#It's not actually ugly it's so neat and clean and practical

[sassypotatoe1]

Me: "I want brass plumbing and hardware in my home one day it's so pretty and antimicrobial" sees the cost of brass plumbing "NEVERMIND STAINLESS STEEL IT IS"

[houseofwolvess]

im so frustrated with how everyone's now, like, expected to make their sketchbooks all pretty and neat and aesthetically pleasing or w/e. it's such a stupid expectation

[manwrre]

This is my contribution to the harringrove relay race!

Title: 💫 heaven at your fingertips 💫

Rating: explicit content

Word Count: 3,055

Tags include: trans male character billy, alternate universe - college/university, domestic boyfriends and afab language while describing genitalia.

•

Despite what anyone with working eyes and a brain might think, Steve doesn’t actually hate his job.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to entertain the thought— everyday at a campus coffee shop is rough— but he doesn’t dislike it. His hours are pretty flexible and his coworkers are all great. There’s an endless amount of staff drinks allowed on a single shift and Steve’s allowed to bring home as many leftover doughnuts as he wants. His boss and the owner of Bean’d, Todd, isn’t really around to micromanage them but whenever he does pop in, Steve feels lucky enough to be there despite the minimum wage paycheck.

So hate it, he does not.

Not even on the worst days when he’s spread thin and exhausted. Not even on a brutal day like today. The shittiest day that he’s had in a while, he thinks, stepping out of the rundown elevator and unto his floor. The fact that he’s practically home doesn’t even seem to help. If anything, the distance between the elevator and his front door seems longer than usual as he walks. His shoulders are heavyset with eight hours of tension and his feet ache so deeply that the dusty, burgundy of the hallway’s carpets look comfortable. Perfect for a seat. Or a nap.

He doubts his neighbors would mind if he just settled there for the night. Mr Stewart might pretend to be pissed but Mrs Maulkin, who lives next door, is just about the sweetest, little lady. She pinches his cheeks and always goes on and on about him getting more sleep. Once, she’d even watered their plants when he and Billy visited the kids back in Hawkins on break so yeah, she’s pretty neat.

Ideally, she would probably prefer if he didn’t get said rest on her welcome mat but he wasn’t going to be picky. His shift had just about driven all of the pickiness out of him. Whacked it out of him with a broom sometime between the morning rush and the midday rush or maybe, it was between the evening rush and clean up? Point is, it’s been beaten out of him.

Above his head, the yellow bulbs blink almost lazily and he reaches for his keys. He swings the lanyard around his finger almost idly and eyes the peeling, black paint of the apartment numbers.

505……506…….507…….508……509…….Ah.

He unlocks the door, shuffles inside with a sigh and for a second, just stands there. The scent of home surrounds him immediately and some of the day’s weight falls at his feet as he flicks the lights on in the small walkway. He hangs his backpack unto the hook shaped like a little guitar that Billy seems to like so much. Grabs the brown, greasy bag of donuts that Billy also seems to like so much and toes his shoes off.

“Bee, I’m home!” He nudges the pair of kicks out of sight with socked toes and blindly tosses his keys into the nearby bowl. Catches a whiff of himself. Pauses. Almost keels over. All in that order.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gags aloud.

Beneath the cloying scent of artificial syrups, powdered sugar and dozens of iced matchas with oat milk and brown sugar foam, is the usual sweat and grime of a long day. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror either, to know that his hair is all flat and ugly beneath his cap. too.

He needs a shower and a nap and some food and really, just his fucking boyfriend. Again, all in that order but it’s been a long week of barely seeing each other with finals and the usual shifts so he knows that he’s only gonna cover number five on that list before passing out.

“Billy?” he calls again, flipping the main lights on.

The action casts a soft glow across their little, one bedroom apartment.

Fully furnished and equipped with a couple of leaky faucets and chipped wallpaper but theirstheirstheirs. A year ago, she was all they could afford on their meager savings in California but now, she’s home. Steve studies his social work on the bedroom floor and Billy stocks their shelves with books about anatomy. They cook dinner together on most nights in their dingy, little kitchen, watch trashy horror in the living room and spend every night wrapped around each other.

“I brought donuts again. We were outta the pistachio ones so I got glazed and no, Sam didn’t make them this time.”

He pads across the living room, not a trace of his boyfriend in sight and dumps the paper bag on the counter. He’s convinced that Billy might be asleep— it’s been a long week of exams and Steve cracks the door to their bedroom open, fully expecting the room to be shrouded in darkness,

only to pause.

To take it all in.

Because oh.

Steve can’t help it— he’s drawn to the sight of too naked legs and too smooth thighs. Can’t focus on anything but the way that Billy’s hand disappears between them. Can’t wrap his mind around anything other than the fact that Billy is very much awake and very much touching himself in front of him. In the flesh.

There’s a lot to take in.

Billy’s naked from the waist down and facing the doorway; his legs spread to reveal the pink of his pussy as he thumbs across his clit. Steve’s gaze lifts then, up his bare, little waist and to the thinning material of Billy’s tee shirt, which is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing. He zones in on where the worn, blue material fits snugly across his boyfriends chest,

swallows,

and then meets the amused blues of Billy’s eyes.

Billy, who doesn’t dare hide the heat in them or the intent behind his smirk.

“Hi, Stevie.” he purrs, predatory. Like a shark that’s just smelled blood. “Crazy day?”

The lowness of his voice sends a jolt of heat down Steve’s abdomen; one that settles at the base of his cock all hot and heavy. And in response, Steve’s shoulders drop, his body relaxes and the day’s toll leaks out of him. Sludging. Lethargic.

God, he’s easy.

“Uh huh,” he mutters, unintelligibly, at first. Then, snaps out of it enough to flash Billy a smile.

“Funnily enough, I actually think it’s about to get crazier.” He shuts the door behind him and steps closer. His gaze only stray for a matter of seconds to catalog everything about Billy in this moment. The navy blue of their sheets beneath the blonde. The handful of books on their bedside table. Billy’s hair all tied up into a loose bun. His pebbling nipples. His wet, hot cunt and the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching himself.

“Yeah? I wonder why.” the blonde drawls, quirking a brow.

“Dunno, think I’m about to get laid or something.” He’s teasing and Steve loves it.

“Or something,” Billy mocks, rolling his eyes but Steve’s words have him biting his lip.

He’s trying to come off as unaffected but Steve knows he’s anything but. The soft curls sticking to Billy’s forehead, damp with sweat and all, let him know that this has been an ongoing endeavor. God knows how long Billy’s been pleasuring himself— dripping like this; his cheeks flushed a pretty scarlet, eyes dark and lips an almost mottled red. Bitten plump. Half-parted in pleasure for a beat too long whenever he speaks.

Steve doesn’t have to pretend. He doesn’t want to hide the urgency that he feels or the effect that Billy has on him, so he tugs his shirt up over his head before tossing it aside.

He crosses the distance between them in no time and crawls into the alcove between Billy’s thighs oh so easily. Steve thinks, yes and finally and this is exactly where he belongs when he’s got Billy under him. He thinks holy shit, you’re lovely when his boyfriend stares up at him with wide, dark eyes and pulls him closer by the loops of his belt. Simultaneously, Steve lifts one of Billy’s golden thighs upupup around his waist and lessens the oxygen between them with a kiss so hot that the air around them feels supercharged.

He loses himself in the soft give of Billy’s lips and nips at his cupid’s bow with an impatient noise. Beneath him, Billy opens up like a black hole; this consuming, taking thing and Steve licks into his mouth all too eagerly. The blonde’s answering moan is breathy and high and Steve laps at every slick crook with his tongue—to taste, to feel, to map out and to claim. Beneath him, Billy’s hips jerk to life just as Steve becomes breathless with desire and blindly, he seeks purchase in the rough material of Steve’s jeans. The soppy, wet heat of his cunt seeps through to Steve’s skin as Billy rides his thigh.

“Stevie— please, I need you to fuck me.” Billy gasps into his mouth.

Steve takes advantage of this and busies himself by stamping kisses across the curve of Billy’s jaw and throat and neck. He sucks pretty, purpling bruises into the golden skin there and ruts down against his pliant, waiting body. A taste so distinctly Billy explodes on his tongue; clean and citrusy and tangy and Steve loves it.

Steve groans deeply, “Yea, sweetheart? You missed me?”

“You try being celibate in an apartment with your hot ass– ah, boyfriend for two weeks. A perfectly timed breeze could’ve had to creaming my fucking pants at the quad today,” Billy hisses and Steve can’t help it, he laughs.

“A breeze, baby? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch,” the amusement is palpable in his voice. He knows that Billy must sense it, even with his eyes closed because then, they aren’t. They aren’t and Steve is forced to meet those dark, dark eyes and trace the expanse of Billy’s flush from his cheeks, all the way down his chest. And without another word, he’s undoing his belt; his fly coming undone and everything. He shucks off his jeans and underwear in one swoop and wounds a hand around his chubbing cock.

It’s hot and thick in his too dry palm but the contact sends a surge of crackling heat up his spine.

He sees Billy’s attention shift. Feels his cock throb as he does that thing; the one where he tongues at his lower lip and his gaze flits between Steve’s and his cock almost thoughtfully. And his mouth is suddenly dry as he follows the subtle quivers of Billy’s stomach. Watches it dip and swell and hears his intake of breath because all the while, the blonde’s hips never exactly cease. They just slow into deep, core aching figure eights until he can’t take it and he’s reaching between their bodies for Steve’s cock.

Billy’s touch is warm but callous-rough and feels like heaven around him. In thanks, Steve winds his fingers into the blonde’s curls to steady himself, while Billy uses the precum at the head of his cock to jerk him off hard and fast. The pace has him fucking into the tight ring of fingers with a choked off moan, “Fuck– oh.”

Billy’s smug. He knows this because the demanding slide of his fist slows and well, he says as much. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna bust a nut the minute I get my mouth on you. That’s gonna make it even more embarrassing,”

“Brat.” Steve spits but he’s smiling and scooting up so that his thighs bracket Billy’s head.

“Pushover.” Billy laughs, genuinely pleased and swallows Steve’s cock into his mouth with a wet noise.

The sudden too hot, too wet of it punches an aggressive exhale out through his nose,“Holy shit, fuck” and he grabs unto the headboard while Billy makes easy work of him.

Billy sucks the head into his mouth with a practiced ease that makes Steve weak in the knees and melts all of the fight right out of him. It’s all familiar but Steve will never get used to this. Will never fail to be amazed at how well Billy takes him; unyielding as he tongues at the sensitive underside of Steve’s cock and groans around him in a way that liquifies his fucking mind. It takes everything in him not to shout when Billy hollows his cheeks and instead, his grip grows tighter in the mess of blonde curls until he’s sure it hurts.

“You’re so fucking good at this, baby. So pretty,” He cradles Billy’s cheek, only to be rewarded by a hint of teeth across the thick vein that Steve favors, near the crown.

Billy moans around the cock in his mouth and Steve’s brain collapses in on itself like a dying star. When he speaks, his voice is a low, warbled thing, “Waited all day just to suck me off, I bet. Just to put that mouth to use, huh, sweetheart?” And then, Billy pulls away to slap the leaking, ruddied head against his tongue for Steve to see. He lets it sit there. Lets the precum pool sluggishly on the pink of it and stares up at him in a way that makes Steve feel like coming home. God, he’s so close.

“C’mon, baby. I wanna cum but I’m gonna do it inside of you,” Steve grabs at his jaw affectionately before shifting sideways and falling onto his back invitingly. It takes everything in him to stay there.

He swats at the curve of Billy’s ass as he moves and swings a leg over to bracket Steve’s hips, ignoring his grumbled complaint of ‘being too lazy’. The next part comes easily, however. Billy doesn’t waste any time before he’s sinking down on his cock in a swift, decisive motion; his pussy opening up around Steve with the tiniest bit of give.

And then everything clicks into place.

Billy’s cunt is slick and he makes the prettiest sight on top of him but Steve doesn’t move. He’s trying his damndest not to and ignoring the flex of his thighs as his pelvis seems to ache with need to just do something. But he doesn’t move because Billy loves this. Billy needs this moment, so he waits. He watches as Billy holds himself tightly and he adjusts to the sheer girth of Steve— his palms lying flat against his bare chest and his hips moving in shallow bursts.

“Oh,” Billy breathes out before sitting up and slamming himself down on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, there you go,” Steve growls and plants his heels deeper in the mattress with every thrust. He grabs at Billy’s hips and at his thighs, brushing his fingers across the curve of his ass where stretch marks color the skin liquid-gold against bronze. Rivulets like the rings of Saturn. Like Billy’s his entire world and here lies the proof of it.

The thought sends a possessive thrill through him and his grip on Billy’s ass turns bruising. Tomorrow, Steve will nip and suck more galaxies into it but for now, he tries to mold a place inside of him with his cock; deep and hard until he finds the place that makes Billy howl and stiffen.

“Steve— right there, right there, right there. Don’t stop fucking me, please,” He cries, shifting until Steve swears his cockhead nudges against the damn near opening of Billy’s womb. And he knows that Billy feels it too because he flinches, as if surprised, as if the pleasure is tinged with pain but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

“C’mon, baby. You can take it, don’t run.” he croons, forcing Billy to do some of the work; to rut back against his cock and envelope it whole and that’s exactly what he does. The blonde’s thighs flex with the strain of working himself open but he takes it so fucking well and Steve loses himself in the suctioning grip of Billy’s cunt. Closes his eyes and swears there are universes being created behind his eyelids. Star by star. Space dust by space dust.

“You were waiting for it, right? Wanted it so badly, gorgeous boy,” he chokes out, needing to let Billy know just how badly he’s got him.

The sound Billy makes in response is winded, all the same and then oh so pleased as he drops his hips into a slow, dirty downward grind. It’s miasmic and Steve feels the sloppy mess of Billy’s pussy against his abdomen and pulsating around him.

“Oh my god— Stevie, I’m gonna cum. Oh please, I’m gonna cum,” he ruts against Steve’s cock in these half aborted, little circles and Steve is equally as devastated by the constant bursts of pleasure and pressure.

The heat in his gut is building just as quickly. It’s a dangerous, tumultuous thing that expands past his groin and into his gut. He feels it in his hips, in his chest, at the back of his mouth and behind his teeth. It’s so close that he can taste it and he meets Billy halfway with the next few thrusts, plunging deeper into him, as if to say, ‘you feel it too, right?’

He’s whispering a mantra of, “Yea, baby? Right there?” and these desperate, half chewed off variations of Billy’s name.

And so many things happen within the next second that Steve can barely keep track of them. Billy muffles a moan between his teeth, whining all high at the back of his throat as he nods. He fucks himself on Steve’s cock with a restless abandon that comes from chasing his own orgasm. And Steve thinks, his womb. Billy’s fucking womb. He must be in it. He wants to knock him up so bad that it’s dizzying. So bad that it’s earth shattering and gravity defying. There’s the build up of white, blinding pleasure and then— the string snaps. Billy’s cumming around him with a shout and Steve’s fucking his cock into him without reprieve; thrusts long and drawn out as they ride the wave together.

He cums for so long and so hard, that Steve thinks he might have passed out a little. When he comes to, Billy’s cunt is still milking him dry and the blonde is plastered to his chest in his own, little world. Boneless but sated.

At that moment, the weariness in his bones hits him all at once and he winces. Shifts a little beneath Billy’s full weight but stamps a kiss to his forehead nonetheless. Billy grumbles into his sweat slick chest before pressing his lips there in return and brushing his mess of hair out of his eyes.

“So… donuts?” And Steve snorts.

“Yeah, donuts. I can’t believe we just screwed and that’s what you’re worried about.”

Billy’s answering smile is wicked and travels straight to Steve’s heart, “You knew who I was before you dated me so now you’re stuck,” and he’s smug about the fact.

His amusement is short lived as Steve’s softening cock slips out of him, alongside the mess of cum and Steve rolls them unto their sides. “Only because rent is killer in California but as soon as I make it big?”

Steve pats his cheek and yawns, “You’re outta here, hot stuff.”

Billy doesn’t fight him, though. Doesn’t argue that they can afford somewhere a little bigger now or that he’s pulling in more money than Steve is at the mechanic’s shop. He doesn’t point out that Steve’s been saying that almost everyday for a year and yet, still brings home his favorite donuts and will cuddle Billy for as long as he’d like after his shift because he misses him.

He doesn’t say it but Steve knows. He feels it in his chest the same way, too and thanks God and the universe for giving him a little bit of the sun and stars to hold; to keep with him forever.

minor technical difficulties meant that this was a little delayed!! so sorry everyone. i had so much fun working on this!! please look forward to the lovely upcoming work from our next contributor, @racketti and many thanks to @harringrove-relay-race for being such an amazing host 💗

[blackbeeno3569]

It's like a concept story but more for... concepts of characters than the actual story. I have to find out who Manny is. There are some things to be cleared out about those two as well. It's unfinished. And maybe it shouldn't be published at all - but what do I know, maybe someone will say or ask something that will spark a new idea. Or sometimes I just need to stare at these concept texts long enough before the idea arrives and things get their final form... Whatever it is, have some really, really melodramatic tale.

For a while as I don't think this will stay here forever.

MOONLIGHT

It was a peaceful night, not different from any other. Pitch had returned home quite early, long before dawn. It felt like the fearlings could do the rest of the job alone, while he had a promise to keep. 

Hazel was waiting for him in the hills, maps of the night sky neatly folded in her pockets. The sky was clear, a perfect night to learn a bit about its magic. 

There were ways to weave a starshine, ways to claim the darkness for one’s own… He helped her practice, both enjoying the calm joy of work well done. 

Hazel just let the starry glimmer dance around her, harmless, merry incantation, when she frowned, looking up at Pitch. 

“I… I don’t feel well…” 

“It seems you’re doing everything right,” he raised an eyebrow. But before either one of them could say anything more, the Apiarist gasped for air, fainting. 

It was so sudden, so without warning, that he barely managed to catch her. 

Just moments ago there was nothing wrong with her. Now without any explanation she laid limp against him, barely breathing. And Pitch felt a panic creeping to his thoughts, as he was desperately trying to help her, to understand what just happened. Every second felt like an hour as he couldn’t wake her up.

The moonlight was impossibly bright, encapsulating a scene of profound fear - the kind even Pitch wouldn’t be able to conjure from nothing. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, old friend.” 

That voice. 

Smooth and friendly. The voice that ringed with fine teacups, rich brownies and silky words. 

“You…” the Boogeyman breathed out slowly, turning around with a pounding heart. A small figure in moonlight smiled. 

“Don’t worry,” he repeated, “I’m here just to set things right.” 

With those words Man in the Moon approached them and Pitch Black, with Hazel in his arms, instinctively made a step back. 

“After all those years,” he said, his voice trembling - with hate, with despise and with fear, “what more do you want from me? Didn’t you break me enough? Didn’t you take enough from me?” 

Manny nodded in agreement, shortening the distance between them with light steps no one would really expect from this small, chubby spirit. “Oh I did, Pitch. And I almost got the world into the shape I wanted. Clean, clear, black and white neatly divided,” he spoke, gesturing that neat division, his tone just as light, seemingly oblivious to the terror within the dark spirit. “Almost. But you, you have an ugly habit of ressisting,” his words drew a degree colder, more menacing, “The old spirits coming back? Turning my Guardians into your allies? Blurring completely the line between Good and Evil? I can’t have that.” 

With a swift slash of his arm, Man in the Moon drew something from her. A glow that encircled them, eventually becoming a ring of intricate patterns, bright against the dark night. Pitch had seen such a thing just once in his long life. And now he tightened his grip on her, as if protecting her soulless body could change anything at all. 

“She is… such an unexpected circumstance,” Manny said quietly, “and she flipped the tables here. But you have a role to play, Pitch, and I won’t let you escape it.” 

An old, familiar anger made its way forward through the haze of panic and darkness around Pitch grew thicker. “A role?,” the Boogeyman snarled, “I was fine going without it for ages! The world was fine! No one gave you the right to play god, Manny! To destroy my life and countless others on your whim!” 

The spirit of belief chuckled. What a pleasant noise. 

“Careful, careful, or she might sleep over a thousand years,” he smirked, absolutely sure that he had an upper hand, “We are creatures of belief, Pitch! And belief is a gift from mankind. It makes us in debt. I’m only settling this debt by moulding our world in their favour… It’s fair, you see. But you don’t need to understand…” Manny looked at him with a smile, almost warm, “it doesn’t matter what you think, if you’d be back in your place. And luckily, I know how to fix that.” 

A cold grip grasped Pitch’s heart as he watched Manny’s gaze land on Hazel. 

“Don’t,” he whispered, knowing he’s only begging now, humiliated and terrified, but he couldn’t stop himself: “Please don’t hurt her…” 

“I told you. I won’t. I’ll fix the things.” 

Before Pitch could do anything, Manny raised a hand and the patterns around them started to shift, his power running through them as a golden arrow, reorganising the whole image.

“Belief, Pitch,” Manny said, watching the Boogeyman with a satisfied smile, “is fascinating. Hers consists of the human belief, sure, that much she deserves, but also of yours… and that’s… an anomaly. I’ll fix that pattern, I’ll weave you out to the place where you truly belong… And have her then, if you must. But in an appropriate way.” 

“Appropriate… way?” Pitch’s voice cracked as he could barely breathe. The magic around them was mesmerising and making him feel completely helpless. 

“You are the villain of this world, Boogeyman,” Manny reminded him cheerfully, “you used to be good at it.” 

The light faded, the magic disappeared. 

The Man in the Moon was gone. 

Hazel moved slightly in his arms and Pitch lowered her on the grass quickly, helping her to sit. 

“Hazel!”

She opened her eyes finally, catching her breath, she looked at him and screamed in fear.

—

That scream cut through him like a blade. She pushed herself away from his reach, watching him with wide eyes filled with terror. And Pitch knew exactly what she saw - what almost everyone saw the same throughout the history and he usually revelled in that. But not now, not with her.

Man in the Moon erased his belief from what made Hazel… well, Hazel. And with it her memories of him were gone, too. Because without Pitch, nothing was left of those three past years that would make any sense at all.

Hazel looked up at him and all she saw was the Boogeyman, the very embodiment of fear itself. She didn’t know why she was there or where this there was, she had no idea why this… shadow was there… She was scared. 

“Hazel,” the shadow called her and she recoiled even more from him, clutching the grass in her hands as if the real cold ground could save her. It wasn’t even her name. 

“Get away from me!” 

And he did pull back and for some reason she didn’t understand he wasn’t menacing that much. Instead she could see him flinching back in pain, deep sorrow mirroring in his golden eyes. But whatever was happening to that… being… every fibre of her body was screaming danger at her. 

“You don’t remember me, do you,” the shadow said sadly. All she got herself to do was to shake her head, her mind trying desperately to find an escape. 

“I’ll go now, if you want me to,” he continued quietly, “but I don’t want to harm you. I would never harm you…” 

She leaned forward a little, finding a bit of courage then: “Then leave me be…” 

And to her surprise he nodded, standing up over her and eventually disappearing in the darkness. And the woman, whose name wasn’t Hazel, trembled finally, confused and lost and feeling like she just barely survived. 

Not that far away, but safely hidden in the darkness and distance, the spirit of fear leaned his back against a tree, shaken to his core by a loss he feared the most in his life. And for a first time in ages and ages he did what not even the Guardians ever made him do, not even in his worst times… He cried. Because for once he really didn’t know what to do and if there was any hope left at all. 

—

She was completely lost. She had survived that night and saw the morning come, but her memories were a blur and she felt like missing a half of herself. Where was she and why? The last thing she could remember was standing on a cliff, not seeing any reason to live. What happened next? After that there was just darkness and a strange feeling, that there should be more. That this darkness was covering voices, people and things, something she couldn’t reach.

Her last memories were terrible, devastating. Her 

home destroyed, her only child gone… But where a striking pain should be, driving her insane, there was just numbing melancholy. As if a long time passed, as if she had already found her peace with what had happened. But when and how? She couldn’t remember.

And then there were those bees. Otherworldly black bees that not only seemed to love to sit in her hair, they seemed to be born there, circling around her in swarms. The worse she felt, the more of them were there, reacting to her thoughts. Did she really get insane? Was she hallucinating things? Would she realise that if it was the truth?

She climbed the hills down, finding a town. It seemed like a good idea to find more people, to make some sense out of all this. But it made things only worse. The bees apparently made everyone around just miserable and yet no one noticed them and no one noticed her. As if she was completely invisible.

Then a person walked through her and then she finally understood. She either got completely mad… Or she wasn’t a part of this world anymore.

So she left the town again, looking for a hideout in the forest. 

Every step of the way, unseen and unheard, but she still knew somehow, a loyal shadow followed her everywhere, wondering if there was still a way to help her.

—

Pitch found her there, in the tranquillity of nature. He had to talk with her, even though he knew it would be difficult. He called her name quietly and she turned around in alarm. But she wasn’t as scared as before. Instead her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Who are you?” 

Her voice was filled with caution and a silent warning. The bees around her ready to heed her command to attack. She might not understand her powers, yet, but they were a natural extension of her will anyway. 

He could feel her fear and he sighed: “I am the Boogeyman. And my name is Pitch Black.”

 She raised an eyebrow and a small smile tugged at her lips: “Isn’t that more of a description than a name?” 

It was her. Somewhere deep inside there had to be her still. 

“Sort of,” he nodded with a shade of smile himself, “that’s how names once worked.” 

It seemed like she deemed his answer… sufficient. The fear was still there, but so was curiosity, now. 

“And why does it seem to be so sad to be you, Pitch Black?” she tilted her head, her hands still controlling her bees. 

“I’ve lost something,” he said quietly, “something precious. I hope you can help me find it.”

“I’ve lost more,” she retorted, startled by the idea that he could want something from her, “and I want nothing from you.”

—

“You don’t sleep well.”

Statement. Not a question.

He appeared one evening in the shade of the trees and she wasn’t that scared anymore. Instead she was starting to be angry.

What should she do to get rid of this scary shadow?

“These will help,” the Boogeyman handed her a glass filled with herbs. 

“Why should I trust a single word you say?” she narrowed her eyes, though taking the glass from him.

Pitch Black gave her a sad smile and said: “That depends. Do you trust yourself?” 

She raised an eyebrow and he continued: “You’ve picked them, not me. Around the solstice.”

The herbs seemed familiar, safe, she knew what kinds of plants those were. But that was all. “You’re telling me I picked those six weeks ago? I don’t remember that. Or why you know it, why you would have them or why you would know anything about my sleeping…” she talked with frustration, “It’s insane.” 

Insane. Fitting word, he thought. 

“Three weeks ago I promised you to go for a night walk in the hills with you. To show you some new tricks… After all, you’ll still have the star maps in your pockets,” he answered quietly, “You took them in the library in the morning that day.” 

Three weeks ago things were fine. More than fine. Until Man in the Moon decided to start another one of his sick games. Three weeks ago we woke up together, we made love and then you left with a for your day and welcomed me with another one in the night, but I won’t describe you that, he thought wearily. Everything that followed was hell. 

“But something… happened there, someone attacked you and took you away from me.” And I’m lost since then, he continued for himself. I’m torn apart because just once in my life I’ve let myself to really care about someone and now, without you, without the real you, I don’t know how to go on.

“Three weeks ago…” she exhaled, “a few days… I lived a completely different life?” 

He simply nodded. Yes, different. The real one. The true one. 

She took a breath and closed her eyes, her need to clear that mess way stronger than her fear for that moment. “I remember my mortal life… and… the grief, guilt and hopelessness…” 

He nodded. “Your son.”

 She’s going through that pain again, at least to some degree, he realised. That was a whole another reason to hate the Moon. 

She didn’t ask how he knew. “The cliff… I had to die there, because then there is just darkness. And then me here, in this existence, days ago.” 

“You’re missing three years between the cliff and now,” he said.

She snapped her eyes open in disbelief: “Three years?”

 ——

In the end she let him do what he asked for: to simply walk with her, to stay near. Whatever really happened to her, Pitch Black seemed to have some answers and she was starting to believe that he was telling the truth, at least mostly. She still didn’t understand why, but for whatever reason the Boogeyman seemed to care.

It was better than being alone. And that undertone of sorrow in his eyes dimmed the fear she felt anyway. He seemed lost in a way, too, and that was something they shared.

He talked to her about a world of spirits and magic and belief and her role in it and though it all made sense, she still wasn’t sure. But if she really got insane, it seemed like quite a neat insanity. A bearable one. 

And there was something about him, like a déjà vu. 

One dark night she shivered, pulling her cloak closer. 

“Afraid of darkness?” he asked with undeniable surprise.

“It’s a strange night,” she shrugged. 

He shot her an unreadable glance and then he said: “Give me your hand.” 

And… she did. Hesitantly, but she did. What he showed her was pure magic. He took her hand in his own, her palm open to the sky. “Focus on light and breath.” A soft sphere of light appeared over their joined hands, shimmering with calming brightness. It wasn’t her powers, nor his - it was a spell. Something that they conjured together and she felt like she could do it even alone, as if she once knew how to do that. 

She watched the light with awe, but there was something more intensive. The warmth of his palm, his touch gentle, new and yet strangely familiar. There was something in that touch he couldn’t hide: an intimity and thirst, soft, but still there. And something in their proximity that made her heart race. 

She pulled her hand back, terrified by sensation she didn’t understand. What was it about this strange shadow next to her? 

“What do you want from me?” she exhaled but didn’t wait for an answer. 

The light disappeared. Pitch didn’t move at all. He let her run away to darkness, feeling nothing but despair and helplessness. He just slowly sat down on the ground, knowing there’s nothing else to do but wait. It was one of the first spells she had ever learnt. She was Hazel and she wasn’t at the same time. 

But… she did come back, eventually. She found him where she left him, patiently waiting for her return. What she felt… it wasn’t him pushing her anywhere she understood in her dark loneliness. It was her own longing, too… For connection, for safety… For something thrilling and exciting and yet calming in a way, hidden in him. 

She knelt down next to him and reached out for his hand. He took it, not without a caution, waiting for her to do or say something.

“Say my name,” she asked, as if looking for anything, for a clue to help her unravel this conundrum. 

‘You’ve never told me,” he answered, knowing she doesn’t remember him giving her her name. And he really didn’t know her first, mortal one.

She shook her head: “The one you know.” 

He looked at her with wide eyes, his fingers tightening their grip around hers. For that moment the intimidating aura of the Boogeyman was gone and he simply seemed vulnerable and hopeful and scared, all at once. His other hand reached out, cupping her face with unexpected tenderness and she shivered under that touch, but not because of fear. 

“Hazel,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes, letting the sensations come to her. The sound of that name, the name that had a history and meant something, though she didn’t know what, the sound of his voice, that called her with desperate longing, the warmth of his touch on her cheek… “Say it again,” she said and he obeyed.

And though she remembered nothing, she understood and believed at least something. But still, she had to be  sure.

Absolutely sure.

She simply had to know.

“Kiss me.”

Pitch’s breath hitched in his throat as that could be the key or an absolutely terrible idea and there was no way to find out but to try it. And so he leaned closer and kissed her.

It was heartbreaking because he remembered the warmth between them before and now, he could feel her thrill and curiosity, but that was all. She was testing a hypothesis, that was it. And he longed for much, much more.

As they broke the kiss, Hazel reached her hand, caressing his hair and looking at him with new understanding: “You really love me, don’t you.”

“I do.”

“And I… I’ve loved you, haven’t I.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, grateful for her realisation and yet shaken by the distance in her voice: “Yes, Hazel. You have.”

—

The days were flowing by and they never returned to it. It felt like a strange silent truce, like an interplay. 

The Boogeyman was always close enough, she knew that he was never further but a call away. And every day he was there to walk with her, to talk with her, to share a part of the day with her. Never too far - and never too close.

And Hazel simply didn’t know what to do with that new truth she had discovered. So he loved her and she loved him once. Fine. But that brought more questions than answers, really. Was it real and healthy, what they had? Or was it different, something darker? Was the story about her lost memories true or was it only supposed to look that way, to give them a fresh start on something that didn’t go well first? She wasn’t scared of him anymore, not really. But she was suspicious and wary. 

The fact that she couldn’t tell the truth from a lie was grating her nerves to no end. There was nothing left of her, only fragments not making any sense together. She was a spirit of despair, that was clearly real - but was she there for good or for evil? Should she listen to Pitch Black when he talked about her powers or should she be afraid of manipulation?

She felt something for him, or at least once she did. That was undeniable. But what kind of love was that, if it was love at all?

And what happened to her in the past that the losses of her mortal life weren’t as painful as they should be? What did she lose or gain of herself? 

The Boogeyman was treating her decently and didn’t give her any more fuel to her suspicions. But he was an ancient magical being - he could be a tremendous liar, for all she knew.

Hazel - and that was the only thing she was certain about, this name felt fitting for this life - was lost and day by day her inner pain only grew. Not knowing who she was meant that she didn’t know what direction she should take. The only soul giving her any answers was unreliable and her feelings towards him ambivalent, to say the least. 

She felt fragmented, spilled into pieces, unable to collect them. Day by day a need grew within her, a need to make a decision. To risk and choose what to believe.

She had to decide what and who she was.

—

There were dozens of proofs that he wasn’t lying, not completely. They had to live together for some time. When they walked together, their pace was just right, he never walked too fast or too slow. He was at ease with her bees, knowing more about them than she did. And sometimes, in lighter moments, he seemed to forget of her condition for a while. Like when he started to tell her a story and then stopped himself without a second thought: “I’m repeating myself.” That made her smile: “No, not to me. Not now.” Such a thing would be hard to lie about. It looked more like he would love to forget, that he would love the things to be  the way they were.

However even those moments of levity only add to her ache. Because if they really used to have something genuine, then it meant that her loss was only that more profound… —

One evening the small fire was crackling between them and Hazel watched him thoughtfully. Something new was creeping out in her, a seed of decision. 

The shadows grew longer and Pitch stood up, getting ready to leave. His duty was calling.

“Have a good night, Hazel,” he nodded at her. It was painful to leave her here every day and yet it was something he was looking for. To leave meant a relief from being with her and not being with her at the same time.

But tonight she raised as well, closing the distance between them in a few steps. She was tired. Tired of doubts, tired of questions without answers and tired of being lost. And too broken to collect herself alone.

“You said you won’t ever hurt me.”

He looked at her, startled.What was happening with her?

“I won’t.”

She looked him in the eyes and what he could see in hers was pure despair… and resignation.

“Then lead the way,” she said silently, “I can’t drag this game out any longer…”

It felt like madness. To give in, to simply do that one more step, resting her forehead against his chest, just not to be lost alone anymore. 

To let the Boogeyman’s darkness dictate the new rules of her life. (How was she supposed to know she had done that once before, on that cliff?) Might he be the threat, he at least offered some certainty.

 She didn't trust him, but she was broken enough to give up.

To his infinite terror Pitch Black realised that he will have to fight both for her memories and her freedom from his own power. 

Because the darkness that defined him so well wasn’t anything metaphorical. It was the manipulative, commanding nature of fear itself and he could feel it instantly. The relief that she was here, finally, mixed with the urge to simply keep her there. The blurred line and easy slip between belonging with and belonging to. 

It was tempting and it would be incredibly easy to secure her from leaving by twisting their once equal bond to something way darker. After all, they had always walked on the edge there. Somewhere in the undercurrent she did love him for leading the way and for the strength she could rely on. And he loved her for her devotion, finding infinite relief in knowing she’ll always be there - but it all used to be subtle, hidden under the surface. It used to serve them for the better, strengthening their love. It wasn’t the main force to bind them. 

With an icy clarity he thought that Man in the Moon supposed this to happen, that was why he did what he did to her. He was sure the creature of darkness the Boogeyman was would never be able resist this chance to claim her broken soul. Not when he wanted her as much as he did. 

That much of a monster he saw in Pitch. 

That was a trap he relied on. 

“More description than a name.” Indeed, Pitch thought, realising the cruel irony of the whole situation. Once he could easily rely on her strength to keep things in line - but now she was so exhausted that she couldn't resist. He despised himself even for knowing that, when he held her.

If you want me to be Hazel, then I’ll be Hazel, she thought wearily. I’ll be whatever you want, whatever you are telling me I should be… just if I can hide myself here with you. Just if I can let you solve some of that chaos within me, because I lack the strength. 

She expected the dark, fearsome spirit to take over her fragmented, broken life with ease and authority. She was ready to let him, to yield. She wasn’t prepared for him to hold her firmly but as if he was afraid that she was too fragile. It was surprising to hear his cautious, silent, sincere words, when he answered her:

“I can’t lead the way for you… But we’ll find it together, Hazel. We always do.”

She didn’t think of weakness though. It was the first time when she let herself truly believe that everything he said was true. That he genuinely cared and really loved her and there was nothing else but that.

—

He stayed until she fell asleep and then he left anyway. It was necessary. It was a healthy thing to do.

He was striding through the night, the tension within him rising with every step. She seemed relieved somehow and yet he knew that he was leaving her in the middle of the turmoil of her situation. It was just bearable when he was by her side, but the pain didn’t vanish.

And he knew that he had the power to let it vanish.

That pain could take her away in the end. There was no guarantee, he could lose her for good.

And he had the power to keep her by his side.

He could probably tell himself tales of protecting her, of keeping her safe. Maybe he could believe them one day even. And she would be safe and at peace… and stripped of the right of choice.

The darkness kept whispering, but Pitch had an efficient way of a reality check. She might have been broken and weak, but there was another Hazel, his Hazel, living in his head, that he could talk to. What would she say or do, if she knew?

“I would tear you apart, that’s what I’d do,” he could almost hear her chuckle, “obedient and docile, that’s not what I would choose, is it?”

“Probably not,” he had to admit, “though you once did. At that cliff.”

“And you still let me decide there. You didn’t force my hand. I knew everything I needed to know.”

He sighed. That was true. He didn’t manipulate her there, not in such a way. But then… He didn’t really care about her pain. And he wasn’t afraid to lose her. He was desperate then, but not in the same way as now.

“What if you won’t remember, Hazel?,” he asked quietly, “what if you’ll stay in this shattered, painful state, what if you’ll… never love me again? What if we won’t be able to find what we had again, as everything is so different?”

He could almost see her long gaze before she would smile: “And what are you missing to charm me again, my love? Our slightly heartless deal, us being caught in two wars at once, me half insane of grief?”

“You’ll be just fine, Pitch. And I’ll be fine, too. I’ve survived worse.”

The tide of darkness was gone, he could breathe in more freely. Just the sorrow was harder to cast away. 

“I miss you, Hazel.”

“I’m just over there, by the fire, Pitch. Unwell, but it’s still me. I didn’t go anywhere. You only need to look better.”

He had to look back over the shoulder, where the dying flames flickered among the trees. For you, he thought. I’ll try to see the real you again.

(unfinished)

[stormblessed358]

Let's Try Something New

So I was going through all the stories I've written for my frankly impractical number of OCs I have, and thinking that I've done all this work only for them to sit defunct in my Google drive. Then I remembered I have a very inactive account on Tumblr. For the probably two of you who will see this: here are my three most recent brainchildren having a short little moment together.

“Morning, Tevvie,” Dasha said.

“Really? Doesn’t feel like it,” Tev groaned. Their hair looked like a bird had tried to build a nest out of it. They had been trying to grow it out. It had made good progress - down to their shoulders in the back, now - but they had no idea how to take care of it. They rubbed their eyes blearily, and Dasha picked his way over Elijah’s bedroll toward them.

“Is it okay if I touch your hair? It’s long enough that I think I can braid it, if you want me to. It will keep it out of your eyes.” Dasha held up a comb, showing Tev that his other hand was empty.

Tev stared at the ground blankly for a while. Dasha waited. They looked up, slowly, and said, “You actually want an answer to that?”

“Yes,” said Dasha.

“So I’m allowed to say no?” Tev said.

“Yes, you are,” Dasha said. He grabbed his backpack and started to put the comb away.

“Wait!” Tev said, reaching out. They stopped themself, and pulled their hand back awkwardly, rubbing the stump of their other arm. “I would like it braided, actually. I was just asking. Making sure I had a choice and stuff. Can you braid it?”

Dasha pulled the comb back out and settled behind them. “Of course I can. Don’t worry. Want to try something new?”

“New?” Tev perked up a bit. “Sure. Don’t do anything ugly.”

Dasha handed them some flatbread from their rations and said, “I never do ugly. I’m not Elijah.”

“Ouch,” came the clear reply from Elijah’s bedroll. Evidently, he was not as asleep as he pretended to be. Dasha laughed, and started the first braid.

Tev’s hair was wavy and coarse, very thick, and it held its shape well. Dasha hummed appreciatively as he easily parted it into clean rows. He’d had plenty of practice on his younger siblings, so while it had less curl than theirs did, the motion was still familiar enough that he made good progress.

“You remind me of Ama,” he remarked absently.

“Who?” Tev asked.

“My sister. She was about your size when I left,” Dasha said.

“Hm.” Tev made a humming noise deep in their throat, to show they were listening.

“I’m number three of a dozen, you know. Twelve is a lucky number to have.” Dasha paused, realizing something. “Well, not anymore, I guess.”

“Death in the family?” Tev guessed.

“I don’t count anymore. I suppose I can’t even call Ama my sister, now that I think about it.” Dasha looked down and redoubled his focus on braiding.

Tev huffed. “What, they disown you or something?”

“Yes,” Dasha said quietly.

Silence hung between them for a time.

“I’m sorry,” Tev said.

“It’s okay,” said Dasha. “It’s all right because I know they’re alive and well and happy back home. That’s a blessing I’m really lucky to have.”

With a gentle tie-off, Dasha finished the last braid. He pulled over Elijah’s bag and pulled out the pocket mirror in the front. Elijah sat up and glared at him for a second, then flopped back down and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Ready to see?” Dasha asked.

“Sure. As long as I don’t hate it,” Tev said, reaching up for the mirror.

They held it up, framing their face in the bottom and Dasha’s smile in the top. Dasha had braided it into neat little cornrows that zig-zagged back and forth next to each other. It wasn’t perfect, as some strands were shorter than others and he hadn’t been able to tuck all of them in, but the shape was crisp. Tev turned their head back and forth, expression blank. They dropped the mirror and hid their face in their hand.

“Oh! I’m sorry! You don’t like it! I can take it out, try again!” Dasha panicked, unsure what to do.

Tev turned around and pulled Dasha into a hug. Their face pressed against his tunic, their arm wrapping around his waist.

“No,” they said. Their voice was muffled, and strained, like they were going to cry. “It’s amazing. That was amazing. Thank you.”

Dasha put his arms around Tev and gave them a squeeze. Elijah sat up again, smiled a little, and looked out at the forest around them.

“I’m glad you like it,” Dasha said.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

7.6.24 Saturday

1:32 am

I feel bad my first on-line journal here was being hacked and erased... It was started year 2013....I feel bad... Then, someone just copied me and removed me again and again...

My adoptive parent's taught me to avoid people who copied me and removed me being first that I was really the first one who used this tumbler.

All those details were important to me...

1:48 am

Still,have windblow...

I got it... Thank God, coz the first account was also important to me... I planned to print it out as my memories as my personal journal...

There are people who are bad angels... People who can't be fair on a particular thing.

1:59 am

Still,have windblow...

Anyways, done doing live in Tagged, I just hope and pray my voice synced in....

I feel frustrated... I'm just being real there are wicked people... But there are fair people as well and hoping those are my angels...

I still feel frustrated in life... I wanna get my cousin-white that is closer to reality and I feel irritated...

Angels and guys, there are group of wicked people like removing you on a scene and stealing your stuff and some of your style and worst of all stealing your bf's on purpose to steal. Those are wicked people and irreligious!

On other angle, I need to pay my loans and I wanna buy Starbucks everyday... I want some vanities... I still feel fat,ugly and wrinkled....

8:47 am

Still,have windblow...

Whew! Done, washing my baby John's floormats... It is a bit hellish to do it manually... So, it is very important that my cousin white should respect me on having John in our life but we need to think of something modern on how to clean John's floormats...

I'm on a manual and not that my ideal life here with my 2 Uncle's....I don't have a car... But I guess it is part of it washing John's floormats manually? But I need a wash-sink that is much more comfortable??? I think so...

10:48 am

Still,have windblow...

I love dreaming and wishing angels... We have so many problems here but beauty still matters....

Actually,this is just a dirty kitchen to be considered but Filipino's we don't practice it yet but this can be a good simple kitchen though I love glass house...

Simple,neat and clean...

But this is a good dream... I love the sun-glass...

11:07 am

Still,have windblow...

Given a chance here, I wanted a dog wash spot, where I can wash John's floormats having a good poise or on a standing position... It will be outside or a dog's wash room...

Outside faucet for dirty floormats or whatever...

12:40 noon

Still,have windblow...

It is so depressing being flatten this way... I had have dreams to have a pretty house where everything are on a good set-up... It was really hypnotizing to play and dream in Pinterest...

Argh! I need money and job and still want vanities and I want a coffee machine as well...

3:34 pm

Uncle DD and Aunt Karen are here again since this am or yesterday... I was just really wondering, it seems Uncle DD didn't actually feed Neko or probably they are all sleeping???

3:53 pm

Still,have windblow...

I'm not happy being this way angels... I really wanna do nose perfection it is not because I'm insecure....Don't take it that way... They took my younger face angels... My face is now sagging and I'm on my 40's single and bitterish... It is for my self-esteem or at least a botox first, I hate having this "deep smile lines"...

Plus, thinking of money... How will I pay my loans... But will do my medical on Monday...

I wanna gain uppish friends and meet good people along the way...

I can't meet my old friends coz I don't know where are they? Plus, I have the complexities that I'm not ready... But if they need to say sorry then I need to hear it...

I wanna get my cousin-white... I want the smart or google glasses. I wanna work and earn and better life. I want the one which I can watch....I feel self-pity... I don't wannna die this way...

4:27 pm

I feel self-pity.... I want vanities and some stuff angels...

I need a job, I know.... I want to progress... I'm having complex. I really wanna do a nose perfection or botox... I feel self-pity 17 years,they just want me to fade for nothing...

4:35 pm

I don't know... I want a child but I'm thinking now if there is a wealthy and handsome man and a woman who can carry my child and child of my handsome bf2x aside from my cousin-white...

If someone can give birth for me and my bf2x will pay for it but it is my child and my child of my handsome wealthy bf. This is my dream, I wanna have that kind of image where I will be modern and science...

Like can we do that?

I can be a Barbie mom... Of course I can have sex forever and work and happy and waiting for my child as he or she goes out from the other vagina'z... It is my dream image...

A funny thought...

4:47 pm

Still,have windblow...

I'm fading for nothing here... Self-pitying since 2007... No achievement...

I wanna have a child but then I'm not yet fulfilled... I feel my time and life will be nothing if I can't have a child but at the same time, I was supposed to be spoiled... If given a chance I love modern science...

I wanna find love... I wanna have success for myself that I can buy Starbucks everyday...

5pm

Still,have windblow...

I really do feel self-pity... I will be working soon but hoping for a success this time coz I feel self-pity... I feel self-pity...

6:15 pm

Still,have windblow...

I really wanna have my cousin-white... I wanna get him...

I wanna get some progress in job as well...

I hope my cousin-white will support me on doing my nose perfection, in time...

7:56 pm

Hmm... Strange character of Uncle DD... They are not feeding Neko until now...

8:05 pm

My friend is not in their house... I need a toothpaste angels... Ely is the one who is backing me up... But I still have 1 sachet here...

Whew! I don't wanna lose my teeth for not brushing it... hahaha... Worst to have a bad breath hahaha... I need a toothpaste...

Chimbi told me Ely went to the party...

I need some toiletries here angels..

8:19 pm

If Uncle DD can kill Neko, he can kill us here angels... It is easy for him to do that.... A simple way to analyze a person's character.

8:56 pm

I'm fixing my stuff, I feel bad if someone can access my door and getting stuff from me and passing it on someone without my approval... I feel bad... The leggings as well my channel style leggings is missing...

I don't wanna sell my stuff coz I love material stuff coz I'm religious...

I'm not gonna sell my stuff it is better to sing to survive coz I love acquiring stuff...

[boardwalkindia]

Essential Checklist for your Office Interior Design

After our homes, offices are where we spend the most time indoors. Therefore, it's crucial that they are attractive, useful, and healthy! Would you like to learn how to make your office space more appealing? Then look over our essential office interior design checklist!

Office Interior Design

Enhancing productivity, encouraging creativity, and fostering a positive office space atmosphere are all facilitated by creating a well-designed and practical office space. An office interior design checklist is essential whether you're considering a redesign or creating a new layout because it:

Make sure you add the necessary components for a comfortable and productive work environment.

Enhances effectiveness and reduces waiting.

Allows you to concentrate on emphasising your brand's style and guiding principles through the office interior design.

Serves as a platform for communicating with stakeholders, through which you may focus down on what you require for your office.

Maintains continuity and quality across the interior design of your office.

Delivers a well-designed workspace that enhances productivity and employee satisfaction.

Here are 7 essential tips for your office interior design:

Opt for Inspiring Interior Design for Your Office Space

Choose Comfortable and Healthy Furniture

Plan for Plenty of Storage

Neat Desks Office Interior Design Ideas

Bring in Greenery

Choose Office Interior Design Colors Wisely for Your

Fill the Office with Natural Light

1. Opt for Inspiring Interior Design for Your Office Space

Make sure your office interior design is exciting and energising, whether this is keeping the area serene and uncluttered or choosing a strong wall colour and lots of accessories. In actuality, the top modern office interior design tip is to create an inspiring environment. People are happier and more productive when they work in an inspirational environment!

2. Choose Comfortable and Healthy Furniture

Comfort is important because people spend a lot of time at work. In particular, chairs must provide enough back support and be pain-free. This is why the greatest option for office interior design is still adjustable seats. And gone are the days when adjustable chairs were big and ugly. There are many lovely office chairs available today that will go with any kind of office furniture.

3. Plan for Plenty of Storage

Any office space needs plenty of storage. To hide the majority of the clutter behind closed doors and give the room that clean, designer look you see in magazines, closed storage is especially important. The ability to organise is also crucial. Maintaining order in a space is much simpler when everything has a place. Office interior design can fix all the problems of storage by providing you with better storage options.

4. Neat Desks Office Interior Design Ideas

Here is another reason why closed storage is important. Studies have shown that having an uncluttered work surface fosters productivity. So it’s better to leave just what is immediately needed on the desk and avoid piles of stuff. And if some things still need to be stored on the desk, closed boxes and containers will help to hide the clutter, leaving the space free and inspiring!

5. Bring in Greenery

Flowers and plants are a nice idea at all times for office interior design. They instantly spark new life into a room, offer a splash of colour, improve the welcomingness of the office, and even have beneficial effects on our brains. Did you know that some plants can also enhance the quality of the air, as if all of this weren't enough?

6. Choose Office Interior Design Colors Wisely for Your

Colours do affect our brains, that much is true. Some are interesting, some are peaceful, and some may even end up being bothersome! Therefore, the colour scheme of a workplace should be thoroughly considered before being chosen.

7. Fill the Office with Natural Light

The quality of the workspace is a factor that is becoming more and more important in office interior design. And a top priority is using natural light! Everyone should have access to natural light since it has numerous positive effects on both health and mood. Large floor-to-ceiling windows are a popular (and beautiful) way to get natural light into offices these days. Another technique to let light travel through space and make the most of the sun is via translucent internal walls. Source Link : https://boardwalkindia.com/essential-checklist-for-your-office-interior-design/

[apollonouta]

These are all presumably from 2015 right before mama died, when i was on the fence about pursuing art as a career. I had already dropped out of online art school and was too burnt out to continue because i was still on probation

But I remember thinking "i'm getting really good. I have a defined style, one that i can replicate easily" and my mindset was very ego driven. I was around 19-20ish, which meant half my peers were graduating from art school, and the other half were around the same level as me. So i felt like because i was upper mediocre, that i was doing pretty well.

I still think of myself on the better end of decent esp when im actually trying, but back then, and even in more recent years, i realized just how proud i was of very ordinary art. When youre offline and you can draw more than stick figures people get a little weird about it. Like youre showing off or something.

But then i compare myself to the literal professionals i used to hang around, and even the average fanartist, and i realized while I was perfecting the box I wanted to live in, bc it was so comfortable, other people who used to be technically behind me started to rapidly excel as they gained more practical understanding and experiemented.

Like even now i dont think this art is ugly. Compared to my current art, its very clean, uniform, with minimal sketching. My lines, because they were pencil, were confident. I pressed down hard, because I wasn't great at erasing mistakes. The anatomy is drawn with lots of the foundational shapes, even though theres no weight, or gravity, and everything slants to the right. There was a LOT of effort put into getting it right the first time.

My art today has layers of redraws after redraws, taped ontop of each other. I sketch quickly, without a care about the actual aesthetics. It matters more to me if its funny, than pretty. I feel like ive lost my own original voice in lieu of adopting another one. When i first started drawing in this style i only had 75% grip strength post partum, so i had to reteach myself how to draw from the ground up. It took a long time, and i got back onto writing instead because writing didn't tax my hands as much.

In 2019-21, i tried to keep my previous art style for the most part, but it didnt end up working out. A little after this i went through a period of extremely detailed, semi realistic art. This still had its pitfalls bc i hadnt spent enough time practicing anatomy. I had focused almost entirely on the expressions

The expressions were what mattered most to me, and in a way they still do. The sad thing is, im not really sure if i'll ever get back to the point where i had the patience to redraw something 7-8x just to make it look decent. These days if it takes more than 5 minutes i just give up. I think its bc of how much more drawing costs than compared to before. Just sititng up for 15 minutes causes my back to ache. I get headaches from thinking too hard, and gesture drawings just hurt my wrist and elbow, esp if i hold the pencil correctly. Art as a hobby is a lot more physically demanding as I get older, so it being messy makes sense for me.

The challenge is to figure out a way to both grow as an artist, keep my confidence, but also ensure my body stays comfortable. I could just passively watch videos, theres many classes uploaded on youtube and itd probably be easier, but less effective than drawing along with it. I dunno. I dont wanna say disability impacted my art significantly, or it threw off the trajectory of my growth bc it didnt. It had an impact for sure, but i think what happened is it wasn't the way i needed to survive. I needed to cultivate administrative and resource gathering skills, rather than drawing or learning a language. I needed to spend years learning other, more practical things. As much as art mightve saved my soul, learning how to search for the nearest food bank got me a full belly.

So i guess i dont feel too bad, but its neat and definitely was worth sitting down and evaluating. Im happy with how things turned out because i still have so much more time, and as things get easier, and i finish school and accomplish more of my goals, ill have the time to really sit down and flourish again.

Looking at my old art is super interesting, bc i was pretty decent in my comfort zone. My art style was generic, but very easy to keep on model. I sketched only in pencil, never colored or inked anything. The poses i drew were simple, and rarely more than a bust. I never did anything dynamic and at the time i used to look down on people who experimented especially when it looked bad. I was very proud of my art, i would do gesture drawings a lot too, and would half heartedly study art theory even tho i knew I wasn't cut out for the creative field.

And looking back on it, it actually looks nice for the most part. It's all very clean, very small, as if i were afraid to take up the whole page. All of it was drawn by someone with a scarcity mindset and too afraid to actually get messy.

These days i sketch in pen, and my art is very, very messy. I value drawing quickly over taking my time. I sometimes venture out of my comfort zone, but im taking it slowly. I'm almost 30 and this year alone I've lined and colored more than i ever have before. My anatomy isn't as good, my hands are significantly shakier, i can't draw as long nor can i sit up like i used to.

Back when I was drawing like that, before, art was my survival method. I didn't take unnecessary risks, i was combative against anything that i didn't think was perfection, i spent a lot of time rigidly avoiding rules just to make up my own that i wouldn't stray from.

I would say now, because of my experimentation and recovery, I'm probably a better artist. Or maybe i would say i love to draw more. Id gone to art school and burnt out, and honestly id love to go back but just for the sake of learning and trying rather than earning a grade. But i remember for several years esp when i had to wear braces on my wrists, i hated everything about my art and myself l, and honestly it shows.

I still have many, many insecurities about my art, and i think that's the natural consequence of wanting to create at all. I just know I'm happier these days, and the desire to improve is coming from a good place rather than this weird superiority complex where i thought i was better than everyone got deciding not to compete or challenge myself at all.

[chainelunaire]

random lov headcanons

pt. 2

shigaraki

- he knows and remembers birthday date of every lov member, even dabi’s. he won’t give a present, of course, but he’ll say something like “happy birhday, glad you didn’t die yet” .

- doesn’t like listening to music, but likes to occasionally observe toga playing guitar or dabi singing. 

- he’s fine with lov members breaking into his room at any time. he’s the one who’s sort of a comforting figure, when somebody’s off. he’ll let this person stay in his room, doing whatever (within reason) while doing his own business. he will listen to a person’s ramblings and say his thoughts on a matter from time to time.

- he collects every item somebody who he cares about have given to him. his collection includes toga’s diy cards and paper flowers, kurogiri’s books, spinner’s CD’s and collection of old games. 

- likes to write. it’s something he considers unserious, and he does this mainly to relax, but it’s something dear to him.

- his room is the messiest of all lov members. 

- he’s very forgiving, but only to the ones he cares about. it’s subconscious thing, and it’s something everyone around him is very aware of. he’ll be very understanding if a person just say they’re sorry and it won’t happen again. he’ll probably be a little shit about it, but still let them slide with a lot. 

- he likes to lay his head on any lov member thighs and just sleep while they’re playing with his hair or reading. it’s mainly toga, twice or spinner, but sometimes it’s dabi or kurogiri he’s lying next to, while chatting about whatever. he’s affectionate like that.

- he’s actually very intilligent, even if he’s not great with self-discipline, he’s very patient while learning or explaining something. he’s the best choice to go to if you don’t get something, he’ll explain it in great detail and in very simple manner.

- lets toga paint his nails and even do his makeup. he doesn’t care about that, so he’s fine with it, since she’s just radiating with joy.

- hates movie nights with passion, but likes to go for a long (like, really long, for a few hours) walk at night. sometimes he does this alone, sometimes dabi or compress make him company.

dabi

- likes to go out every once in a while and just relax, listening to music while drinking his beer. he’s usually doing this alone, now he’s doing this with twice and compress. 

- he’s almost always hungry. he’s never full. values food a lot, since he was homeless for a very long time. that’s also a reason he’s very generous with homeless people on streets. he’s doing fine these days, he can afford that, so he doesn’t mind sharing his money. he knows the struggle first hand.

- has a very nice deep voice, he just likes to sing. was very careful with that in the beginning, now he doesn’t care. he sings almost wherever. no one really complains, since he sings beautifully.

- likes to read anything space-related, was in that team since he was a kid. knows a lot about stars and all that jazz, enjoys observing them in peace. it’s very relaxing to him. it’s also one of the few topics he’s kind of talkative on.

- sometimes he wears glasses. they’re not the best for him, he just stole it, but it’s better than nothing, since without them he’s practically blind. with glasses on, he looks bizzarre and strangely attractive at the same time. if someone comments on it, he will immediately remove them while saying he doesn’t want to see these ugly faces anymore.

- is a clean freak. everything needs to be clean. it’s just kind of necessity with his open wounds, and by himself he just likes everything to be neat.

- sometimes toga convinces him to do her hair. it happens every once in a blue moon, but he does great hairstyles on her.

- knows how to sew, so he can actually help with repairing clothes, if asked well enough.

- he loves kids. he doesn’t even try to hide it, he’s just the best around them, so much more gentle and funny and outgoing. there were a lot of orphans near their old hideout, he liked to play football with them. he likes kids because they don’t usually lie as much as adults, they’re blunt and fearless in that sense.

- learnt to play piano a bit by just observing compress doing it.

- he’s very bad with electronic devices, he breaks everything he touches. shigaraki teases him about it a lot, saying he must’ve possessed his quirk.

- his eyes glow in the dark. he also sees better in complete darkness than in a daylight. it doesn’t hurt his eyes that much.

[basicallyahedgehog]

georgie!! 11&12 + drarry if you please... :>

Hello!

I’m going to answer these together because I think that for Drarry the two are intertwined.

ETA: CW for mention of dissociation, vague reference to eating disorders

What do they hide from each other, and what changes when things start to get serious?

After everything both Harry and Draco went through as children and teenagers, and think they both have some pretty deep-seated insecurities. And part of that is this notion that they have to hide the “ugly” parts of themselves in order to be loved. And while the exact specifics might be different, in practice it looks the same.

They hide nightmares and anxiety/PTSD triggers and the little quirks that come from living through a war. After seventeen years with the Dursley’s Harry’s convinced that he needs to be Neat and Organised to be loved. He avoids having Draco over spontaneously because his flat needs to be Perfect. He pretends to like every food and every restaurant Draco takes him to, because being picky gets you ignored, even if the scent memories take him back to Privet Drive and the crowds make him want to crawl into his own skin.

Similarly, Draco was raised with this notion of always appearing out together and in control. There’s a whole section of his wardrobe that Harry doesn’t see for months because Draco thinks Harry will assume he isn’t putting in an effort if he dresses more casually. Draco doesn’t have nightmares so much as periods of dissociation during the day, returning to the dark days of the war if his mind isn’t fully occupied. So he drags Harry to parks and museums and concerts, scared of what will happen if they stay in one place for too long.

And then one night they’re both exhausted and Harry ends up staying at Draco’s overnight. Draco wakes to Harry’s screams, holding him until the shakes subside following the nightmare. In the morning Harry roots around for clothes to borrow and finds Draco’s collection of soft sweaters, immediately selecting a pale blue one to bundle Draco into as they walk to get coffee.

Slowly, slowly the layers get stripped away. Harry observes that Draco is less likely to dissociate if they are touching, and from then on always tries to keep contact between them. A palm on his back, fingers interlaced, ankles hooked together under the table. Because of this Draco notices how Harry’s hands start to tremble in busy spaces, and steers him into forgotten alleyways and rolling hills instead.

When they move in together there is a big discussion about what they want their home to look and feel like, and division of chores. Harry still sometimes forgets to eat and flinches from the fry pan on the worst days, so Draco learns to cook, loving Harry with every strand of spaghetti, every grain of rice, every loaf of bread. Harry finds that he actually likes cleaning if it’s for someone he loves. Ron jokingly buys him a frilly apron and Draco laughed so hard he cried. So Harry puts it on every Sunday morning as he vacuums and dusts, humming under his breath until he is inevitably crowded against a wall by arms that smell of fresh cookies.

At night Draco holds Harry close, soothing him with soft endearments when the nightmares come. It isn’t every night anymore, not now that Harry’s mind knows that he is safe and loved. But they do come, sometimes, and he knows not to fight the arms around him, arms that anchor him to the world and trace patterns on his back until his breathing slows. And on the nights where he can’t get back to sleep Draco wraps them both in Weasley sweaters and the quilt his mother made them and they sit on the balcony and trace patterns among the stars, secure in the knowledge that they are both loved wholeheartedly for all that they are.

Send me ship asks

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

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

[fanmoose12]

a little something for @bruciesnat :) i know i've promised it like a lifetime ago, sorry for the delay! oh, and i decided to combine it with a prompt i also received a long while ago <3

Mike doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't understand how he agreed to it, can't comprehend why Erwin would make him do it. Mike doesn't know what he had done to deserve this- this punishment.

He's- he's a good man. An honest one. He serves to ensure the future of humanity, he risks his life to give others a better one.

He's good at it too, he's excellent at fighting and slashing and scouting. He was the best one at it, before- before the annoying midget came.

The same annoying midget, who is insanely strong and easily irritated. The same annoying midget, who has a crush on their adorable Hange. Hange, who Mike has to seduce to test Erwin's theory that Levi, insanely strong, easily irritated Levi, truly has a crush on their Hange.

Mike swallows heavily as he sits next to Hange, just a little too close as Erwin instructed. He smells that it won't end well.

He cringes, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Mike likes Hange, a lot actually. Sometimes he feels like they're siblings that were torn apart by some bigger entity. So yeah, he likes Hange. But definitely not like that.

But, oh well, anything for the cause, right?

"Hey, Hans," he murmurs, adopting his most seducting tone. He hopes that his smile is charming enough to captivate their dear scientist. "Are you free tonight? I have two tickets to the theater perfomance," he leans in closer, lowering his voice to what could probably (Mike is an eternal optimist!) be called an enticing whisper. "They're showing the creation of the the Walls tonight."

Somewhere on his periphery, Mike can see a swift dark shadow that oozes the smell of detergent. That shadow, it grows closer, its aura becoming more menacing.

Mike can only hope that if Levi attempts to kill him, Erwin would intervene.

Although... knowing Erwin, he'd just write Mike's death off as a necessary sacrifice.

He takes his hand off Hange. The shadow retreats a few steps back.

"Sorry, Mike," Hange shrugs with a small, apologizing smile. "I showed that play to Levi a few weeks ago. I had my fill of religious propaganda for now. But if you're looking for someone to accompany you," she winks and turns around. Mike's heart sinks. "Levi really liked going to the theatre! He'll be happy to tag along, right, Levi?"

Mike meets Levi's eyes, and sees nothing but desire for murder inside.

Mike quickly scrambles to his feet. "You know, I'll just ask Gelgar to go with me. I'm sure he doesn't have anything better to do."

And they can get wasted afterwards. Mike really needs that after this conversation.

Just as he retreats, Levi takes his place, sitting down next to Hange, also just a little too close.

The mission had failed spectacularly, but, Mike consoles himself, at least he learned that Hange and Levi went to theatre together. And sometimes intel is more important than the victory, right?

Ah, if only Erwin would share his opinion on that.

***

Erwin's second attempt is even worse than the first one, but, at least, this time it doesn't directly involve Mike. Still, he's an unwilling spectator to it, and, just as the last time, he doesn't like where all of this is going.

He already feels bad for the poor guy Erwin hired to hit on Hange during the annual military ball. Where did Erwin get the money - did he take them from the Corps' funds or his own allowance, Mike doesn't know, and, frankly, he isn't sure which option is more disturbing.

At least, the actor is handsome, Mike doesn't know if Hange would like him, he doesn't know if she has a type, and if she does, he hopes it's not annoying midgets, but the guy is handsome, there is no denying that.

Hange has cleaned up fairly well too, the white suit looks excellent on her, bringing out all of her best assets, demonstrating her wide hips and lean, long legs. The hair, gathered in a neat bun, shows her long, gorgeous neck, and the light make-up make her even more gorgeous than usual.

When she and Erwin walked through the front door - him in his blue suit and Hange in her white, symbolising their Wings of Freedom, everyone had their breath taken away.

Even Mike was a little shocked to see Hange dressed up like this, and Levi, who stood right next to him, was completely blown away, staring at Hange with wide-eyed, lovestruck look.

Thanks to Levi's ridiculous expression, Mike now understands why Erwin goes to such length to bring their resident weirdos together. It is delightful to watch Levi behave like that, and Mike longs to see more of this side of him.

Soon after Hange and Erwin make their grand entrance, their guy makes the first move.

He approaches Hange, his eyes bright and smile so charming it makes Mike envious that Hange is at the receiving end of it. He kisses her hand, whispers something in her ear.

"He praises her recent experiment. I thought it was a good place to start," Erwin explains quietly to him.

"Ah," Mike nods. So Erwin thought every detail through? Not surprising at all. "Think this would have an effect on Levi?"

"It already does," Erwin says, pointing to a furious cloud of black hair and suit that is approaching them at a rapid speed.

"Has four-eyes lost all shame?" Levi practically growls, his eyes throwing flames. "Is she seriously flirting with a fucker from the MP?"

"He's not a soldier," Mike answers, reciting a legend Erwin created. "He's actually a wealthy merchant from the South. Heard he sells apples to the King himself."

"And since when Hange is interested in someone like him," Levi crosses hands on his chest, his glare turning even darker, as Erwin's actor takes Hange by the hand and leads her to the dance floor.

"You know, you can ask Hange to a dance," Erwin advices with a pleased smile. "Then she won't be able to flirt with others."

Levi scoffs. "I would rather fight a horde of titans than dance with stinky four-eyes."

Maria, Rose and Sina, Mike thinks. They're worse than children.

"Hange has taken a bath before coming here," he tells Levi.

Levi rolls his eyes. "And now she looks even more awful than usual."

Mike shares a look with Erwin. Does Levi prefer usual Hange, when she doesn't bath for days and her eyes water from the lack of sleep? It almost sounds cute.

"This is the last time I'm attending this shitty ball," Levi swears to Erwin. "Even wine here is shitty."

He marches away immediately after that, heading to the table with wine. Mike can barely stop his laughter, as he watches Levi take a glass of wine, drink a few large gulps of it, and then wince, his mouth moving as he probably murmurs violent curses. He doesn't take his eyes off Hange and her dance partner, and relaxes only when the song ends.

Both Mike and Erwin watch intently as the actor kisses Hange's hand once again. Hange blushes, and Mike almost coos. Levi grabs another glass of wine.

When the actor starts leading Hange away, in the direction of the balcony, Levi starts moving too. He intercepts them just at the edge of the ballroom.

Mike knows he should have expected something like that, knows that Levi doesn't exactly possess the best of manners, but pouring wine over someone? Over his own colleague and friend? Mike certainly didn't expect that.

He's delighted to see what happens next, though.

What happens is that Hange's gorgeous white suit is ruined and Levi wraps his hand around her wrist and drags her to the bathroom. He sports a unusually pleased expression and Hange is laughing herself silly.

Not a bad ending to this endeavor, Mike thinks.

"Another disaster," Erwin sighs.

***

Third time is a charm, or so Mike hopes.

This time Erwin decides to take matter in his hands, and that another sign that this plan will succeed.

The plan is simple, yet, hopefully, effective. Erwin is to whisk Hange away to some remote location, create a scene that would look like a moment between lovers, and Mike is to call Levi there and make sure he witnesses it all.

Erwin is a brave man, Mike thinks, as his Commander explains the plan to him. He would never dare to do something like that to humanity's strongest. To awaken his jealous streak... Mike is glad he's not in Erwin's place.

One sunny afternoon, the plan is set in motion. Erwin takes Hange, and Mike goes to find Levi.

He finds him fairly quickly, in the middle of cleaning Hange's room. Man, he could at least try to make his crush be less discreet. But that's beside the point now, because Levi is cleaning Hange's room and not watching Erwin and Hange. Mike confidently strides up to him.

"Levi! I've just been looking for you."

"What do you need?" he asks boringly. "And have you seen four-eyes? I can't find her all day."

Erwin prepared some legend, a reason why Mike needs Levi, but in the heat of the moment, Mike can't remember a single word. So he just yells "Come with me!" and hope that Levi follows.

Thankfully, he does.

Mike leads him to the stables, where Erwin is already at it. His palm is on the wall, next to Hange's head, and from Mike's point of view, it certainly looks like they're in the middle of... something naughty.

Next to him, Levi tenses, and Mike can practically hear his teeth grinding.

Mike prepares for something very ugly, but then...

"I- I didn't know that Erwin and four-eyes-" oh, fuck, it sounds like Levi is genuinely sad, like he's heartbroken or something. Mike feels a strange desire to hug the little guy and pat his head. But then he remembers that he and Erwin are the reason for Levi's distress right now, and... remorse starts kicking in.

"Levi, listen, it's not-"

"Levi!"

As always, Hange is the one to save the day.

She breaks free from Erwin and sprints to Levi, a wide smile on her face. "You won't believe what Erwin had just told me! He gave me permission to go in the town's library and bring back all the books I want! I'm in dire need of your muscles, humanity's strongest, you'll go with me, right?"

Levi still seems grouchy, but under Hange's sunny grin, his angry facade crumbles. "I don't know if Commander will allow it..."

He doesn't even try to hide his bitterness and irration. Mike disguises his chuckle as a coughing fit.

"Erwin!" Hange turns to him, eyes pleading. "Can Levi go with me?"

"Sure," Erwin nods. "Take all the time you need."

Hange yells in triumph, loud enough to make Mike wince. She grabs Levi by the hand and drags him away. Erwin watches them with a wistful smile.

"I don't think we should get involved in their relationships," Mike says, as he approaches Erwin. He stands close to his Commander, their shoulders pressing against each other. "We should let them figure it out themselves."

"Agreed," Erwin says. "I'm sure they'll manage well enough even without us."

Mike watches Hange wrap her arm around Levi, and is inclined to agree. They will certainly manage without them both.

Or, at least, Hange is able to manage.

And that should be enough.

[danganronpa-imagine-headcanon]

Oooh, then can i request yandere Shuichi finding that he accidentally killed his darling during a punishment?:0

Feel free to deny it, take care of yourself and have a good day/night ^^

Hey anon! Of course you can. I’ve been looking for an excuse to use this particular sprite, pfft. This was actually kind of fun to write— aha! Thanks for sending in the request. I hope I wrote it how you wanted it to be. Have a nice day! ^^

-Mod Kirumi

TW!!!!!! For yanderes, unhealthy relationships, death, and a lot of themes that lean towards the darker side

Yandere! Shuichi who accidentally kills his S/o during a punishment!

•Shuichi didn’t intend to harm you

•Well— he did, but not too awfully

•He wouldn’t give you any major injuries— it would just be encouragment not to act incorrectly again

•So, that’s how he got here, you tied to the wooden chair carefully as he slowly grazed the tip of the knife across your skin

•You were whimpering, and mumbling out apologies, and, as nice as it was to hear your voice...

•He didn’t want to hear it

•You didn’t mean it— he was sure of it, you just wanted him to stop the punishment

•You were always so clever... he truly admired that about you

•But he couldn’t praise you during a punishment— that’d cause the unwarranted behavior to return

•So, he stayed silent, except for maybe some light humming as he tapped the tip of the knife towards your stomach

•“Stop— Saihara-kun, please, I’m sorry...”

•He paused, stiffening

•Sai...hara-kun?

•You didn’t call him Shuichi

•You used his last name

•Maybe in a fit of fury, he was blinded by it, practically seeing red as he slid the blade evenly across your arm, causing a slit of blood to form as you gasped

•He didn’t stop there

•He didn’t know what he was doing, he had no idea, he was trembling, pure adrenaline the only thing keeping him on his feet as he continued moving the knife, a blank look on his face

•It wasn’t until he noticed that you were no longer making any noises, or protests, that he stopped

•He blinked, and with that, horror ran cold through his blood as he noticed the light lost from your eyes

•Instinctively, he snatched your wrist, checking for a pulse, his other hand towards your chest as he tried to check for a heartbeat, any faint sense of life remaining in you

•...You were gone

•He had killed you

•He was horrified, he was terrified, he felt tears blur over his vision and spill over as sobs brutally racked his figure

•It was the ugly, sickening kind of cry, that would tug at the heartstrings of anyone who heard it, because as much of a mess as the person looked, the sadness was so sincere

•He’d selfishly killed the one he loved

•He had killed you— he wasn’t ever going to see you again, hear your voice

•He stayed there for a while, crying, feeling numb and nothing for a while, the vicious cycle continuing as the sun set and rose once more

•And once the sunlight poured into the room, he stood up

•He tidied everything up, cleaning the blood from around the area, the knife, from his hands

•He changed into cleaner clothes, making sure that everyhing was nice and neat

•He only left you there, in the room

•And, after that?

•He turned himself in

•He told the person on the other side of the phone the address, guilt in his voice, and he then awaited someone to show up at his door

•He stayed next to you the entirety of the time, holding your hand, quiet apologies escaping his lips as he promised he didn’t mean to, he hopes you’re safe and happy now

•You were never happy with him— he didn’t give it enough time for you to be used to him

•He hopes that, despite all of his mistakes, all of his crimes, he can see you again

•Whether that be in an entirely different life, or in an afterlife, that’s enough for him

•You deserve an apology

•You deserve an apology

•When he was taken away, hands behind his back, he offered you one last smile

•“I’m sorry, S/o. I hope you can forgive me.”

•Kaito and Maki were beyond surprised, even hurt to see their friend on the news due to murder

•It didn’t only affect him and you— your death affected the people around you two too

•But, overtime, they’re all going to learn to cope

•They’ll make sure everything is alright in the end

•Because, in the end, the moon will set, and the sun will rise once more

•It will be a new day

•A fresh start— a try again

[bobbys-naughty-corner]

My very first fluff

Bokuto x reader (college au)

Warnings: fluff. Just something I dreamt of.

Why was it so hard to keep his eyes off you? It frustrated him so much to watch you. Looking at you dance, laugh and have fun with friends. Why did he even care about you anyways? Bokuto sipped the liquor from his cup and looked away. He could hear your distinct laughter over the music and large chattering crowd. He shouldn’t even be looking at other girls. But you, boy oh boy, you were... ugh! Bokuto hated that he even liked you. Hated when he’d stutter, blush or even laugh at random times if you even said a word to him. He hated that he even compared you to his girlfriend. The girl he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. Someone he didn’t have to worry about while in separate school. But now he questioned if he loved her or thought it was easier to date someone just to fill in the romance in his life. He wasn’t looking for someone then but when she had asked him he said yes. See he didn’t get the same butterflies he did with you. He didn’t even blush when she flirted. It honestly felt like a forced relationship that was tearing down. He loved his girlfriend. He did! He prioritized her just like she wanted, did anything for her, treated her like a Queen. She was his queen, but why did his heart throb when he smelt your perfume? Why did he break out in sweat any time you approached? It was weird. So weird. Wasn’t that supposed to happen with his girlfriend? No, no maybe he just wasn’t seeing her the way he should. Maybe it’s the long distance. The time apart, the arguing, the ghosting. Yeah that could be it. Bokuto chugged the rest of his drink and disappeared into the party.

Your pov

I was having a blast. College parties were fun but it did feel a bit uncomfortable. I felt like someone was watching me. My friends hand me a small shot glass and I raised my brow at the small solo cup. “It’s plastic.” I said. “Girl whatever just take the shot and then find some blue bin to put it in.” My roommate rolled her eyes. I swallowed the shot and shivered as the hard liquor rolled down my throat. It stung and tasted horrible. I hated flavored liquor and I’m sure she gave me just that. I handed her the cup and she put another in my hand. “Again?” I complained but still took it. “Yeah we all have two!” She said taking hers. I tossed the drink back and scrunched my face. “Yuck!” I said aloud, smacking my lips. “Now let’s go!” My roommate put the cups on some random table and dragged the whole group deeper into the party.

I stumbled around the frat trying to find an exit. It was late, I was tired, hungry and drunk. I don’t even know how I’m going to make it to my dorm. I tripped over someone’s foot and hit someone with my head. “I’m sorry!” I said rubbing my head. When the person turned around I could barely make out their face. The light, intoxication and music distorted everything. “Y-YN?” The voice was very familiar. “Yeah. Who’reyou?” I asked trying to stand still but I could feel my body moving around as if my feet weren’t flat on the ground. “Are you okay?” They ignored my question. But I did too. “I think I had too much to drink.” I admitted. “Trying to get to my bed so I could sleep. It’s like 2 am.” I looked at my imaginary watch and then back to the person. I squinted my eyes hoping my vision would clear up. I vaguely made out the yellow eyes, spiked hair, and bleached tips. They were tall. My mind tried to remember who was built like them. “Bokuto! That’s your name right?” I said aloud. “Yeah, I sit behind you in Psychology.” I nodded finally remembering everything I knew about him. Which wasn’t much since we barely spoke to one another. “Well I guess I’ll see you in class Tuesday.” I tried walking pass him but he stopped me. Using his arm to block my path. “I-I’ll walk you back.” He offered. Well more like he stated. I looked up at him and nodded. I grabbed his hand, “okay walking buddy, lead the way.” I said. His fingers squeezed my hand and tried to let go. Not happening. If I let go and blink he’ll be gone. Bokuto stayed still and I groaned. I pulled him to the exit and weaved pass bodies. Holding his hand tightly so he wouldn’t get separated.

I swung our arms back and forth as I damn near skipped beside him. “Did you have fun?” I asked him. “Uh, y-yeah I guess.” He said. Avoiding any eye contact with me. “Oh really. I know you was hugging that wall. You didn’t even look comfortable. I guess that why you want to walk back to the dorms. Well lucky for you, I’m here to take you back safely.” I cheered. “Actually I’m walking you back. And I guess I’m just out of it tonight.” He confessed. “Oh boohoo. You’re in college, your fun is finally here. I’ve seen how you act around your friends all loud and energetic. You were supposed to be the main one swinging from that ugly ass chandelier.” I said to him. I heard him chuckle and smiled at him. “But seriously you shouldn’t drown your feelings with alcohol. Let’s talk about it. We got a bit of a walk.” I moved closer to him and hugged his arm. Bokuto stayed silent though until he sighed. “I, I have, I haven’t been doing too well in class.” He dropped his head. “Oh come on! That can’t be it. Everyone in there is probably failing a class. I’m failing math but that shit is super hard and I didn’t buy textbook. I think I know what it is.” I poked his arm and pressed my body against him more. Bokuto blushed and tried to hold up my weight and walk at the same time. “Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked. I pulled away from him and waited on his answer. He nodded his head. “Is she here?” I continued to ask simple questions leading into more detailed questions.

“Do you talk everyday?”

“She’s not talking to me right now.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.

“Do you still love her?”

“Yes... maybe. Idk it’s like the feels are going away.” There it was. He began to rant. “When we both started college everything was great. We’d talk everyday, shared our schedules, even had online dates. But now she barely replies back, says she’s in class even after school hours. Last month she ghosted me for a week and said that her phone got hacked and she lost my number. How could you lose my number when you made me remember yours. Ugh! She drives me crazy. I want to love her but I’m stuck. It’s like there’s nothing to love. She slipped from my hands and I have no clue where she’s going.” He concluded. Wow. That’s tough. I rubbed his back and tried to encourage him. “Oh don’t worry. Give her time if you think she’s worth the wait. Every woman has her own struggle.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I don’t think that she is. And I don’t want to think I used her. I thought she was perfect for me. Then someone else came along and she started to drift, I don’t know.” Wait, someone else? “As in some guy came into her life?” I asked but he shook his head. “Oooooh you like someone. Juicy. Would you like to hear my advice?” I asked. I made us stop so he could listen. “I think, this could be the liquor talking but I think you should break up. If you still feel a connection then wait for the right time to fix that relationship. But if your heart says something else then you should listen to yourself. No knows you better than you, and your body wouldn’t put itself in harms way.” I rubbed his arms and looked into his eyes. He didn’t look drunk. But how could I tell, I’m so close to just dropping to the ground. “I’ve never been in a relationship though and I don’t know your situation all that well but I know when my heart tells me something I don’t always have to listen. But sometimes the heart wants what it wants. Plus most relationships don’t last when people enter college anyway. Just a fact.” I told him. I wish I had my glasses, I could see better with them on.

At the dorm I literally remembered that I didn’t bring my key or ID. “Sooo, I actually can’t get to my room...” I said, partially embarrassed. “You can stay in my dorm. I have a single room.” He offered. My eyes lit up and my smile spread across my face. I just wanted to lay down. He led me to another dorm building and let me in. His room was on the 4th floor all the way at the end. Inside was neat. Although his volleyball obsession was very clear from the posters all over his wall. When my eyes landed on his bed I immediately jumped on it. The bed was high, he must’ve done that because he was tall. Bokuto sat on the other side and kicks his shoes off. Mine fell off my feet when I jumped. “I’m going to shower.” He said. My body shot up. I wanted to shower too. Ugh I wish I was in my room! Bokuto looked at me surprised that I got up so quickly. “Do you want to take a shower after me? I can give you clean clothes.” He got off the bed and looked through his Chester to find something for me. “You’re so nice!” I said rolling around his large bed.

Bokuto pov

What was I doing?! GFN would kill me if she knew I had a girl in my room. I can’t tell her. No one knows. I’m sure YN would even forget being in here. I pulled out a sweatshirt and shorts I practice in. When I turned back YN was standing at my mirror, making faces. How could she be so cute? “Did you dance with anyone?” She asked me. “No. Here wear this. You can shower before or after. I have extra towels.” She ignored what I said and shook her ass in the mirror. My eyes glued to her butt. Watching her dress rise up showing the colorful panty she wore. Fuck! It was hard to look away. It was hard to stop getting hard. You stood up and came over to me. I held the clothes out to you and you took it but put it down. You entangled your hand in mine and spun yourself into my chest. Moving you hips against my crotch. “Dance with me.” You said twirling around like a drunk. You were drunk. “I have a girlfriend.” I said without thinking. You frowned but then smiled. “See that. Loyalty. You should try calling her. Probably before your shower.” You dropped my hand and walked to the bed. You looked sad and disappointed.

Your pov

Who was I kidding? He has a girlfriend which you told him to break up with. Fucking Dumbass.

It was quiet and awkward after we both showered. No one spoke. We laid far away from each other. Practically falling off the bed as we both slept at the edge. I kept the blanket on my legs since I wore a sweater. Bokuto wore a white shirt with shorts. He was probably asleep too. I moved around in the bed, vey uncomfortable and hot. The sweater smelled just like him, so did the bed and the whole room. I sat up and looked at Bokuto’s back. Don’t turn around. I quickly took the sweater off and fell back into the bed. I quickly got under the blanket before he turned over. “Are you okay?” He asked. I held the blanket under my neck leaving no room for him to see what I did. I nodded my head and turned around. What time is it? I swear I always tired earlier. Why am I not asleep now? Bokuto put his hand on the back of my neck and I shivered. “You’re cold.” He stated. His hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me back to him. I squeaked and blushed. He was most definitely warm and I most definitely didn’t have a top on. His body cuddled mine. Pressing against me and squeezing me. God, why did you let my life play out like this. “Can I tell you something?” He asked me. “Yeah. I’m listening.” I said still with my back to him. “I spoke to GFN. She explained why she wasn’t replying back.” His arm pulled me closer and I could literally hear the pain in his voice. Did she cheat? Are they over with? Why am so excited about this? “What did she say?” I wanted to hug him but I just rubbed the arm that wrapped around me. “She said she wanted to break up.” He paused. “Then she told me why. She’s pregnant. She’s been going to the hospital and that’s why she’s been avoiding me.” What a turn of events. I really wasn’t expecting that. I slowly turned around making sure I still covered my chest. I hugged him softly and he hugged back. “She doesn’t deserve you.” I said. “Maybe this the sign you need to listen to your heart. I’m sure the next person will treasure you.” I felt his hands on my back. They were so big, his fingers spread out but then they ball into a fist against by my skin. Bokuto quickly and smoothly puts me on my back and kisses me. I gasped and he put his tongue in my mouth. “Mmph!” His body was way too heavy for me to push off. His tongue tried to get mine to move but when I didn’t he pulled away. “I-I I’m sorry!” I was shocked. Too shocked to kiss back. “You’ve been so nice and understanding I just-“ I cut him off. “Sex with a stranger won’t lead to closure.” I told him. “To me you’re not a stranger. I like you. A lot. The moment I saw you in class my heart just wanted to be next to you. I didn’t feel the same way about my girlfriend. I thought about you more than her. You are so fun and goofy. I thought that it was your body and the separation but the more I gave it thought the more I realized I’m in love with you.” He confessed. What? Huh?

My blush wasn’t as visible as his but I was still flustered. This has to be one of the most awkward confessions I’ve ever got. But I just so happen to like him too. He’s handsome, funny, tall, Athletic, I mean come on. He has such an extraordinary quality about him that just makes people around him look up to him and admire him. He’s smart, social, caring, just an all around amazing person. His eyes trailed lower and his face turned red. Eyes wide and alert as he gazed at my chest. I quickly folded my arms and he looked back up. As if his brain rebooted he sat up and moved. “I’m sorry.” He apologized again. He got up and headed for his door. “W-where are you going?!” I said aloud. “To let you sleep.” He opened his door and nearly closed it before I could even finish my sentence. “I don’t want to sleep alone!” I yelled. The door cracked open and the light from the hallway peered in. “I like you too but-“ he opened the door wider and was crying. He ran and tackled me on his bed. Crushing my body under his.

Narrative pov

Bokuto didn’t care if he didn’t have anyone. He truly wanted someone to relate to, to laugh at his corny jokes, give him the time of day. He didn’t want to be an accessory or molded into the perfect boyfriend. You were right for him. He knew it, he felt it. You tapped his arm to let him know that you wanted him up. “Can I finish?” You asked covering your chest with the blanket. Bokuto nodded, he’d listen to anything you say like it was his favorite radio station. “I do like you too. Love is a strong word and I’ve told you I’ve never been in a relationship so as much as my heart flutters with joy and aches with excitement to hear you like me too, I have to at least have some time. Time to see how we’d work together, time to prepare myself, time to dedicate myself to you. You play volleyball, that may be in the way of having a relationship. So we can have a trial of one month and if things go smoothly then I would love to be your girlfriend. That is if you want to start dating. If you just want sex then Imma leave because I don’t tolerate drunk sex.” “YN if it takes a year for you to feel ready then I’ll be waiting the whole year.” He kissed the back of my hand and leaned in for a hug. “Can I get your number?” Bokuto asked you. He went to get his phone so you can put them digits in.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

All the Reasons I Love You

Ao3

Summary: Virgil wished he could say he didn't believe his mother. Wished he could say he knew her ugly words were also ugly lies and nothing more. But even lies could hold truths, and in this case, Virgil knew hers did- after all, really, who would want to love someone as broken as him? Content: Panic attacks/anxiety, mentally/emotionally abusive parent, mentions of death/dying as jokes (as in no one’s actually dead they just joke that they’re going to be), self-deprecation, self-esteem/self-worth issues, nb!Remy, genderfluid!Logan Pairings: Platonic to romantic Analogical, background romantic Losleep, platonic Sleepxiety, ambiguous future Analosleep

~~

    You’re better than this.

    I know you’re not this weak. Why do you always act like you are?

    No one’s going to want to pick you up if you keep falling apart.

    Virgil slammed his locker shut, leaning his forehead against the cold metal. He and his mom had had another fight the night before, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

    Correction: He had had a panic attack and his mother had yelled at his prone and shaking form. She just called it a fight because then it made it look like they were both in the wrong.

    Virgil couldn’t even remember what had caused it- something she had said, probably, but who knows. All he really remembers is not being able to breathe, falling off the couch as he struggled to get through his counting exercises, his mother watching him with open scorn as she belittled him.

    “You’re never going to get a wife like this.” She had said as he choked on his own hurried breaths. “No one’s going to care about you if you’re so useless.”

    It was always about marriage. As if that mattered to Virgil. His mom didn’t even know he was queer- something he had no plans to ever tell her. He had just focused on trying to breath, a task that had become a little easier once his mother had given up with her insults, stalking off to aggressively wash the dishes. As soon as he could stand without the world completely greying out, Virgil had run off to his room, locking himself in and staying there until he had to leave for school the next day.

    “Greetings, Virgil.”

    Virgil turned his head, still pressing the side of his face against the locker even as he looked at the speaker. Logan was as put together as always- their black and midnight blue hair was pulled into a neat braid, and they were wearing a simple NASA t-shirt that was tucked into their clean and un-ripped jeans. Pinned to the dark leather jacket they had on was both their genderfluid pride pin and their ‘they/them pronouns’ pin.

    “Hey, Lo.” He returned, finally moving so that his shoulder was leaned against his locker and not his head. “Remy give you xir jacket?”

    “I stole it.” Logan responded. When Virgil raised an eyebrow at them, Logan sighed. “Fine, yes, xe gave it to me and refused to let me give it back.”

    Virgil chuckled. “I think Remy’d give you the world if you wanted it. Xe’s not going to make you steal xir jacket.”

    Logan smiled, the corner of their mouth tipping up. “Fair enough.” They said happily. Their smile fell in the next moment, however, being replaced by what Virgil was sure was meant to be a neutral expression but instead came out as a very nervous one. “Virgil, I was wondering if you are free after school today?”

    “Um, I am.” Virgil said, frowning in worry. “Why?”

    “I need- want- need to discuss something with you.” Logan said before adding on quickly, “It’s nothing bad, I assure you.”

    “Uh huh.” Virgil said, tone faintly disbelieving. He appreciated that Logan had tried to ease the anxiety they clearly knew would flare at the words ‘I need to discuss something with you’ with the addition, but given how hurriedly they had added it and the fact that their fingers were tapping repeated against their thigh (one of their nervous stims), it hadn’t helped much. “As long as I can get a ride home, I’m free.”

    Logan nodded. “Of course. Meet you in the park?”

    “Works for me.” Virgil responded. Logan nodded again, just as the bell rang.

    “I have to go.” Logan said, as if Virgil didn’t also have to go. “I have chess at lunch, so I won’t see you then- after school, though, I will?”

    “Yeah, you will.” Virgil confirmed.

    “Great.” Logan said, their tapping stopping for a moment as they smiled. “Have a good day, Virgil.” 

    “You too.” Virgil told them as they turned and rushed down the hall, trying to beat the bell to chemistry. Virgil remained at his locker a moment longer, his classroom close enough he wasn’t worried about tardiness, instead allowing his mind to briefly wander and settle upon what he was worried about- his newly set after school meeting.

 ��  ~~

    “I’m going to die.”

    Remy took a long, noisy slurp of xir iced coffee. “No, you’re not.”

    “Yes I am.”

    “No you’re not.”

    “Yes I-”

    “Hun, as fun as this is, I do not need to deal with you getting yourself stuck in an anxiety spiral right now.” Remy interrupted him, now checking xir nails, painted in shades of black and pink, the colour choice having clearly been made to match with xir pink tank top and black jacket. Virgil thought it still worked, even if xe’s jacket was currently being worn by xir partner. “You haven’t even explained why you think today’s your last.”

    Virgil slumped over the table, letting out a groan. “Logan wants to talk to me after school.”

    “So…?”

    “So, they were clearly nervous about it!” Virgil exclaimed, turning his face downwards and pressing it against the table top. “They’re going to kill me.”

    Remy laughed. “No offense, darling, but I don’t think Logan’s much of a killer. Well, killer looks aside. Besides, what do you care? More time with your friend and crush can’t exactly be the worst thing the world-”

    “Crush-!” Virgil jerked back up, eyes wide. “They’re not my crush!”

    Remy titled xir sunglasses down so that xe could stare at Virgil in disappointment. “Sugar, you ain’t subtle.”

    “Yes- but- you’re dating them!” Virgil resorted to, as if Logan being a taken enby made it impossible for Virgil to think they were cute and nice and clever and-

    “I’m poly, they’re poly,” Remy shrugged as xe spoke, pausing to sip xir drink, “I’m not exactly the jealous type… if you’ve got a thing for them, babes, you might as well just admit it.”

    Virgil didn’t respond immediately, but soon enough he was slumping down again, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on top of them. “Yeah, alright, whatever.”

    Remy smirked. “Now, was that so hard?”

    “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to die at that meeting.”

    Remy sighed. “You’re not going to die at that meeting.”

    Virgil glared heatlessly at Remy. “You can’t promise that.”

    “They’re my boo, I’ll make sure they don’t kill ya.” Remy said, pulling xir phone out of xir pocket and checking xir messages. “Hmph.”

    “What is it?”

    “Logan’s reminding me iced coffee doesn’t count as lunch.” Remy said, looking back at Virgil with a mildly exasperated smile. “That nerd won’t let me get away with half my old habits anymore. It’s almost annoying.”

    “Self-care being gently forced upon you by your beloved.” Virgil said, tone dry with sarcasm as he finished, “Yeah, that sounds awful.”

    “Oh, hush.” Remy said, waving xir hand dismissively as xe put xir phone away. “And come on. I’m not letting you get away with ‘I had a big breakfast’ if Logan won’t let me get away with iced coffee.”

    Virgil huffed but he still got up. “Why must you force your partner’s policies upon me?”

    “Because you’re my friend so I want you to practice self-care too, and I don’t want to suffer alone.” Remy said as xe headed for the cafeteria doors, Virgil following xem. “Plus, I figure they’re gonna be both our partner soon enough anyways-”

    “What?!”

    “Oh, uh,” Remy faltered for a moment, glancing back at Virgil, eyes masked by xir sunglasses but xir expression obviously conflicted. It smoothed out after a moment, however, and xe continued confidently, “well, your secret is officially out now, sweetheart. Shouldn’t take me too long to get y’all matched!”

    “I- oh- Remy-” Virgil tripped over his words, biting his tongue as Remy stopped to look at him in confusion. “You don’t have to do that, Rem, really.”

    “Trust me, sugar, it’ll be my pleasure.” Remy assured him, resuming xir walk towards the exit. “Won’t harm either of us if I try, anyways, yeah?”

    Virgil didn’t reply to that, simply continuing to follow Remy in silence. Because it could harm one of them, specifically himself, when he was forced to confront Logan’s reaction- which could range anywhere from awkward pity to outright disgust.

    After all, while his mother certainly had no right to say the things she said, the things she said were still true… and Logan was so capable, so smart and able to take care of themself… well.

Someone like them wouldn’t fall in love with a ball-and-chain.

    ~~

    Virgil was going to die.

    He was standing at the entrance to the park, Logan seated at a picnic table not too far away from where he was hovering. They hadn’t seen him yet, busy scribbling something or another on their paper, but Virgil knew he didn’t have forever to panic.

    So he was taking what time he did have to mega-panic.

    He had briefly considered running away from the whole situation, but Remy was watching him from the street, waiting in the car and playing the role of both waiting chauffeur and watchdog.

    “You’ll do fine, darling.” Remy had assured him, smirking. “Though, if Logan does kill you, I’m obligated by partner code to help them hide your body.”

    That exchange had not put Virgil at ease.

    Virgil wasn’t even close to finishing his several internal panic attacks when he realized Logan had looked up from their work and spotted him. They were waving him over, smiling. Virgil gulped and tried not to wobble as he made his approach.

    “There you are.” Logan greeted, voice warmer than Virgil had expected from them. His ‘stolen’ jacket now bore both their ‘he/him’ and ‘they/them’ pronoun pins. “I was beginning to worry you weren’t coming.”

    “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Virgil said, trying to hide the tremor in both his voice and hands as he sat down across from Logan. “Just had to stay a bit late in sixth- sorry.”

    “It is perfectly alright. No need to apologize.” Logan assured him as he started pushing their papers into his bag. The quick look at them that Virgil got revealed them to not be the equations he had been expecting to see- instead, it was simply covered in back-and-forth lines and meaningless doodles; distractions, things to focus on instead of whatever had them so worked up.

    So this meeting had Logan stressed too. Great. Super. Utterly fantastic.

    Virgil bit down on the inside of his mouth, trying to keep what little bit of his cool he had left. “So. Something you needed to talk to me about?”

    “Uh- yes.” Logan confirmed, though Virgil didn’t miss his hesitation. They looked away from Virgil, his hand once more on their thigh and tapping out a beat too fast for any song to follow.

    “...Can I know what it is you need to talk to me about?” Virgil asked, really starting to hate this theme of him starting the conversation. He wasn’t good at it normally, and right now he felt he was only doing worse.

    Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything right away. Virgil nodded too, an echo of Logan’s movement, deciding to give Logan their time to respond. A minute or two stretched before Logan took in a deep breath, the tapping on his thigh finally coming to a stop as they turned to Virgil. He smiled, a small nervous thing that immediately had Virgil even more on edge.

    “Virgil,” They started, that one word alone spiking Virgil’s blood pressure, “you are my friend of five years. I have known you since seventh grade. I like to believe that, in the span of time between then and now, we have grown… close.”

    “That’s how friendships work, specs.” Virgil said, trying to beat down the demon of paranoia that had arisen to explain to him that Logan was clearly about to disown him, or perhaps shoot him.

    “I am aware, trust me, I just-” Logan cut himself off, laughing nervously and glancing away for a moment before once more returning their gaze to Virgil, “I’m no good at this.”

    Virgil laughed a bit too, albeit more anxiously than nervously. “And what’s ‘this’?”

    Logan let out a breath. “You are aware that I am dating Remy?”

    “Hard not to be, what with you wearing xir jacket and everything.”

    “And you are aware that I am polyamrous and that we are in an open relationship?”

    Virgil swallowed. “Remy told me earlier today, yeah, though I don’t see why that could be important-”

    “I like you!” Logan exclaimed, suddenly, almost panickedly. “Well, love you, more accurately put, but I hope I get my point across-” Logan itched at the back of their neck, looking sheepish. Virgil, for his part, had been frozen since Logan had said those first three words. “I meant to do this much more… eloquently, but I- well, I’m never good with this. You can ask Remy, I yelled it at xem in the middle of a Starbucks- Virgil? Are you okay?”

    Virgil, to his mixed horror and humiliation, didn’t respond, finding himself still functionally frozen in place. His unresponsive exterior wasn’t a very accurate depiction of his inner turmoil, however- he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his heartbeat drumming in his ear, his lungs constricting and his throat closing up.

    Useless

    Weak

    No one’s going to want you

    Virgil hated that he knew he was only proving the voices right- proving his mother right. But he couldn’t help it. All he could do was choke on nothing and wait for the insults he knew would soon be coming-

    “Virgil!”

    When had Logan gotten so close? Virgil could’ve sworn he was seated across from him, but now they were next to him, and his eyes were really wide, and they looked really worried and that couldn’t be good so why was Logan worried what had him worried-

    “Virgil, I need you to breathe with me.” Logan’s voice was much calmer this time, and Virgil was much more inclined to listen to it. It was reassuring, grounding, familiar.

    He jerked when his hand was touched, but when he realized it was Logan holding his hand, gently guiding it to rest on their chest as he breathed exaggeratedly, he relaxed, trying his hardest to follow Logan’s breaths.

    Virgil wasn’t sure the last time he had come down from a panic attack so quickly. It helped, he thought vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, to have someone helping you instead of yelling at you.

    “Virgil?” Logan repeated Virgil’s name once more, this time softly, concern colouring his tone. “Are you okay?”

    “I- yeah.” Virgil said, still feeling breathless. He didn’t try to move from his position, hunched over and leaning towards Logan, the hand Logan had pressed against their chest remaining there. “Sorry.”

    “No need to apologize.” Logan told him easily, lowering his hand from their chest but still holding it, helping to keep Virgil grounded. “If anyone should be apologizing, Virgil, it’s me. I never thought that my confession might- I didn’t think about how your anxiety might cause you to react, and I am so, so sorry for that.”

    Virgil waved him off with his free hand. “Don’t worry about it.” Logan opened their mouth to respond, but Virgil simply waved dismissively once more. “You couldn’t have known, Lo. It’s not your fault.”

    Logan didn’t make any response to that, but Virgil could tell they wanted to. The silence stretched for a moment before Logan began, “If you want to go home now-”

    “Why?”

    Logan shut up the moment Virgil spoke, eyes wide as they looked at him in confusion. “Why what?”

    “Why- why me?” Virgil asked, disliking how weak he sounded but having no way to remedy it. “I mean, you already have Remy, and I-”

    Logan still looked confused. “Why you?” They repeated, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be you?”

    Virgil chuckled, but it was harsh yet shaky. “I’m an anxious mess who overthinks everything! I have a panic attack every other week! I had a panic attack when you tried to tell me you loved me! I don’t exactly have that many redeeming qualities- especially when you look to Remy, who’s got confidence, and style, and-”

    Logan’s small smile returned as he squeezed Virgil’s hand, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Virgil, I’m not picking out partners based on objective merit. If I was, I wouldn’t be dating Remy.”

    “Xe’s your partner-”

    “Xe’s sweet and has no braincells.” Logan corrected, still smiling. “But I love xem, because I think xe’s cute, and xe makes me happy- simple as that.”

    Logan was looking at Virgil now, his smile growing as they moved to hold one of Virgil’s hands in both of his own. “Yes, you have anxiety, and yes, you have panic attacks, but that doesn’t nullify all the reasons I love you.”

    “Reasons you… reasons you love me?” Virgil repeated, voice quiet and vulnerable.

    “You’re thoughtful regarding everything you do.” Logan said without preamble. “And you’re respectful towards all. When bored, you doodle band logos on the backs of your hands, and you run your fingers through your hair when you’re stressed. You sing rock songs under your breath when you think no one can hear and your voice is heavenly when you do so. And sometimes you smile without even realizing it, and I- I think you’re prettiest then, because you’re relaxed and you’re happy and you’re absolutely beautiful.”

    Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that outside of gaping at Logan, feeling once more breathless but now in a good way. “Really?” He managed, just barely.

    Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand again, scooting closer to him so that their knees could bump up against each other. “I would never lie to you, Virgil, not about this.”

    Virgil nodded, more to himself than Logan. “Okay.” He said, quietly.

    “Pardon?”

    “Okay.” Virgil repeated, this time louder, before he allowed himself to slump fully forwards, head falling upon Logan’s shoulder, exhaustion from the panic attack and the sudden need to be much closer to Logan mingling together and pushing him forwards. Logan reacted immediately, releasing Virgil’s hand to wrap their arms around him instead, holding him close but not too tightly.

    “So…” Logan started, uncertainly, though not as nervous as they had been when Virgil first arrived in the park. “If I asked you to be my boyfriend… what would you say?”

    “Yes.” Virgil replied without a thought, the answer already long decided. “I’d- I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

    Almost as soon as he had said that, Virgil could feel Logan pressing a kiss to his head, gentle and sweet. “Good. Because I’d love to be your partner.”

    Virgil pressed himself closer to Logan, head still pressed into his shoulder. “Lo?”

    “Yes, my love?”

    A giddy little smile appeared on Virgil’s lips at the petname. “I love you.”

    Logan chuckled at that, also sounding rather giddy themself, choosing to press another kiss to Virgil’s head. “I love you too.”

    Virgil knew the moment wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, he’d be once more asking if this was possible and deciding it was not, doubting Logan and their love and falling back into the familiarity of his mother’s words.

    But Logan would be there when that happened, just like he was now, to hold Virgil and remind him of the truth- to love him. Because Virgil knew that this wasn’t perfect. But he also knew that it was real.

    And that was enough.

[tangledinmdzs]

you belong to me, junior quartet hcs

junior quartet soulmate headcanons (modern au)

these are a bit long, but i hope you all don’t mind (also i hope you won’t mind the little formatting things i’m working on hehe)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lan Sizhui

the timer

the moment that Lan Sizhui met you, he knew that you would be someone important to him

when his parents had become friendly with the family down the street and had introduced him to your smiling face, there was no turning back from there

he’d always adored you, long before the timer appeared on your 12th birthdays

and even after that, when the craze of estimates and soulmate countdowns swept through your school he still felt the same lingering ease of being beside you

Sizhui was fine with the mystery of the very big digits on his timer but you had been curious and had dragged him along on the estimation and soulmate guiding journeys that all the kids were crazy about

with some math, he figured out that his timer was set for only 6 more years from now, when he would turn 18.

you were more than jealous, because you had to wait a whole 4 years after him, destined to meet your soulmate at 22

“ahh that means it could be anyone in high school! you’re going to have your first love be your soulmate! that’s so romantic” and you would go on and on and on about all of that, young love and such things

he’d just laugh at you but let you immerse yourself in whatever you wanted to your heart’s content

high school years pass and go like a short rainstorm. 

you and Sizhui grow up together, laughter together, stay together despite all the world’s turbulences

Sizhui doesn’t meet anyone that stays longer than a week, even as his time drops day by day

the years pass by faster than you would imagine and on a wintery January morning, Sizhui wakes up on his 18th birthday to notice that his timer is counting down hours instead of days.

he’s a little shocked, a little scared

what if he met/was destined with a complete stranger

could that happen?

the smallest part of him hopes that isn’t the case

and then that small part of him is reassured by the fact that he would at least be spending some part of the day with you

out of the many traditions that you both have made, you always promised to celebrate each other’s birthday together

the little cute gifs and texts won’t cut it

just the thought of you eases his anxiousness and he anticipates the night that you guys have together

but as the evening gets later and you show no sign of showing up he begins to get worried, then fearful, then anxious

and even though it’s his birthday he ends up pacing by the front door when every call and text that he sends to you is left unanswered

his dads are worried too, you’re not usually like this and they hate seeing their only son so worried

they end up calling your parents only for them to be confused on your whereabouts and now everyone is worried

Sizhui can’t imagine anything happening to you and his fear is heightened by the late hours that’s approaching

he’s too worried about your well being to really notice that the timer on his wrist only has minutes left instead of hours

it is nearing 11:47PM and Sizhui is hurriedly shrugs on a winter coat and scarf, ready to just go looking for you himself

his dads are against it, one lost kid is already a enough of a worry 

but he doesn’t listen, can’t listen 

you’re his best friend for god’s sakes it’s not like he could just leave you

and he’s ignoring his parents commands and pulling the front door open just as the timer on his wrist runs out

in the snowy backdrop of early January five minutes to midnight, you stand with rosy cheeks and a bright smile with a big bag in your arms and a warmth in your eyes

“i was waiting on line for the release of this and i didn’t realize people took so long to wrap things and then the creators ended up being there so i had to fight some people for their signatures... but i’m here! i didn’t miss Sizhui day!” you explain in tumble of words and shove the bag unceremoniously into his shellshocked arms

“i know they’re your favorite game series! so this is all for you” you tell him, smiling widely at his face

he blinks at you, the incessant ticking at the back of his mind finally silent after so many years

Sizhui puts the bag down without even opening it 

without another word he pulls you close to him, holding you tight

his timer has finally ended

but your countdown steadily ticks on | || ||| [pt 2]

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Lan Jingyi

writing on skin

you didn’t know who your soulmate was, but whoever they were must be the biggest cheater you’d ever meet

almost as early as you could have been able to contact your soulmate, your skin had been littered with writings of all different kinds

it had started off as little occurrences that slowly got heavier as you both continued on your academic careers

at one point the notes had gotten so bad that you had to resort to wearing long sleeves just to cover up the array of words that were on every inch of your arms  (even the occasional stomach)

all your friends always wondered why you never contacted this soulmate of yours

some acquaintances recommended the idea to you like you couldn’t have thought of it yourself.

of course you wanted to contact this person; tell them to lighten up on the writing a little bit

but was there even any room to write? would they even be able to tell the difference between your handwriting amidst all of the chaos of their notes?

besides this person also seems incredibly sly to be able to get away with such methods of learning for a long time

so you go along with it until you can’t

in your final year of college, the sleeve of words that don’t belong to you almost cost you your diploma

you’d been accused of cheating from your professor and had to go through a deep and painful trial to plead your innocence

it was something that lasted nearly a week, since plagiarism and lack of academic integrity were the highest of offenses at your college

your truth was finally realized when the higher ups on the board realized they couldn’t wash the writing off your arms and you provided the evidence of different handwritings

the trial had been so demanding and draining and it wasn’t even your fault!

and in your anger after the whole ordeal, you don’t think

you return to your dorm room, take out your big blue sharpie and retaliated to your soulmate for the first time by writing STOP on your left arm and  CHEATING on your right. 

you leave the large letters on for a the rest of the night, even when you get weird looks from your roommate for it

that night goes on normally until you’re about to go to sleep and you look down at your arms to realize that the sleeve of tiny scribbles are scrubbed clean from your skin

al that’s left aside from your blue sharpie is a single answer on your right arm, written in the handwriting that you had come to know better than your own for the past few years

i don’t cheat

you huff a disbelieving laugh at that and seeing that your arms are mostly clear go and wash off the blue sharpie

when your soulmate’s answer still remains, you answer them even though the night is late

what does a person do with so much notes on their arms if not to cheat?

your response is written in dark black, neat handwriting despite the fact that you’re writing at an awkward angle and place on your arm

after a few moments, words begin to appear

it’s so weird seeing words appear randomly on your skin, especially when they happen before your eyes

taking notes on the body saves paper

the answer truly makes you have a loss for words and knowing that you were awake, your soulmate probably felt the awkwardness from the silence that lapses for a bit afterwards

it just helps me concentrate better

but i’m assuming you’re not a big fan

and from that you guys start a conversation long overdue, years overdue

you learn that his name is Lan Jingyi and despite the unconventionalities of his work ethic, he had a bit of a charm when he was writing to someone with an answer

morning comes to both of you before you realize

and this time when your arms are filled, it is with many answers, instead of just questions

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Jin Ling

with one touch

you had never gotten a bruise in your life

which was a kind of funny considering that you were had been training in your father’s dojo since you could walk

then again in your world, only when you touched your soulmate would that purple greenish ugly color come up 

and since you were the star pupil of your father’s martial arts dojo, it’s not like it was ever easy to land a punch on you anyways

anyone that ever did never was you soulmate

and they’d be dead meat ‘immobilized’ (if not by your retaliation or your sibling’s overprotectiveness or your father’s judgement, the possibilities were endless)

but the point was, you had never gotten a bruise in your entire life, so you definitely didn’t know what it even looked like until you were changing out of your gi and your older sister pointed out the large bruise on your shoulder

you’re surprised

you hadn’t even felt any pain from it

but as you stand with your back to the mirror looking at it back and forth you wrack you brain for every person that you had come into contact within the last few days

the only person that comes to mind is one of the newest recruits to your father’s dojo, an aggressive punk by the name of Jin Ling

he’s not a good fighter as much as he just fights a lot

but you vividly remember being pushed hard when you had to break a fight between him and another student the other day

you hadn’t realized that he had actually pushed your shoulder then

you figure that you’ll know for sure when he comes to the dojo for practice tomorrow

the next day arrives and when you’re setting up the mats for everyone else, Jin Ling ends up being one of the earlier arrivals

and since no one’s there yet, you end up asking him to do something that you don’t usually ask people

but it feels like the only way to know for sure if he is your soulmate or not

“spar with me” you invite him when he returns to the main room with his uniform on

he’s more than surprised; he’s the new kid on the block, you’re the seasoned veteran and the sensei’s kid

when you sense his hesitation, you egg him on with “nothing to be scared of; i’ll go easy on you”

and when you look at him, you notice how his eyes darken at your jab

even though you’re a brown belt and he’s just teetering around yellow

the dojo ends up welcoming the next batch of students that come in with a very bruised up Jin Ling

you’re a little bit better off, though your hands are a little battered up

there’s no pain, luckily, just the ugly color of the bruise of a soulmate touch

and even when Jin Ling glares at you as your father goes through the forms for the day’s lessons, you know that he can’t deny the marks on him can only be made by you

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Ouyang Zizhen

first words tattooed on your wrist

Zizhen’s always been a bit of a romantic 

living in a society where all the movies play out picture perfect scenes of confessions has given Zizhen all of the back up that he needs in order to be prepared for his soulmate

he’s one of those people that make you read a specific quote he’s set out before initiating conversation (he’s just that prepared)

but what he isn’t prepared for is what he’d be saying to his soulmate

so one dreary autumn morning, when he walks into the cafe you’re working at bleary eyed and sleep deprived

 Zizhen is not in the state of mind to be meeting his soul mate

when he comes up to the register, he begins ordering his usual chai tea latte with all the specific condiments as you listen in

as he’s talking you feel a little tingling on your wrist and don’t think much about it, not even asking him anything else when he quietly hands you his credit card to swipe

you’d always been a quiet person, and your boss was always on your back for not going through all of the employee procedures but you don’t pay that any mind

but anyways, only when you’re in the middle of making his order do you finally realize

you sleeve slips up a little bit as you’re making the tea and you notice a little paragraph written in beautiful swirling script on your wrist

you’d almost burned yourself at the fact and put one and one together

some dude just placed a whole order as your soulmate quote

and you’re angry

when you’ve finished making the chai latte you hold onto the drink tight as the guy from before comes back for his order

but just before he gets it, you snatch the drink far from his grasp and pull down your sleeve showcase your newest soulmate quote

‘i’ll have a medium chai tea latte, light on on the cream with two pumps of vanilla, no water and switch out normal milk with soy milk. also with extra cinnamon”

when Zizhen realizes that you’re his soulmate his very actual soul wants to leave his body because:

the moment that he’s been waiting for has finally come

also you’re so cute!!!

but you face looks stormy and sullen... i mean who wouldn’t be, you just got an starbucks order as your soulmate quote  (and only a very very specific group of people would find a blessing in that and you were not one of them)

you wanna just call him ‘dickhead’ and make it even, but even that seems light in comparison to the entire chai tea latte order that he places on your wrist   

f o r e v e r

but you’re in for a treat, because, Zizhen’s always been a too much of a romantic

you take some time off from your shift to make a plan with this dude, because there was no way that you were gonna read the cheesy soulmate quote that he wanted and have everything be dandy

you learn that Zizhen is his name and that he’s much too romantic; so romantic in fact that he proposes a solution in comparison to your soulmate quote right away

“do you have a favorite recipe or something that you like to eat? you can read the recipe to me so that i’ll have it on my wrist, and i’ll know how to make it!”

he sounds so excited that it lightens the order on your wrist a little

the gesture softens you a bit (read a lot)

but you’re also mildly peeved that every time you look at your wrist its a beautiful beautiful calligraphy of a specific order of chai tea latte

so when you guys begin dating, you give him the silent treatment on your first few outings together

but through every date together, from movies to restaurant, you learn that Zizhen is a very easy going and compassionate guy, easily filling in for the empty space that would have been your voice

similarly, Zizhen wonders and lingers on the sound of your voice, but also finds himself falling deeply for your laugh

it’s amazing the vibe that you guys create together and this is without you talking yet!

after a few weeks of going out together, you’re sat across from him in a small homey cafe when you say your first words to him

in the end, there is no big recipe written on his wrist; you read the exact quote that he wants to have

because you know how much it means to him to have that on his skin

when you’re finished, Zizhen realizes that what he was searching for wasn’t even the perfect quote to be said

it was the fact that the person he had grown to love had said it to him

and even though there’s no recipe etched onto his skin, he has the rest of eternity to remember all of your favorite recipes to the depths of his heart

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