways. it seems like there's this thing, in the psychology of prejudice, where people become faceblind toward the people they're bigoted against. and that's gotta be part of the physical mechanism of how dehumanization works.

i just find that really disturbing. (and interesting.) and it's bizarre for me to think about considering, you know, i see everyone like that. maybe my social anxiety would make more sense to people if i explained it like that. humans are alien to me. i'm a human-phobe. i've got, like, internalized speciesism.

but at the same time, i love humans! i realize my alienation is a me thing. i look past it. i'm really careful about how i treat people, because i know what's natural to me isn't always what's good for them.

maybe it's a normal human thing, for people to seem more like people as you get to know them, and i'm just experiencing a weird extreme version of that? i just don't understand why so many people are so prejudiced if they have this ability to recognize others as real/human/people in a way that to me seems, like... psychic. maybe it's just that i have an impaired sense of tribalism, too.

so like i said, i don't know where this train of thought is going. i just want to understand better. this has got to be something people have studied extensively and i want to read that research.

#racism #the psychology of bigotry #prosopagnosia #actuallyautistic #kierarchy #misogyny #sociology #long post

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Second Chance -Intro

as of now, this is what I’m planning on working on for 2021 NaNoWriMo

Tag: #second chance

Genre: Urban fantasy new adult

More: Gods, alternate mythology, alternate modern day (?), college, gods, steampunk aesthetics (not sure if it qualifies as punk), time travel, prophecy, time loops, wlw

Told in first person past tense.

Plot Summary/Synopsis

Chrys has lived every day twice for as long as she can remember. With every day repeating, the first one disappearing with no consequences, she developed a double life-- one of apathy and risk, and another of perfect grades, good relationships, and impeccable foreknowledge. When she meets Russell, someone who seems to live the same repeating life she does, suddenly her two lives become a lot less separate. Things become worse when time stops one day and Chrys discovers why days repeat-- a world of gods and servants who work for them. Her search for answers is hindered by the focus of the recently stolen Spirit of Time, something that may have far more to do with her and Russell than expected.

More under the cut!

World

(Main thing that I'm updating in rewrite so will add more as I work on it!)

Relevant Gods:

Saecys: God of Time. Saecys is elusive, not often communicating with servants and definitely not with people. He is sustained so easily that his power and significance never goes into question-- as long as people are keeping track of the time, Saecys will exist. However, Saecys is unique in that their power is severed from their consciousness-- instead, this is kept and maintained by the "Spirit" of time, and the Time Servants serve as the main influences and main enforcers. This allows Saecys to extend their influence more than they could on their own.

Auratiae: (will be further developed) God of Divination and Prophecy. Never was anywhere near as major a god, and has had some resentment for it, more their followers than them themselves. Is sustained in modern day by zodiac and horoscopes, and as always by tarot and other forms of divination (one of the things I want to dove more into is if I can keep this but not be resentful of modern witchcraft, or if I should rework a new god into their role. Will edit this post as I figure that out)

Ardisci: God of Knowledge. For now not important to the plot although they become more important later. Missing, but the vessel through which Knowledge and pursuit of knowledge goes. (Her being missing may have something to do with the prevalence of misinformation).

Moriscer: God of Memory. Hints of Moriscer come into play when exploring memory projections.

Characters

Chrys: (previously Carson) MC. Chrys is, on null days, apathetic. She seeks thrills, engages in reckless behavior, and allows herself to be selfish. She has made herself a few rules for null days that keep her from crossing certain boundaries. On real days though, you'd never recognize this-- good attendance, grades, an intuitive sense about the problems she and her friends may face. It's harder than she thinks to fully have two separate lives, and the apathy of one may seek into the other just like the compassion of one may show up in ways she didn't expect. This very constant and normal part of her life is something she may not think she likes, but it has both ruined and enriched her life in ways she doesn't realize until it becomes important.

Ava: Ava is Chrys's connection to her "real" life, that is, the life that lasts. Ava's the reason Chrys stayed in their hometown after graduating high school. Ava is very sweet, shy, and a bit repressed... and far more perceptive than Chrys realizes. She keeps a lot close to her chest due to life with an emotionally abusive parent, and vocalizes very little of her inner feelings. She feels close to Chrys too... definitely no feelings there that are anything more than platonic, nope no way what're you talking about (some internalized homophobia at work there). Although she doesn't feel free to pursue it, Ava is greatly interested in mythology, history, and philosophy, and ideally would want to be a historical nonfiction writer.

Joce: Chrys’s friendship with Joce was mainly to have a friend to go on null day adventures with, but in sustaining their friendship, they’ve become closer than Chrys intended by just having someone already as risk-seeking as she was. Joce is brave, bold, and impulsive. She’s not used to having freinds that stick around, and has no idea why the studious and well-adjusted (ha) Chrys has befriended her.

Russell: A lot about Russell is Spoilers! In a way to describe him in as least a spoiler-y way possible, Russell is friendly and eager to be liked, a bit sheltered/with a skewed perspective of the world. As far as Chrys knows, he’s like her-- living days twice without knowing why, but somehow ever developed the same double life and sense of apathy.

Nellie: A Time Servant who works as a field agent. Lost her arm a few years back and uses a prosthetic. Very driven and determined. Trying to catch the thief who stole the spirit of time because  she blames herself, despite having very little to do with it.

Varity: high-ranking Time Servant, one of few that gets direct contact with Saecys.

Alina: Assistant to Varity, liason between agents and teams. Tries to help everybody as best she can. Used to be a medic.

Silas: Very into mechanics and tinkering. Guard of the Spirit of Time and knows the spirit better than anyone (except Saecys). Likes to figure out how things work and experiment. Considers the Spirit his best friend, but doesn't admit that because it wounds crazy.

Nora: A lot about her is also spoiler-y, but I will say that she’s very possessive and controlling

Other

Character Portraits:

Picrew

Current taglist:

(Ask to be added!)

@puzzleddragon02​

Note: I’ve decided that at least for preptober purposes, I’m not going to keep answers to prompts spoiler-free-- so there will likely be major spoilers under cuts. I don’t care too much about sharing them, especially since I feel like I’ve shared the big plot twist already (Because it sets up the plot of book 2), and idk if anyone is going to follow this enough that they would care about avoiding spoilers, but if you do want to avoid them, don’t go under the cuts!)

#second chance #introduction #navigation #wip intro #nanowrimo 2021

[sugar-petals]

Idk why but I have the feeling that Namjoon and Jin hit puberty early and Jimin, Tae, and maybe Yoongi were late bloomers.

visually or character-wise? as far as looks go, myg has remained almost exactly the same except some weight loss and looking less sad (fathom the relief). to my eyes, he’s uncanny to his school pics 😄 even in the phase where the members changed the most, yoongi did what he does best: staying consistent.

this is predebut stuff but he could’ve dropped it just yesterday. maybe i’ve been into him for too long or baby this mf too much but his facial structure has not shifted a millimeter. cat man then — cat man now. 🐱 he’ll probably still pout like this when he’s 32 or something and we’ll buy it. gladly i must say, i can’t lie. ✊😊

his change was much earlier, back in kindergarden. going from this sassy bean:

to this shy young man right here. 

so while puberty was raging on with all the other members, nothing much happened on his part. even jin was still going from pupper eyes to being the glamazon he is today, but yoongi’s vampire husband game was already firmly established. plus, he was already very experienced at that point (because of rapping underground, demanding parenting, his mental health journey, bighit’s chaotic formation years, poverty, heavy injuries, namjoon’s influence...) 

jin was early indeed, though we have to remember he’s the eldest hyung. but still, the 180 is real. this has been said before: don’t pick on anybody... it might be the most beautiful man alive.

namjoon, for sure. it can be hard to tell since he was always styled like the leader and acted like it so our perception is skewed towards that. but if you go back, his frame has always been imposing since early days.

tae and jimin had a major transformation around BST which contributed to the group blowing up, but they were 20 so way past puberty already. so yep, it’s been delayed for them.

personality-wise, yoongi is late blooming erratically, but it’s not a clear distinction. he was always a serene and responsible character while at the same time having a carefree and social side, even during the harder days. for him, it’s more about lightening up and doing what he postponed, he’s a benjamin button.

namjoon’s mental puberty hit at his birth probably, while jin is still a rebel teen and jimin’s hormones are partying like the world ends 😂 taehyung, he’s unpredictable. sometimes a 400 year old artist with a stark face, sometimes a prancing 10 year old with huge bread cheekies who hugs pillows. he’s the most fascinating case by far.

#lmao the last face #bts #yoongi #namjoon #taehyung #jin #jimin #bts predebut #bangtan #long post #thread #anon #ask #cub mail 🐆

[calpops]

Waitttt okay so for that dates with Calum thing, can you imagine our soft boi having a dream about his future with his girl? Like I’m talking the whole nine yards - proposal, marriage, kids, growing old together. And maybe he wakes up in a sweat(?) because he wasn’t expecting that type of dream and he sees her sleeping next to him and his heart just explodes and he literally wakes her up to talk about it and idk if you are still doing this thread but this idea hit me and yeah

Calum falls asleep with you next to him in the new house. The home is new but the routine is old. Every night starts in the same ways, climbing in bed together, whispering while limbs are entangled and heads rest against chests and heartbeats are counted and kept in time with each other. Calum is surprised at the ease of routine, the heavy eyelids that accompany comfortable positions and soft words that either mean the world or amount to nothing more than hearing each other’s voices.

Calum had dreamt of you before; usually flickering images of the day previous floating through his unconscious mind. He could dream your smile and the blush that stained your cheeks, he could dream the giggle that escaped you in breathy wisps and wake with the noise still ringing in his ears. But all those dreams were just floating memories, time spent with you replaying in flashes as he slept. Tonight is different. His slumber is deeper, dreams more vivid and lifelike. His perception of reality momentarily becomes skewed as you become the center of his dreams. They’re flashes, just like usual, but it’s not the past that befalls his mind, not this time. This time it’s a life he has not yet lived that filters in; it’s his hopes painted in watercolor dreams that grace him through the dark night.

He sees you backlit by a halo of light, a smile he’s all too familiar with playing timidly at the corners of your lips. It’s a shy smile but the sparkle in your eyes and the way your hand reaches for his speaks comfort. It’s not until his dream self looks down that he catches the gleam of a ring on your finger and he realizes he’s poised on one knee, looking up at the love of his life; the person he intends to marry. His sweetheart. And although the thought of marriage once rattled him he’s taken away with ease to the next flickering image of you.

You’re in the backyard of your shared home and Calum finds nothing unordinary in the ever shifting dream. The flowers are in bloom, the sun shines on you in beautiful beams. Calum’s dream self surmises it’s afternoon, shadows dance along the backyard and colors shift and swirl and the mundane vision becomes extraordinary. You’re suddenly in his arms, adorned in white and Mrs. Hood falls from his lips in a tilted and excited way. It’s new but feels natural, it’s filled with sparks and your reaction—soft eyes and nod of acknowledgement at the new last name—sends him leaning forward, trying in vain to capture dream you in a kiss.

It’s at that very moment the world around him changes once more. The only constant in the ever shifting dreamscape is you. You always come into his line of vision, the dark fading away as your light shines through. This time you’re standing, leaning against the kitchen counter with a small chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter in your clutches. It’s not strange to him; the combination among your favorite indulgences. But when his eyes wander down and finds your free hand cradling a baby bump his heart leaps. He’d thought of kids but he’d always written it off to a maybe or a someday or his usual maybe someday. Not with you though. Now he’s sure. He knows he wants someday to come and there’s a part of him that hopes maybe someday might be soon.

The next flicker drives you away. He’s not sure where you’ve gone; if the dream has shifted and taken you from his unconscious mind. It’s not until he realizes the weight in his arms and looks down. He finds you in the features of your child together. A beautiful baby with his eyes and your nose. He knows he’s dreaming but this maybe someday has him wrapped around a tiny pinky. Your baby giggles, just like you, and grabs Calum’s thumb and his heart. In what feels like split seconds he watches your two lives become three and then four. A son and a daughter. He sees you raising children together and perhaps it’s a bit idyllic but white picket fences and swing sets build visions of the future. Fences and swing sets turn to porch swings and sunsets, old ages not separating you as he saw your lives play out together and wrinkled hands reach for each other, the ring he dropped to one knee to give you still graces your finger.

Calum wakes with a start, a sheen of sweat coats his forehead and though the dreams had been peaceful his heart hammers in his chest. He’s sat bolt upright as he chances a look at you painted by moonlight. His heart calms as he takes in your sleeping form, the way your lips slightly part and the tousled hair splayed across the pillow case that will result in bed head come morning. He can’t bite back a grin as he shifts and leans down to you—the trepidation and heart racing wake up call melting away as he remembers flashes of a life he wants to live. He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs a soft sweetheart in the hopes of waking you with ease. He has to tell you about his dream. He needs you to know all that he saw. He needs to know if you can picture the same.

“Cal?” You grumble, voice weak with exhaustion from the chaos of moving. For a moment he feels bad for waking you, rational mind reckoning he could have waited until morning. But your small smile as your eyes flutter open and meet his tells him it’s okay. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Calum answers, realizing he hadn’t checked a clock, only the moon still being in the sky giving him any sense of time. “Late.”

“What’s wrong?” You wonder as his gaze settles on your hand that clutches the comforter.

“Had a dream,” he begins, finding it hard to put it all into words. His cadence is slow as you furrow your brows and await more explanation; having never been woken by Calum because of a dream.

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask as he continues to collect the words.

He quickly shakes his head ‘no’. “It was about us. Our lives. It was everything I want.”

Calum welcomes you as you maneuver to be in his hold, head resting against his chest to listen to his words and the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. His arms are strong yet soft around you and he presses his chin to the top of your head.

“Everything?” You ask hesitantly, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the end of the question.

“Everything. You wore my ring, you had my last name, we had children and a picket fence and a porch swing. We had each other, we had everything.”

“I want all of that too,” you whisper and Calum’s heart soars at the confirmation.

“Mostly I just want you,” Calum adds on, knowing that fences and porch swings and accessories to life would be meaningless without you in the picture. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You tap his chest three times; right in time with his heart beat and he knows it means you love him too. He falls asleep once more, this time with dreams of certainty that you want everything with him. That being together is everything.

***

If you’d like to be added to my tag list for one shots/long blurbs just let me know!

Copyright © 2019 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be uploaded by anyone else in any format (translations included).

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @calumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @xhaileyreneex @dammitbands @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o

#calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood blurb #cal!dates #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff #5sos blurb #5sos imagine #5sos fluff #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #chblurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines

[scrimmification]

taking a self care day and was instantly hit with temptation so u know what. here’s that dhurkemara essay. but it’ll be under a cut because i’m polite like that

the following is some canon facts sprinkled in with mostly my own headcanons and opinions. but i’m right about everything. cw for mentions of trauma and aa6 spoilers.

i should actually start this by saying that i see a lot of polycule dhurke/amara/jove or dhurke/amara/datz and while it is cute i feel a bit weird about using a poly relationship as just a “oh he has two hands” solution to love triangles. not that poly relationships aren’t valid, but it’s usually just people putting characters together without thinking about how the dynamic would even function. as if a polycule is a band-aid solution.

but that’s not important because this essay is about why dhurke and amara should just be friends (post SOJ)

i do not respect capcom or its canon, but here’s a bunch of canonical soj facts that are kinda fucked up;      - when nahyuta is born, amara is 19 and dhurke is 20      - when the palace fire breaks out, amara is 21 and dhurke is 22      - there’s a gap of approximately 8 years of time where dhurke thinks amara is dead before they reunite and have rayfa (they’re each around the age of 30 at the time)      - there’s a period of time anywhere from 9 months - 1 year that they’re living together again before rayfa and amara are both kidnapped      - following this, dhurke never sees his wife ever again

because i have extreme brainrot, i sat down and feasibly considered the amount of time they would’ve been together. like, genuinely face to face together. if you only take into account the numbers the game gives you, then that means out of 25 years of marriage, they only see each other for about 3 of them. i tend to tack on an extra year or so for dating, but that’s still a really short amount of time, with almost all of it being before the palace fire ever happened. not to mention, they married incredibly young, and amara is royalty. typically royal families will push for children to be wed as soon as they come of age. 

there’s also the fact that canonically, dhurke was not wealthy to any degree. he mentions in a throw away line having a bunch of weird odd jobs including both farmer and street performer (side note, street performer dhurke is hilarious). considering amara was basically hailed as a goddess by virtue of existing, i kind of doubt they were childhood friends or anything before that. my own hcs for how they met and got married initially tend to fall into a romeo and juliet style of mushy romance. plucky lawyer steals the heart of the queen with his humble charm and promises to whisk her away kind of thing. idk i do actually think they were very in love when they were younger, and maybe like... TOO in love, but my essay and thoughts tend to skew towards characterization through how the two of them grow through their traumas. so let’s just go in order of events here;

the palace fire

i do not care what capcom tries to tell me, dhurke has burns. if amara has a giant chest mark from being in the fire for a very short amount of time, dhurke would have full body burns from literally breaking into and out of a burning building. do you know how hot fire is? it’s fucking hot. it’s also genuinely terrifying. my point is i hc dhurke has some form of pyrophobia.

the years after the palace fire and before rayfa is born aren’t given much canon information, but it is stated that amara is convinced dhurke was out to kill her and willingly lives in the palace outside of the public eye. she’s convinced that dhurke is evil and was trying to kill her for at least twice as long as they were married. that kind of skews your perception of a person, no matter how much you might have once loved them. even if you STILL love them, it’s different. feelings change with time, and i think that’s a really fun thing to explore in fiction. 

the rescue/rayfa’s birth

so here’s where i add the drama. just sprinkle it in. there’s a very sneaky line in the game that they kind of slip in during dhurke’s recounting of events around the time rayfa was born, and i have not stopped thinking about it for 2 years.

so plot wise, when apollo presses dhurke about lying about amara being dead, he talks about how he (somehow) got a tip that amara was alive and still being held in the palace. he broke in to save her and potentially run away with her, datz, and and nahyuta into safety, but they add something else in there. dhurke has a moment where he says she didn’t initially believe his innocence. and it’s kind of just played as a joke.

but because i like conflict and i do not write dhurke the same hyper-toxic-masculine way they do in canon because i think Men Should Be Allowed To Have Feelings i thought. man that must fucking suck. everyone in the entire kingdom thinks he’s the devil, and the one person he’s been doing it all for the sake of - his wife - initially doubts his innocence. of course this is obviously an understandable response. she was basically trapped and gaslit for nearly a full decade over an event that nearly cost her her own life (and would have to instead come to terms with the fact her own sister wanted her dead) but like it still. it would still suck to hear that from your spouse?

they were together for under a year, and in this time rayfa was born. this is probably my favorite window of time to explore a dhurke and amara relationship adapting because they would be such different people now. time already effects how you personally grow and adapt, but the kind of horrors they went to would drastically change them both. neither of them would be the same kids they fell in love with, and dhurke had just shipped one of his kids to america in an attempt to protect him. he’d already be down bad, but to have to deal with that, his wife not fully trusting him, nahyuta not knowing their own mother and most likely not trusting her initially, and also an entire pregnancy... that’d be an incredible amount of stress, on top of the fact they’re both living under the law. 

(sidebar; because of how weird they had to twist the timeline to make it so apollo was gone before rayfa was born so they never met, i tend to headcanon this as dhurke trying to send both his kids to america to protect them, but not being able to initially send nahyuta because of their royalty status, and it quickly becoming too late.)

something else that confused me was why the hell they’d even have another kid while they’re both trying to save themselves, and that... uh. okay maybe this is an unpopular thing to say in terms of headcanon, but i actually believe rayfa was an accidental birth. like logistically, if you see your wife for the first time in almost a decade, you’re going to do Something. and you don’t have protection in the mountains. i’m just. i’m just saying.

but all of that being said, more than anything, i think they’d still be in love during this point. or more accurately, i think they’d be trying to convince themselves they’re still in love. they wouldn’t be the same people anymore, but the only thing dhurke has left is his family. it’s the thing he’s fighting for, and amara would have just been told she can’t go back to her sister for her own safety. there’s this kind of pressure to stay together for both themselves and their kids. there’s also a part where dhurke implies that the two of them were planning on trying to escape khura’in together and cross country lines before shit hits the fan.

turnabout revolution

so if you’re a coward who actually considers canon, after rayfa and amara get kidnapped, dhurke never sees them again. sure, he gets spirit channeled by amara in the final trial, but he never sees her face to face, or gets a chance to speak with her. if you’re like me and simply refuse to believe your favorite characters die, then that means there’s a 14 year gap between the next time dhurke and amara speak to each other.

what’s the first thing amara does when they see each other again? accuse him of murder.

in fairness, she’s under threat of blackmail to do so. she’s trying to protect both her children at this point, and clearly had a role to play in inga’s murder herself that she doesn’t want to admit to. but at the same time, when apollo reveals that dhurke was actively hiding evidence because he still loved her, she seemed genuinely surprised. this revelation is the thing that gets her to actually go against ga’ran’s plot. there’s also the obvious point of her picking her children’s safety over dhurke’s entire revolution, and what he’s been working on for her sake for most of his life. and honestly I thinks she made the right and most understandable choice. the real part that makes me think they wouldn’t get back together after the events of soj (provided dhurke isn’t an epic ghost guy) is,

amara chooses her own safety over dhurke’s, while dhurke chooses her safety over his own.

dhurke’s a very hopeful character, a very jovial one. throughout all his screen time, there’s no point where he genuinely thinks nahyuta has betrayed him. there’s no point where he thinks apollo isn’t capable of handling the case without him. he clearly cares a lot about his family, and would do anything for them. this includes amara. he’s not asked to hide evidence for her sake, he just does it. at the risk of undermining his entire revolution and destroying it entirely, he tries to hide evidence that’d implicate his wife of murder.

amara’s more of a realist. she doesn’t give up information until she absolutely has to. she doesn’t even admit to loving dhurke until the last moment she’s on screen. the only lines in the game she has as herself are during the trial, and half the time she’s just telling everyone how horrible and awful and terrible her husband was. and again, i must say, this would probably suck to hear.

the aftermath

the country is kind of a little fucked after soj. sure, it ends on a positive note, kind of, but there’s both a lot of political stuff to fix. and a lot of family stuff to fix. dhurke basically has to rebuild his relationship with every single one of his family members (and in rayfa’s case, from scratch). while I do think marriage is important and stuff, I don’t think it’d be... the most important.

what i’m saying is i think they’d be friends. even if they stayed married, they’d have to relearn almost everything about each other. they haven’t seen each other in forever, and also amara just threw dhurke under the bus. that’d sting! i think he’d forgive her for that, but it’d sting. knowing your partner would have willingly let you and your entire cause go up in flames sucks. it all sucks. soj is a very downer aa game.

and also i value m/f friendship a lot. i value older adult relationships a lot. i value exploring unfortunate and uncomfortable themes in learning to grow as a person and dealing with your own trauma a lot. i think there’s a lot to explore in characters like dhurke and amara. alot of people prefer thinking about the relationships between nahyuta and apollo and rayfa as siblings, which is great! but... i don’t know. i really like fictional dads. i like thinking about him getting more time with his kids. i like thinking about amara learning to become a person instead of a revered goddess. i like them becoming real people instead of just figureheads in a political war.

also i think dhurke and datz should kiss because they raised kids together in the mountains for 20 years

#thanks for coming to. something #i think about dead side character so you don't have to #dhurke sahdmadhi #amara sigatar khura'in #soj spoilers

[bigskydreaming]

Off track question, do you have favorite runs for Superman and Damian individually? And also, if a book reader who has never read comics wanted to read some, would you be able to recommend at least one very good run from each of the big 3?

Hmm, good question but I’m gonna have to open this up for others to weigh in on because I just haven’t read enough Superman in years to really have any springing to mind there. Clark’s one of those characters that I love but I just don’t like most writers take on him whatsoever so I’m like.....hmm, I’m gonna skip it, lol.

For Damian I’d recommend avoiding his Teen Titans runs because YIKES do I hate how they characterize him there.....whereas Supersons stuff with Jon Kent and Damian, while skewing younger, is pretty fun, and its great to see Damian with an actual friend, y’know? 

Morrison’s original Batman and Robin run with Dick as Batman and Damian as his Robin is.....idk, I hesitate to recommend it because on the one hand its pretty formative and essential to Dick and Damian’s relationship and did some sizable development and foundation-laying there.....but on the other hand I hate almost everything else about it, Morrison’s take on Jason is trash, and I just don’t really care for their take on a lot of the larger Batfam dynamics. I think Morrison is one of those writers who goes into a run with a very clear vision in their head of what story they want to tell, and have no problem reconfiguring characters into whatever they need to be in order to make their story work, rather than trying to build a story around pre-existing characterizations and that’s just not really to my taste, personally. So its one of those runs that is iconic and kinda necessary to be at least familiar with to really understand a lot of what’s done later with various characters, and there are certainly parts of it overall that I like, but I don’t really like the run itself as a whole, lol. So make of that what you will. I’m not even sure if that actually counts as recommending it or not fhaslkhfkalhfla.

For good runs about the Big Three.....for Wonder Woman, I’d recommend Greg Rucka’s run. He’s the writer of the comic The Old Guard movie on Netflix was based on, if you’re familiar with that, and I really liked his take on Diana, and how he incorporated Greek mythology into her adventures. Its pre-Flashpoint, so it goes with the version of Diana brought to life by the gods for Hippolyta rather than her being a daughter of Zeus like in the New 52, just FYI.

For Batman, again pre-Flashpoint but I’d go with Bruce Wayne: Murderer? and Bruce Wayne: Fugitive. I recommend them because while not necessarily the best Batman runs out there, I think they cover a good....spectrum? Like, in the course of them they show a lot of different sides to Bruce and the Batfam in general (at least for that era....Dick, Tim, Steph, Cass and Babs in specific). I think all of those characters get a pretty good showing at various points of the story, it contains some of my favorite Dick and Cass interactions and team-ups, shows the early stages of Cass and Steph’s friendship, and does a pretty good job at getting at what makes Bruce tick, both the highs and the lows of his character without ever going TOO low with Bruce’s character and dipping him into outright abusive behavior like other runs have. Like, I was frustrated with Bruce a LOT in those stories, but you’re supposed to be and the narrative does that for a REASON and doesn’t leave it unresolved, which is my big gripe with most runs’ treatment of Bruce and issues that arise between him and his family.

Another good one for Bruce in particular is The Long Halloween....its an older run but really quality and delves into a lot of the Rogues and his views of and interactions with them individually. Just realized that I’m recommending a lot of Loeb here which is weird because overall I am SO not a Jeph Loeb fan but I have to admit his Batman stuff is definitely better than most of his other work. And in for a penny in for a pound so I might as well go ahead and rec Batman: Hush too, which is a bit of a weird one and not really beloved by a lot of fans but I’ve always been pretty partial to it because I like the focus on Bruce’s investigative methods and process and thoughts as he goes about trying to get to the root of a mystery that’s deliberately pushing at all his buttons....again, without giving into the urge to take Bruce to too dark a place and completely alienate him from his family. Also I think Hush is an underrated Batman villain and could be a major player if used more and with the right touch.

And again, as for Superman, I don’t really have any runs that stick out for me as faves......most of my love for Clark’s character comes from his appearances in other books and characters’ lives, as for various reasons most writers’ focus just on his character in his own book tends to lose me. Like, I either find their depiction too superficial and think they lean too much into the caricature of Clark Kent the good wholesome Midwest farmboy without any real depth to him, or else they lean too far in the direction of trying to make him edgy or throw curveballs into their depiction of him just to surprise readers and shake up the perception of him. The ideal Clark Kent for me lies somewhere in between those two extremes.

That said, for lack of any other ideas I’d go with the Death of Superman arc from the early 90s. Because it was big, it had weight and impact at the time, and I think its underrated and has been largely moved past in most readers’ minds and DC’s as well, which is a shame because if nothing else, it was a story with momentum and consequences and really brought into focus what Superman means to the DC universe and other characters in a way that few other stories have IMO.

[featherymalignancy]

This may be a long one and reflects a HUGELY unpopular opinion, sorry in advance. Reading about the relationship between Feyre and Nesta was like looking into a mirror image of mine and my sister’s relationship. Reading the ACOTAR series just out of college helped me realize that my sister had been emotionally abusing me my entire life (and still does every chance she gets even though I’m closer to 30 than I am to 20). It’s what made me acknowledge that my “social anxiety” may not be just shyness and it was later determined to be a symptom of PTSD. I’ve been in therapy ever since I’ve finished ACOMAF being treated for complex PTSD from lifelong emotional abuse. My feelings toward my sister are very complex. Do I still love her? Yes. Do I like her? Most of the time, no. Did I hate her when I was Feyre’s age? Yes, but I didn’t understand why. Would I defend her with my life? No. Would I love to be able to answer yes to that question? Absolutely. However, until she acknowledges that how she treats me and everyone else around her is harmful, that’s just not going to happen. I’ve worked through enough of the self hate inside me to recognize I deserve better than what she’s offering. There’s still a large (and petty, let’s be honest) part of me that would love a Rhys of my own to defend me in front of her, just because no one ever has before (no hate to my parents, they are every bit as human and her victims as I am, but that’s another conversation altogether). Am I grown up enough now to know that her behavior is caused by trauma of her own? Yes, and my heart hurts for her. But that doesn’t excuse her behavior or make it acceptable. It also doesn’t make it any less hurtful or harmful. All this being said, I understand and empathize with Feyre greatly. She is the first character that I’ve ever felt represented by and it validated all of the mental health issues I was struggling with and made me feel like I wasn’t broken. I am also able to recognize that her perception of Nesta is greatly skewed and I’m predicting that SJM did that on purpose to allow for massive character growth. I am also able to recognize that Feyre kicking Nesta out of Velaris was a selfish move and a very flawed decision, but I probably would have done the same thing at 21. I am also able to realize that we only have half of the story, just like I only have my half of the story of my relationship with my sister. Idk, I guess I’m just trying to provide another perspective so that this sister dynamic makes a little more sense. Hopefully I’m not too up my own ass for this to make any sense

Okay so let me first clarify in saying that anything I say on this blog is my opinion, so of course you’re not up your own ass. ♥️ obviously the way I assert my opinion sounds like I think it’s fact (i.e. That’s not how sisters treat each other) but of course it’s just how I feel, which is totally fallible.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered from your sister, that sounds devastating. I am glad that a) you’ve been empowered to defend yourself and b) to understand her actions aren’t yours to own.

And I’m glad that Feyre’s journey has empowered you, that’s huge. I think it goes to show that you bring your own experiences into fiction, which is what makes fiction powerful. To me, Nesta is deeply flawed, but I see my sisters in and myself in her very much. We’ve traded a lot of blows (quite literally—I once had to head cracked against our granite counter top for teasing my sister) but there is love and loyalty there. It’s not always handled correctly, but the bones are there.

In Feyre I see...nothing I care to really get into publically. Certainly nothing I would prize in a sibling. Or a friend. Or a person? Enough, Cara, she gets your point, don’t be a dick.

But again, that is just me! I’m sorry if the way I’ve phrased all the siblings stuff came off as high-handed, i didn’t mean to make you feel that your own sibling experience was invalid, and if I did, I apologize. I will try and be more circumspect in the future. ♥️

#archeron sisters #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

[bisluthq]

Re: other exes getting hate. I’ve been hanging out in various fandom spaces since about 2007 and tbh there are always little pockets somewhere who dislike the current guy, but it’s never very widespread (it still isn’t; Gaylors et al kinda have a skewed perception bc so much of the Joe hate that DOES exist is in their corner of the fandom where they see it all the time, but the fandom at large is...really not all that bothered by Joe lol). Calvin got a fairly notable amount of hate even among mainstream fans, especially towards the end as that relationship just kept dragging on and on and fans could lowkey tell more and more that Taylor was unhappy, but his problematic behavior and general hateability has already been covered so like yeah the hate made sense. To a lesser extent I also remember an oddly large segment of fans meanly snarking on Joe J while they were still dating - BEFORE we found out he’d fucked up and their hateboners became justified lmao - but I think that was likely just a reflection of how divisive the Jonas Brothers were among teenage girls in general at the time (since much like Taylor herself and also like...probably all other boybands ever, a decent chunk of the target demographic was too cool and/or too Not Like Other Girls to like them and absolutely had to make sure everyone knew this at all times, even when nobody asked), bc I was pretty young then so the fan spaces I hung out in skewed young too. Maybe the snark was less in other segments of the fandom, idk.

Other than that, the ex who got the most widespread hate during the relationship itself was definitely - wait for it - Harry. Which is SUPER ironic now since Haylor somehow became extremely popular and romanticized in hindsight??? But it was NOT a fun time for the fandom for the most part because Harry’s fans acted like literal fucking demons all the time (and so did the internet at large tbh...right around Haylor was when “ugh Taylor Swift dates soooo many guys what a slut” stopped being a socially acceptable reason to hate her so everyone had to come up with various woke excuses instead, the main one being that SHE supposedly slut-shamed all the time lmao) and I think people eventually just had so much anger that it had to go somewhere and Harry became the target, and/or they just got so used to associating his face with bullies (since they all had him as their icon and such) that they just started hating him by association. A pretty sizeable chunk of the fandom was NOT fond of Harry at all for quite a while, which is so funny bc now literally everyone is obsessed with him and/or Haylor lmao. But yeah, I would say from my personal experience Calvin got the most hate from fans by far, Harry was probably in 2nd place but got a redemption arc later on, and Joe currently gets maybe about the same amount Harry did at the time when you add up both the Gaylors/Kaylors and the cupcakes who think he made Taylor abandon them or whatever.

Also I’m sorry I wrote a whole novel about this, I’m procrastinating something right now if you can’t tell lmao

This is the best explanation of it ever lmao I love fandom veterans sfm like I do want to pour one out for all y’all for keeping on as long as you have but yeah this make sense.

Haylor was fairly dislikable in the moment (like as a lowkey Tay anti and a hard 1D anti except for Zayn who I was like “yeah well I have eyeballs”) so I get people hating him/them but maaaaan that redemption arc lmao.

Joe J being hated is funnnnnnnyyyyyy to me.

Calvin just sucks lol and should be hated at every opportunity.

Also!!! Again I ADORE takes from the fandom veterans like you guys went through the wars and it shows and like I know I haven’t been “in” fandom for that long and while I do back read stuff because eh it’s fun I love it when people who were there and remember it all too well share their takes.

#nat talks swiftdom #nat talks messsy tay things