#i fucked up the colors the only set of watercolors i had on me was all pastel shit

[lvl100hummuswarrior]

watercolor simon treat

[tojikai]

Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN

Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Permanent Mark Masterlist

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.

He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.

I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

“She didn’t make it.” 

Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest. 

It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it. 

Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.

The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.

He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you. 

The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.

He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.

And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.

The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love. 

Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.

“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes. 

—---------------------------------

Earlier

You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.

Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.

You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:

You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home. 

Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash. 

And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.

You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb. 

If you are, this is going to be your second death today. 

—---------------------------------

“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.

His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:

“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”

Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too. 

Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.

The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.

Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.

Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.

She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.

“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.

How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her? 

She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.

The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.

Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.

Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning. 

“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him. 

“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.

Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?

The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.

“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.

“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.

The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.

He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.

He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out. 

It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.

Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.

He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you. 

His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold. 

He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.

These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.

Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago. 

It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you. 

Permanent Mark Masterlist

[theboywithburninghands]

So uh... in my last story I sorta implied Pomni was autistic. This is the story that confirms it. I wanted to explore more of her worldview and how she might find ways to pass the time. So this is what came out of it. It's a bit short, but it's personal and sweet and I think you'll like it. Lists T/W: profanity in some of the linked songs? I guess? I hope anyone who reads my stuff has heard the word fuck or shit before...

Pomni paced about her room. Pacing helped her think. She was here indefinitely, and while her boyfriend and girlfriend kept her from slipping too far into existential despair, boredom was a whole different animal. So, after racking her brain for several hours one evening after dinner, she finally settled on the one idea that would offer instant gratification.  

Lists. Lists of what? Well, any kind of list. Chronological lists, best to worst lists and vice-versa, top 100 lists… something about them scratched a hot red itch in her brain. Information could be so overwhelming when it was just flopped in front of you, especially in huge portions. If it was broken up piece by piece based on certain categories, it was far more digestible. You didn’t shove an entire pizza in your mouth, after all, you cut it into slices. Being able to break something down was not only comforting, but satisfying. Maybe that’s why she was so good with numbers…

So, Pomni went to Gangle. She had plenty of paper. Most of her room was covered with drawings of all sorts, done in crayon, colored pencil, watercolors, magic marker, even the odd charcoal. 

“Sure, I can lend you some paper…” Gangle had said with a timid but pleasantly surprised smile. “I didn’t know you liked drawing too, Pomni.” 

Pomni laughed a little. “Um, actually, I was going to make a journal. To keep up with all of the wild stuff that goes on around here, you know…?” 

“Oh, okay! That’s a good idea! I don’t know if I have any regular pencils, but I have some black colored ones. Would that be okay..?” 

Pomni had told her it was perfectly fine, and she went back to her room with ten big sheets of sketchbook paper, three black colored pencils and a red twist sharpener. She made a makeshift desk, the flat side of one of the oversized building blocks in her room and another building block for a chair. No real lumbar support, but eh. Her body was a bunch of pixels anyway. She set her things down tidily, placed one of the sheets in the middle of her desk, and began to write.

She tapped her pencil on her desk. Man, it felt good to have something to fiddle with while she thought… She decided to start with a profile of every other performer in the circus. She began by writing out a quick template, something she could use as a reference so every profile followed the same pattern. After some thinking, she came up with this: 

Name: Their name (duh)

Potential Real Name: Educated guesses on what their real name was before they came here

Likes: Hobbies, favorite foods and candies, favorite people 

Dislikes: Fears, least favorite foods and candies, anything else that bugs them 

Musical Taste: Music I’ve heard them listen to on Layla, or if I’ve asked them. 

*Hobby Related Stuff: See asterisk

Personality: What they’re like. What they’re like to me, others, etc.

*Variable, only if needed for major hobbies

Things like gender or age didn’t matter since she already knew all of those by heart. Personality would be the biggest category obviously… well, the only way to see if it satisfied her was to try it.

So she started with the first person that popped into her head.

Name: Jax 

Potential Real Name(s): Jackson/Jack, John/Jonathan/Johnny, Max/Maxwell, Braxton, First initial J, middle initial A, last initial X, Alexander/Alex, Xavier

Likes: Me, Ragatha, practical jokes, spaghetti and meatballs, lock picking, bowling, Nerds Rope

Dislikes: Corn, bad dreams, condescension, authority, anime, Ayn Rand, black licorice

Musical Taste: Radiohead, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains, Foster the People, Soundgarden, Garbage (the artist), Linkin Park, Flyleaf, whoever wrote that song “Pepper,” Big Black, Bad Brains

Personality: Formerly a bitter, selfish assho-

Hm…

Pomni stopped to think. She had never tried actually writing down a swear word here before. They were never censored in her head, thankfully, but as soon as they left her mouth they were filtered out. 

She picked up her template sheet and wrote “asshole” in the bottom left corner. A few moments later, a black censor bar appeared over it. Pomni smirked ruefully and went back to Jax’s profile, scribbling out the beginnings of her swear word and continuing. 

Personality: Formerly a bitter, selfish jerk. In fact, in some ways, he still is. One of the first adventures I ever went on with him, he threw me out a window between two moving trucks. He kept putting things like tacks and whoopee cushions on my chair at dinner, hid bugs in my room, he was awful…  A few months later, he let me come into his room and talked to me about the law of entropy… He actually said he was sorry for the way he treated me after that. Then he got me my favorite food (honey-glazed garlic salmon), down to the way I like it cooked. I kissed him. He kissed me back. We kissed a lot. We didn’t really know what we were for a while, but it got made clear pretty quickly that we both loved each other.  

Now he’s… better. Not perfect… no one is perfect, but… he’s grown a lot. I don’t know what changed. He told me once he acted like such a bully so people would forget about this whole purgatory situation and be mad at him instead of at the world. I didn’t believe that then and I still don’t. I could ask him, but I don’t know how he’d react. I guess I’ll wait and see.

Anyway. He’s great, really. Underneath that sandpapery outer shell, he’s just as vulnerable and human as the rest of us. He’s funny, he’s charming, he’s handsome… and most importantly, he’s genuine. I love him. 

Pomni smiled at this completed profile and set it aside. She paused to sharpen her colored pencil, the lead on the end worn down to a nub. After it was sufficiently sharp, she grabbed a fresh sheet of sketchbook paper, cracking her knuckles and fixing her posture before getting back to work. 

Name: Ragatha

Potential Real Name: Agatha, Raquelle, Ann/Anna/Annie, Annabelle, Agnes, Anya, Christie

Likes: All of us here- me included, horses, video games, ballet, hugs, stuffed animals.

Dislikes: Centipedes, circus peanuts, ripping her stitches… she doesn’t have a lot of dislikes.

Musical Taste: Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, Smokey Robinson, Tom Petty, Pink Floyd, OutKast, Kendrick Lamar, Joan Jett, Carole King

Video Games She Likes (Heavily Abridged): Dark Souls Trilogy, Final Fantasy VII, Legend of Zelda, Goldeneye, Spyro the Dragon, Bloodborne, Uncharted 2, Assassin’s Creed 2, tons more…

Personality: When I first got here, I thought Ragatha was just being nice to me because I was new. But she just… never stopped being nice. She always had my back, always had something encouraging to say… I left her behind like a coward the first day I was here and she didn’t give up on me. I look up to her.

She’s not perfect. She can be a bit arrogant without meaning to, and she used to let Jax walk all over her, but… well, things are a lot different with Jax now. And I think she helped in some way with that… 

I love her just as much as I love Jax. I couldn’t imagine life without her sweet smile and her cute laugh and her hugs. Oh my god, her hugs! I HATE hugs, but somehow she makes hers incredible. She’s incredible.

Pomni re-read the profile and grinned. Oh, this felt so GOOD. Being able to put her thoughts down and in the form of a neatly organized set of lists. Scraps of order in this world of never ending chaos… She needed to write more.

She sharpened her colored pencil again and started work on Gangle’s profile, breezing straight through it and moving on to the next person. Zooble’s profile wasn’t as complete as the other three so far, since Pomni didn’t know as much about them. She would just have to add more to it the more she found out about Zooble. 

She was a good ways into Kinger’s profile, adding Luna moth to his list of favorite insects, when her eyelids sagged. Pomni grunted and rubbed her eyes. Time must have really gotten away from her. She should ask Caine for a clock. Well… maybe not. Seeing time slowly creep by in this prison would probably do more harm than good. Either way, she must have been writing for an hour or two, it made sense for her to be tired. She went on an adventure that day. 

She decided to take a break, give her brain a chance to wander. She crossed her arms on her desk and laid her head atop them. Sketchbook paper always had a pleasant, ethereal smell to it, like a shaft of sunlight illuminating a shelf of old yellowed scrolls in a castle’s study. She loved that smell. Pomni felt even more at ease. She found something to pass the time, and nobody could stop her. She could write as many lists as she wanted, about anything she wanted. She closed her eyes, the warm, private dark behind her lids the perfect place to imagine what she could write next. 

Within minutes, she was asleep. 

——

The faint yet insistent song of birds woke Pomni up. She blearily opened her eyes, lifting her head up off of her arms, the spots on them where her head rested warm and flushed. Pomni reached a gloved hand to her right eye and rubbed it, something slipping off of her shoulders and drifting politely to the floor. She turned around to find her comforter rumpled about her chair. It must have been draped over her while she slept at her desk. Did she do that..? She turned back to her desk.

 It took her eyes a moment to defog, but everything on her desk was right where she left it, Kinger’s profile stopping at Luna moth. She stretched, a yawn bubbling up and escaping her mouth. She picked her blanket up and made her bed, tempted to flop right back down onto it and get some more sleep. But she needed to organize her things first. 

She yawned into her palm and picked up the completed profiles, tapping the sheaf of papers on her improvised desk so they fell into order. She blinked and examined the top sheet. It was written in purple colored pencil, not her black one, and it definitely wasn’t her handwriting. She held it a bit closer.

Name: Pomni

Potential Real Name: No idea

Nicknames: Pompom, Poms, New Stuff, Newbie, Shorty, Clownface, Jingles

Likes: Jax and Ragatha, Salmon and rice, number puzzles, swimming, long walks, lemon drops, fudge ripple ice cream, cuddling

Dislikes: Hugs from strangers, snakes, spicy candies, cooking, whoopee cushions

Musical Taste: U2, Coldplay, Snow Patrol, Marina and The Diamonds, Regina Spektor, Keane, Ariana Grande, Corinne Bailey Rae, Duffy

Personality: Pomni shouldn’t have lasted long here. She’s a nervous wreck that’s prone to crying, depression, overstimulation and anxiety attacks. We were all a little worried she would abstract early. 

But she never did. She showed everyone that not only is she tougher than she looks, she’s smart as a whip and one of the most courageous people any of us have ever met. She’s a great friend to everyone, and never gave up on even the people here that seemed beyond help.

We all love you, Pomni. 

Pomni set the piece of paper down on her desk. She rubbed her eyes again, her glove coming away flecked with water. She got everything organized, sliding her paper and pencils under her bed. She took the sheet with purple handwriting, folded it neatly, and tucked it into her pillowcase. She rubbed her eyes again, sighed shakily, and opened the door to her room, ready to meet the sunrise. 

[messrrprongs]

obliviate. - a jegulus au by mars.

kinda long so bear with me! so this starts basically in james' second year and reg's first.

"my brother's going to be sorted this year" sirius tells him proudly and james looks as eager as him cause if sirius was this AMAZING to be around, then surely his brother must be the same. and then he's sorted! 'regulus black' - and james sees the similarities immediately,, dark hair, watercolor eyes oh hell he's cute

and in the middle of james' comparison, regulus is sorted into slytherin, putting a barrier between the brothers and a stop to prongs' thought process ab baby black bc at 12, he had that ideology that slytherin was a bad house and regulus was not at all similar to sirius but ofcourse yk time changes everything

third year, he spends more time in the library. regulus does too. mostly silent, pouring over his books. james wonders why he looks so small and vulnerable

fourth year, regulus makes it onto the slytherin quidditch team as their third-year seeker and he's hella good at that, but never show-offy. james wonders why he doesn't like being centre of attention

fifth year, regulus has THE glowup. all baby fat gone, cheekbones that can cut through glass and a sharpass attractive jawline. and was his hair slightly longer too? james wonders why he's never noticed reg's smile before

sixth year, sirius starts talking to his brother more and they bond, spend more time together. regulus seems to notice james for the first time. james still sees the shy little first-year every time he looks at regulus

regulus has a sassy personality, he's mean, he's elusive, he rolls his eyes too much, but james can't see past the fact that his best friend's brother is fucking angelic. james is pretty sure regulus could get away with murder despite having blood on his hands

there's a party, there's laughter, there's drinking. and in the dim lights, the only thing james sees is regulus black because there's nothing more beautiful than watching the candleflames dance like shadows in his eyes, the ghost of pure joy in reg's smile

that year is james' favorite year. they talk, discuss quidditch strategies. when james sees regulus alone in the library, he pulls up a chair and sits with him. even though reg sasses him, he likes that. he learns regulus' favorite color when they're in honeydukes. he discovers regulus' love for astronomy during late-night hangouts. he counts the freckles on reg's face while they spend hot afternoons lying on their backs in the sun. he finds out how perfect their hands fit together like two halves of a whole

they're stupidly in love. regulus starts wearing turtlenecks and no one but remus can tell what the secret glances between james and regulus mean. sirius jokes about regulus hiding a vampire bite on his neck but remus knows it all

james is having the time of his life: secret boyfriend that he's head-over-arse in love with, his best friends, his family, his entire life set before him. everything he could ever wish for. and when sirius finds out, the worst he gets is a smack to the head with a shoe. well, that's the best it gets.

seventh year. regulus is distant, afraid. cheeks hollow, eyes darting, constantly on edge. james worries but never pushes too hard. they still go on dates, of course, but lesser than before - something is holding reg back. "i love you" james says and "i know" he gets in return. and that breaks his fucking heart bc he thinks he's not good enough for regulus. he thinks he's somehow making reg lose interest him and he doesn't want that so he does everything a bit more, tries hard, too hard. pushes himself past the limit.

and regulus can't look him in the eyes when he asks "what's wrong". the sleeve is pulled up, the mark shown, a look of betrayal and not one broken heart, but two. but james has never been one to give up. he tries to convince him but regulus is fixed on it. he doesn't want james to get hurt and live life without him but he doesn't realize that without regulus, james feels like he has nothing to live for.

that night, he's obliviated. that night, the marauders graduate from hogwarts. regulus has another year to come back to, but no james potter. his lifeline hanging by a thread as death and the consequences of his bad decisions loom closer. and james, well, he has his whole life ahead of him, doesn't he?

the paper is printed. the dark lord, vanquished. a young boy killed in service. james thinks he might've known him, seen him at hogwarts but nothing seems to click. he lets go.

james watches his friends get married. he shares their happiness yet, never once looks for his own. too busy as an auror, he makes an excuse - a reason to justify the restlessness of his heart. his friends grow worried.

james forgets a lot. he was once the boy that knew everyone's birthdays, their favorite colors, their everything by heart blindly. now he's a man that can't remember what day it is despite having looked at the calendar a moment before. he's a man that can't remember his own address sometimes. he's a man with strange fuzzy dream of a boy that looks like his best friend. a smile, stolen kisses in greenhouses, holding hands. he forgets his present a lot.

he grows old alone. surrounded by his friends' children. they say he has dementia, a muggle disease. he can't remember who he was sometimes. they wonder why he sits in his armchair in the middle of the night and stares out at the sky, waiting for something he can't remember.

he dies surrounded by his friends and family. it's peaceful, it's quiet. as he takes his final breath and his eyes flutter shut, he feels young again. he opens them again and there's a boy - sirius? no, can't be. he looks younger. an angel? must be. james thinks he's dreaming. the boy holds his hand out with a smile that james had once memorized.

"i'm sorry to make you wait, love."

[attyrocious]

uncle brought over my stack of art school era (2013~) artwork plates thats been gathering dust in my old dorm and i kinda wanna share a few. bear with me almost all of these are abstract shit bc you know...fine arts academia. idk

one of the first plates and single-handedly is to blame for my disdain of drawing straight lines: color mixing chart we have to mix poster color paint for each square and i was poor so i only had the primaries

i had a pretty high grade here iirc but anyway this is so fucking pointless what the fuck am i gonna do with this and now i just hate rulers and ruling pens

---

color theory/scheme plate and im here to announce that yes, turning brain off and adding as much detail as possible has been a decade old technique apparently

principles of design plate?

ngl i still like this one bc look at it

the concept of horror vacui has stayed in my brain and tbf my prof liked it bc it looks like i put effort. i did, technically, but like how i draw now, its just therapeutic to not think and just move hands instead

----

printmaking plates! lino-cut prints, to be exact. many stabbings happened in the making of these. i think the way i do inktobers have been mostly derived from these. and lino-cuts print is something ive been wanting to pursue but its such an expensive and space consuming medium and that makes me sad. anyway,

prompt here is reframing fairy tales into Philippine culture/setting. so hansel and gretel in a sari-sari store

i used OCs for the characters here, and the owner of the' taller boy 'hansel' hasn't been my friend for years now but damnit i still love this concept and she's not ruining this for me

prompt for this one is 'morning'. so here's me in my depression college dorm, booting up for the day. rip to my childhood Buttercup doll, i don't know where you are now

----

last im willing to show is this pest-eaten watercolor landscape painting of UP Lagoon.

look, we had to go out into a mosquito-infested area at 3pm (the start of our watercolor techniques class) and paint this before 5:30 (end of class) but in practice its less than an hour time bc the sun was setting and we can't see shit anymore let alone what color that one flower is.

turned out p good still i think

[cataztrophi]

TAZ November Celebration 9: Missing Pieces

This one is wildly self-indulgent and I had a lot of fun writing it so I think I understood the @taznovembercelebration assignment! My card was "missing pieces," which somehow became a beachy meet-cute and some fairytale prince-ass behavior.

November, Taako had decided, was the best month to go to the beach in New England. At least for painting. All the tourists had moved on to warmer climes, and he had full run of the shoreline to set up his chair and start sketching out that beautiful autumn sunset. The only drawback was the wind. He could usually deal with it if he put his hair up well enough. What he couldn’t deal with was it catching his case at just the right angle to knock it off his lap and send paints flying across the sand. 

Taako leapt to his feet, his mind already doing the calculations on how much it would cost to replace the good watercolors that Lup had bought him for Candlenights last year. Too much, was the answer, and he raced down the beach to rescue his art supplies. In an instant the sand shifted under his feet, and he landed awkwardly on his ankle before crashing to the ground. His leg erupted in instant pain.

“Fuck!” He scrambled up to a sitting position and examined his ankle. It didn’t look broken, but it definitely hurt. He moved it experimentally and sucked in a breath through his teeth. Yep, it definitely hurt. 

“Are you alright?” Taako’s head jerked up towards the voice. He hadn’t expected to see anyone on the beach today, let alone a stranger who was jogging towards him with the purposeful gait of someone who was coming to Fix Things. At this point, Taako could use one of those.

The man dropped to a knee beside him, looking him over with dark, kind eyes. Even in his current distracted state, Taako felt a little flutter in his chest. Those were eyes he could go swimming in. 

“Hey, are you hurt?”

“My paints,” he said miserably, holding up the tubes he’d managed to collect before disaster struck him for a second time.

The stranger’s eyes darted from Taako to the brightly-colored tubes scattered across the beach. “I’ll get them. You stay there, okay? Don’t try to get up.”

Taako watched him chase down the errant paints with the same determined focus of a tiger stalking its prey and couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this balanced out the twisted ankle. He’d have to see how bad the damage was, and how open this guy was to giving out his number. 

He collected all the paints he could find and put them back in their case, which he had retrieved from a little up the beach. He presented them to Taako with the solemnity of a knight presenting his fallen enemy’s sword. 

“I think I got all of them.”

Taako added the few he had grabbed. “You did.” He snapped the case shut and held it against his chest, relief washing over him. “Fuck, you’re my hero.”

“Most people call me Kravitz,” the man replied, although his pleased smile hinted that he might be alright with Taako continuing to call him ‘my hero’. 

“Charmed. I’m Taako.”

“Is it okay if I check you out, Taako?” he asked, gesturing towards his injured ankle. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms that Taako couldn’t help but admire.

“Oh, you can check me out any time, handsome.” 

“What was that?”

Taako smiled sweetly. “Be my guest.”

Kravitz had cold hands. He felt Taako’s ankle gently, checking for damage, with the confidence of a guy who knew what he was doing. Now, if there was one thing Taako was good at, it was making the best of a bad situation. He was the reigning champion of turning half-eaten leftovers into gourmet meals, and faded thrift store donations into runway-worthy Looks. Right now, he might have sand in his skirt and a swollen ankle, but he also had a strikingly handsome man administering what appeared to be highly competent first aid, and he knew an opportunity when he saw one.  

“Do you spend a lot of time here?” Kravitz asked as he continued his examination. 

“One of my favorite spots this time of year. Summer, though, it’s too crowded for Taako.”

He nodded. “I feel you. Sometimes you just want to have a nice walk or a swim without a hundred people and twenty-five blaring Bluetooth speakers.”

“Oh my god, right? I thought we fixed this problem when we invented headphones!”

“Exactly!”

Taako shifted a little, leaning back on his hands to see Kravitz’s face better. “Next summer, you leave it to Taako. I know all the best hidden beaches. You wouldn't believe how gorgeous some of them are.”

“I imagine it's quite a sight,” he said quietly. The way he looked Taako over told him that Kravitz wasn't picturing the pristine beaches and crashing waves. He grinned and reclined a little further.

“So, Kravitz, what brings you here on a windy day like this?” 

“It’s a good place to decompress. You know, get away from things for a bit.” He moved Taako’s foot around a little, and Taako inhaled sharply as the pain stabbed into his joint. “Sorry. I’m just going to take your shoe off, okay?”

“Kravitz, I just met you! What will the neighbors say?” He gave Kravitz his best performance of scandalized horror, complete with pearl-clutching, and Kravitz laughed as he began working Taako’s shoe off his foot.

“What- ow!- What are you decompressing from?”

“Well, my job can get a little stressful.” He looked up from his examination and smiled. Taako was pretty sure that Kravitz’s smile would cure his seasonal affective disorder. Hey, handsome, what are you doing for the next three months and are you available to just stand there and beam at me for six to eight hours per day? “I'm an EMT.”

Taako blinked. Was this some sort of cosmic refund from the Universe to make up for all the other bullshit? “Huh. Must be my lucky day.” 

“Must be mine, too,” Kravitz said. Then a panicked look came over his face. “I mean, it's not lucky you got hurt, it's just, you know, nice meeting you.”

He was adorable when he got flustered. Taako couldn’t wait to see what else he could fluster him with. 

“Well, am I gonna live?” Taako asked as Kravitz sat back on his heels.

He grinned. “You seem tough, I think you'll make it. It looks like a pretty minor sprain, or strain. It should get better with rest and some ice.” His voice shifted slightly to a tone of gentle but firm authority. Work voice, Taako assumed. No big, he had one, too. “Now, I wouldn’t bother going to a doctor unless you don’t see an improvement in the next few days. Odds are he’ll say the same thing I just did, and I don’t know what your insurance is like….”

“Cha’boy works at a cafe, so, bad.”

Kravitz grimaced. “Right. So like I said, just ice and rest for now. If it doesn’t get better, or if it starts feeling worse, then you should definitely see a doctor. Things like this happen all the time, but if it doesn’t heal properly it could cause some issues down the line.”

Taako nodded, calculating how bad it would have to get before he saw a doctor, and realizing his foot would have to fall off first.

He was pulled from these dire musings when Kravitz started to talk again. “The big thing is, I don’t want you to put any more weight on it than you have to, especially on difficult terrain like this.”

“It would help to have a strong arm to lean on,” he said, in his best damsel in distress impression.

Something sparked in Kravitz’s eyes, a sort of confidence that hadn’t been there before. “I mean, we could do that, but it would probably be easier if I just carried you. If you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

Taako felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Clearly they were in Kravitz’s wheelhouse now, and he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to show off a little. Well, who was he to stand in his way?

“Listen, Taako’s not going to argue with a medical professional.”

Kravitz’s smile widened. “Very wise of you. Now if you just sort of bend your knees….” He gently placed one hand under Taako’s knees and the other behind his back. There was a moment of disorienting movement, and then Taako was in his arms, his heart pounding so hard he was worried Kravitz could feel it. He slipped one arm around Kravitz’s neck, blushing fiercely as he realized how close together their faces were now. 

Oh, cool. So Kravitz was just carrying him around like a fucking fairytale prince now. He could feel the muscles of Kravitz’s chest pressed against his side, and he barely seemed to be straining, despite the fact that he was holding a full-grown adult in his arms. Kravitz was clearly a little breathless about the situation as well. He gazed down at Taako with half-lidded eyes, even darker now as his pupils expanded.

“You good?” Kravitz asked, his voice so soft that Taako wanted to wrap himself up in it like a blanket.

“I’m fucking fantastic, my man. You just made all of teenage Taako’s Superman fantasies come true.”

Kravitz laughed, and Taako could feel the movement in his chest. “Had a lot of those as a teen, did you?” He started up the hill, careful of each step.

“Didn’t everybody?”

“Well, some of us saw Interview with the Vampire at an impressionable age and never fully recovered.” Taako raised an eyebrow, looking at Kravitz’s distinctly goth-inflected clothing choices. 

“Looks like it had quite an impact.” He leaned in close and let his lips just brush over Kravitz’s neck, smiling as he heard his breath hitch.

“Taako, if you make me drop you I am not liable.”

“Guess I'll save it for later, then,” he sighed.

“Later?” Kravitz tried to keep his tone casual, but Taako could hear the hopeful note in his voice.

Taako shrugged and began tracing patterns over Kravitz’s chest with one finger. “You came heroically to my rescue, I figure it’s only fair I pay you back somehow.”

Kravitz stopped dead. “And, uh, what did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice suddenly rougher than before. 

Taako brushed his lips over the same spot on Kravitz’s neck, then kissed it in earnest. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.” Kravitz exhaled shakily as Taako pressed kisses up his throat, then over his jawline. 

“You do, um-” He swallowed and tried again. “You do remember that I told you to avoid anything strenuous, right?” Taako drew back for a moment and was delighted to find Kravitz gazing down at him with something approaching hunger on his face.

“No, you only told me to avoid putting weight on my ankle,” he said cheerily, planting a kiss next to his ear. “And I can think of plenty of ways to do that. On my knees, for example. I could-”

“Taako!” He could feel the heat radiating off of Kravitz’s face. He looked up at him with his best innocent smile.

“Yes?”

Kravitz shook his head, trying to suppress a grin. “You know, I’m half-convinced you’re some sort of mer-creature that’s going to drag me to a watery grave the minute you get the chance.” 

Taako nipped at Kravitz’s throat, not entirely averse to the image of himself as a murderous sea tempter. “Would that change the math for you, stud?”

Kravitz thought for a moment, seeming to earnestly consider it, although Taako guessed he wasn’t helping by working his way back up Kravitz’s neck with his teeth. “Not as much as it should, probably.”

He pulled back from Taako’s teeth and looked him over with those eyes that Taako could just get lost in. “From where I’m standing it looks like it might be worth the risk.”

Taako felt the blush spreading over his face again. Before he could respond Kravitz bent his head down to kiss him full on the lips. It was sweet and tender and Taako found himself lifting his hand to Kravitz’s cheek, and he wondered if Kravitz was some strange kind of siren himself, because he may have started this as a fun flirtation but suddenly he could see himself waking up next to him tomorrow morning, and the day after that, and holding his hand in restaurants and doing all the disgustingly romantic things that no one ever seemed to stick around for. The thought was scarier than he could have imagined. But then again, it might be worth the risk.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

quicksilver water and the color

I obsess over the vison in my mind for a finished composition

like watercolor pencils I use to draw the energy lines

the moment I dip the brush into the sea to bring life

I bring it down like tears to the color that become vibrant

I smooth the composition too much

I forget to trust the frequency of my original energy

it's so fucking frustrating but it's a habit

another thing to add on my list of things to break

questioning myself and my inspired action

never comforts me nor does it help a situation

blaming myself for mistakes never seems to have the effect

of preventing me from making more of them

everything you lose is a step you take forward

at night before sleep I sing lullabies to my daughter

she's the only one who still wants them

the boys like the songs when they are sick or

for some reason feel powerless or need comfort

but my daughter had crafted a whole ritual of it

I draw a figure eight on her back as I sing

one she recognizes as the symbol of eternity

sometimes she sings with me or just listens

and she's told me often she uses the song to comfort herself

whenever she feels worried or sad that I'm away

she reminds me of the grace I show so easily to her

but keep from myself especially in times of uncertainty

but I'm learning to draw that figure eight on my own skin

especially now that I'm confronting fears that slip

into my mind as a shadow to tease my thoughts into a frenzy

of possible failure or incompletion or being able to

finish just one damn thing I set out to do

I'm proving everything to myself by surrendering

but every damn deity knows the ability to surrender is

more difficult for one who has always swam against the current

what does it mean to release and flow into something

I've been fighting to believe or even hope for?

why is it scarier than a slow sort of drowning?

maybe I need to turn myself so I flow forward

watch the surrender unfold instead of peeking over

my shoulder as I float backward in the water

maybe it's all about orientation

maybe I just need to adjust and turn

like trimming my sails to the wind so the fabric

can catch and harness the forces of nature

is my body not an instrument of nature?

inhale deeply and take too quick breaths at the top

exhale slowly with more time to trick my body into

some state of regulation as I stretch my limbs

I feel better after some dancing and I promised myself

I'd dance yesterday but got caught up in all the other tasks

you find your spirit whenever you're dancing

close your eyes and embody the music and turn off the mind

I've always had trouble doing that so I need to practice

I must become the breath and release the structure

I only created to feel some sense of control

surrender surrender surrender

[goddesswitchmother]

More thoughts for the ikevamp fanfiction! Enjoy or not, I don't care. I'm doing this for me, and if others happen to enjoy as well, then that's a bonus. Yeah, I'm saying this more for myself than anything as I'm a recovering people pleaser. Sometimes, I just need to remind myself to have fun be myself and not worry about what others think of me .

Desperation pt 3

I hate him. I fucking hate him. But perhaps I shouldn't have slapped his stupid face. My hand 😭. "Theodorus Van Gogh, I fucking hate you. I've known you all of four days and I already hate you. I've never, and I mean NEVER, hated someone before. You haven't once even tried to get to know me. You've done nothing but judge me, insult me, bully me, and have make all sorts of assumptions about my character and yet you don't know the first thing about me. I don't know how you call yourself an Art Dealer because you have proven countless times already you don't have what it takes. You're a piece of shit and I hope you prove me wrong because I really don't like hatred and I don't think it's merely because it's a foreign feeling." I rant angrily as he just gawks at me with that stupid look on his face.

"Also, you'd have to be simultaneously deaf, blind, and stupid to confuse you for Vincent. You are absolutely nothing alike whatsoever, and if I didn't already know better, I would never guess you were related. Vincent, I'm sorry you had to see me like this. I really valued your friendship, and I have no intention of dating you. However, I understand if you no longer want to be friends." I added this time in tears. Fuck I'm so embarrassed. So I did what I do best, and I ran. A part of me was aware that I had an audience. I vaguely noticed just about everyone had ended up in the gardens, probably drawn in by my outburst. The only ones not there were Isaac, Napoleon, Mozart, Leonardo, and Sebastian. I made it to my room uninterrupted and threw myself into bed to bawl my eyes out. I feel so pathetic.

Once I had managed to stop crying, I mindlessly sought out one of the few comforts I managed to bring with me. I set up my watercolor book on the desk with my watercolor paints, several brushes, and the untouched glass of water from the nightstand. As an afterthought, I grabbed my mixed media book, my colored pencils, and markers just in case.

I don't know how long I spent tearing pages out and throwing them on the floor. All of them bearing finished paintings or drawings that I just didn't like. Any works left on the desk were unfinished concepts that I couldn't put together. However, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. And then the door was opened. I didn't bother checking to see who it was. "You haven't even touched your dinner. I hope you aren't planning on skipping breakfast, too. We can't have that." I was shocked back into reality then. "What?! But I only just ate breakfast a few hours ago." I really started looking around then. Sebastian quickly approached me and tilted my head up to look at him. "Uh...." I was unsure what I wanted to say. Whatever it was could wait, though. The way Sebastian was intensely studying me with concern overwhelmingly obvious in his gaze. I never had anyone worry so much about me before that it rendered me speechless. I suddenly felt the urge to cry that I violently squashed it down, hoping he didn't notice. He cleared his throat and glanced around at the mess I created. "You just might be as bad as Leonardo at losing track of time. Just yesterday, I brought you lunch, but you were crying. I don't know if you remember, but you refused lunch. You promised you'd eat dinner if I brought it to you. However." He explained, gesturing to the platter of dinner sitting neglected on the tray near the bed. I blushed as I vaguely remembered something like that. "I'm sorry. Let me clean up this mess, and I'll eat breakfast out there so you can be certain I eat." I offer hastily getting up. "Oh, I'll pick these up, if you don't mind. Just go wash up and perhaps change your attire, and I'll have your place at the dining table set." He offered, already carefully stacking the papers from the floor neatly into his arms. Damn he works quickly and efficiently. I make a noise of agreement and grab a random outfit before rushing to my bathroom.

(images sourced from pinterest)

I had quickly washed my face and brushed my hair and teeth and applied deodorant. You know the usual. But the whole time I was disturbed by how pale I was as well as the shadows around my red rimmed eyes. When I finished dressing I went to grab my makeup to see Sebastian had the same idea. "Hope you don't mind, I just thought that you were looking a little pale and sleep deprived." I just smiled gratefully. "You're a life saver." I say as I rush off to do my makeup.

(Images sourced from pinterest)

(My eyes are actually amber, though, so imagine that.)

I managed to improve my mood and started feeling my self-confidence boost by the time I made it to the dining room. Sure enough, Sebastian was just setting down my plate stacked high with the French toast and sausage I requested. A glass of hopefully cranberry apple juice joining them. "Ooh, looks delicious, thank you, Sebby." I say happily. I see his back straighten up. "Sebby, huh? Do I get a nickname, luv? Also, you look absolutely ravishing. Are you -" "Yeah, yeah, Arty-boy, I'm not wearing sweats today, so I'm definitely trying to seduce you." I interrupt, voice heavily dripping with sarcasm. "So hard to believe a woman can dress up for her own happiness." I mutter, stabbing a sausage onto my fork. Out of my peripheral, I see theo opening his mouth like he's about to say something. "Now shut up. I'm hungry." I add not to anyone in specific.

[escherbug]

YEAR OF THE GRUB - PROJECT 2: WATERCOLOR

Date completed: 3/3/2023

Craft store trips: 0

I'm a person who really values control and polish in my work, so media where you have to "let go" of your vision for a piece because of the way it works really scares me!

Watercolor is like sticking my foot into those media for later because it's close enough to creative processes I'm already familiar with (pencil, pen and ink, marker, etc) but still has a lot of ground I've never even touched.

First, obviously, I started with sketches from reference and iterating on them until I got some shapes and looks I was satisfied with. My last project didn't quite capture the annulations in the way I'd hoped, and the legs were too long once I looked at reference again.

I ended up with two sketches to paint, one as a backup in case I totally fucked up the first one. It went okay, and I think I'll still paint and show the second one later with what I learned from painting this one, but I think I'll just do it on my own time rather than as a YotG post project.

Like I said, I'm not used to painting, so this part was a lot of guesswork. I started with a wash because I'd heard and seen that it's a good idea and sets the tone for your piece, but I don't think I understood well enough and will need to go back and learn more. I probably didn't even stretch the paper right, haha! I had a lot of problems with paint pooling in wrinkles.

I don't have a lot to say about how it went from here, but I probably should have done all my painting in consistent lighting. I think this coloration would be perfect for painting a pupa, but it's not at all the beautiful milky color of a grub. I rushed this a little out of my own impatience as well as running late yet again, but you know and I know that's not a big deal. I'll take the second grub a little slower and apply everything I've learned doing this one.

THOUGHTS AND IDEAS:

I need to go back and review some basics of watercolor, including how to treat the paper so I don't run into pooling problems.

I need to use better brushes. I ran into a lot of trouble with the cheapo Artist's Loft brushes shedding hairs into my watercolors and onto my piece, making it difficult to control some of my finer strokes and generally making the process feel less pleasant.

I should work looking at reference for more than just the sketching process. I felt like by now I understood what a grub looks like, but it turns out that I was still preoccupied with how I THOUGHT it should look than what the colors actually express as.

I need to work in consistent lighting. Watercolor is an iterative process that you need to come back to a bunch of times to lay down rich color layer by layer, and if the light changes you may accidentally make a color WAY too dark and be too far gone by the time you realize to fix it.

I really struggle with color, so practicing this can only help. I want to start learning to mix palettes from a more limited selection of paints for a more cohesive color story.

Next month (this month) I'm learning a completely new set of skills, which should be ok since I have a whole week off on my own to work on it. Hopefully I'll be back here at the end of March with my next project:

USING BLENDER TO CREATE A MODEL FOR 3D PRINTING

[softlyfiercely]

FOR THoSE FOLLOWING THE #EASTERBASKETS SAGA

I can happily report that while it was still a bit of a clusterfuck, it was a clusterfuck in predictable and unavoidable ways, for which I was prepared for, and

I TOTALLY PULLED IT OFF.

So, initially, I'd decided to make the "Easter Gift Making" event begin at 1:00 in the afternoon on Holy Saturday. I chose this time because it would have been a major hassle to include lunch in the program but it needed to be early enough in the day to allow time for drivers to deliver them but also not require people to wake up early on a Saturday, so can't be "after breakfast before lunch."

(Church programming for children and families almost always includes food, so I either needed to meet that expectation or explicitly buck it)

HOWEVER

All the schools in this area happen to be on spring break THIS WEEK, so like 90% of the most engaged, involved children & families were like "sorry we won't be there for any Holy Week stuff"

(this has caused some Consternation re: children's involvement in Maundy Thursday and Palm Sunday and Good Friday stuff, so, it's just been part of the larger situation surrounding The Easter Baskets)

so, I'd only heard from two families that they were coming, and it's two kids who are friends, so then one family said they actually had a conflict at 1:00 but could come at 11:00, I was like you know what, sure. we'll be there at 11:00.

But of course there still has to be something for kids who arrive at 1:00 to do, because that WAS the initially set time for the event, and we don't technically require RSVPs, it's just that things are so shoestring right now that it comes down to stuff like this.

so I tell the other family "hey, if your kid comes at 1:00, they might be the only one there, but their friend will be there at 11:00" and they were like ok cool we can actually change our plans

so then at 11:00 I just set up with two kids and we got going.

unfortunately if you remember from chapter one of this saga i am inexplicably sharing on tumblr, the whole activity of "making the easter gifts" was designed to be something where a bunch of kids (6-12 is the average attendance at these things) can have a good time making them. so it was just very different Vibes. and we set up in the kitchen where one kid's mom was setting up for tomorrow's Easter Brunch instead of the usual children's programming space, and we just got to it

the two kids had a great time, they got to be very involved and hands-on. and the Easter gifts got made and they were lovely - I wish I could have taken a photo for y'all but there would be no way to show them to you without being somehow identifying.

we cut and tied ribbons around the jars. they filled the jars with water and arranged the flowers in the jars. then they put these watercolor flower stickers on some pastel colored gift bags I'd gotten.

then they colored in cards that i had made, which had a FUCKING TASTEFUL AND CUTE, NOT BANANAS "Happy Easter" line drawing with crosses and bunnies that the kids could color in, and then on the inside it said "my name is" "i am years old" "my Easter prayer for you is" and the kids, in their adorable little kid handwriting and spelling, wrote their names, their ages, and their Easter prayers which were things like "we are thikig of you" and "haav a joyful easter"

and then they helped me make sure one of each thing that i had prepared earlier (chocolate bar, Easter bulletin, "scriptural item," and card signed by priest) was in each bag.

as a bonus, because we only had two kids, and one of the kids belonged to the parent who was there prepping tomorrow's brunch, she just kind of fed us lunch from the leftovers of what she was making, so the food thing actually totally worked out

then, of course I had to wait until 1:00, and sure enough, a family showed up with their two kids, and by then the other two kids had left for their other engagements, so it was awkward in that way of "yay...you're the only ones here..." but I was prepared for that as much as I could be, and so we set up with the cards and they made some more cards, and we added them to the bags.

and i got some quality one-on-one time with the kids, who haven't been around as much so I don't know them as well, and we had some good bonding, and the cards they made were really sweet (they were a bit older than the other kids, the children's program is all ages 5-11 which is a wide developmental range)

and THEN, THE DELIVERIES which were an absolute fucking NIGHTMARE last year, but they went so smoothly.

There was one address that was pretty far out and I was worried about finding a driver for that, but then a friend of that guy's just emailed me like "hey I'll take his basket" (THEY'RE NOT BASKETS) so that was a problem solved. and then i lined up some volunteers for deliveries, but one of them dropped out last minute which would have sucked EXCEPT that the family that came late/on time was like oh we wanted to deliver some, so i got to be like oh sure yes definitely! here is a formational participation opportunity just for you!!!

and one of the other delivery volunteers sent me an email afetrwards thanking me for organizing this and saying she'd had a great time delivering them and wished she'd signed up for more!

augh - i'm just, i'm good at my job, y'all. i figured out how to make this a positive, formational, community building experience for all involved despite some pretty major challenges!

now...on to the sunrise vigil! at which i will be performing a poem! that i wrote! just now! aaahhh!

[littlewalken]

Dec 16

Pondering yet another redraft of the boy band story. I know when I fleshed out this latest version from just notes earlier this year there were some places that I still left as notes because nothing was coming then.

Don't know if today we're going out and doing real life or staying home and making wither soup or casserole with peas.

If I do some serious arting I need to do it on the big paper. I need to put in the practice for the next round of colored and watercolor pencil tests. Part of that should be deciding if there are brands I want to bother testing.

One of the things is if I am going to use the Spectrum Noir 120 watercolor set I might have to swatch them all again. I had swatches that must have got ruined or something during the fucked up year that was 2021 because I don't have them now. They're decent pencils but the set is like too big and I'd sell it at a reasonable price because it's one of those I don't want but don't want to just give away, know what I mean, unless it's to a literally starving art student with promise like I was because who knows what I could have done if I had my hands on decent supplies earlier than I did.

Health wise experiments with adding a protein powder drink look promising. I break up the two scoops in to two separate drinks int he morning and afternoon. Perhaps I should say that unlike the blood builder pills my body is more at ease with these.

Expression of depression after the picture

While dealing with those older unpleasant thoughts that like to pop up, I hope you don't know what I mean, by declaring a moratorium on them is steadily working I am finding myself getting in to thought loops and I am uncertain if it's because I am getting a better handle on a life time of a brain trained by my environment for a very long time to be a certain way or it's the combination of long term and seasonal depressions, or all of that.

And still feeling like I'm never heard, literally and figuratively, outside this blog has to be some of it.

This is why I hate moving, I said the same address for the place however many times, you're repeating numbers I didn't even mention, and then it's on me when you drive by where the place should have been, and oh, finally you figure you might have copied the address wrong but only because the paper you wrote it on is with us.

If the Life Ruiner was still part of the unit it would be my fault anyway because if she had to be right I had to be wrong.

My brain doesn't need any help telling me I'm a piece of shit, I've known that since 1980 at least.

[fruitcoops]

Skip to the Good Part

@oknutzyweek prompt #5: Harvard II NOLA! Some pure fluff for you tonight <3 Cubs belong to @lumosinlove!

“Yes, yes, its very exciting, I promise the inside is still revolting, come on.”

Leo laughed as Finn heaved him down the sidewalk with one hand, the other laced tightly with Logan’s while they stumbled after him. The frat house apparently looked similar enough to how they had left it that it didn’t require more than a glance to appreciate—Leo wouldn’t have minded seeing the place his boyfriends fell in love, to be honest, but he supposed they had plenty of time to come back. After the Cup, Finn and Logan were practically gods to the new generation of OKN boys.

 “It’s not going anywhere,” Logan grumbled, jamming his free hand deeper in his pocket. “We don’t have to fucking sprint.”

“Shut up, we’re almost there.”

Harvard was beautiful in the snow, all high Gothic peaks and sweeping avenues for students to trudge through the slush. Finn skidded several times on black ice in his haste, but managed to keep his feet under himself enough to remain upright and drag the two of them through snowdrifts like a one-man dog sled for all to see. His cheeks and nose were bright red from the cold; Leo hoped he would get a chance to warm both with some well-earned kisses.

“Alright,” Finn panted when they turned into the main square. His eyes darted from corner to corner, and then they came to an abrupt stop. “Okay, perfect. Great! Kiss me.”

Leo blinked. Unexpected. “Which one—”

“Both,” Finn prompted with an impatient tug of their hands. Logan glanced over and Leo could read his amusement like a favorite book. Finn whined again, looking back where they had come from. “Let’s go, group kiss time. Lo, be middle.”

“That’s only fun in bed,” Logan informed him while he let Finn maneuver him into the correct place. “I look short when you do this.”

“Fine, I’ll be middle. Knutty, stand there and look pretty. Excellent, just like that.”

“I didn’t move.”

“No, I know.”

Leo’s blush warmed his frozen face and he ducked his chin into his scarf to hide it. Blaming red cheeks on the cold was never a reasonable excuse back home, but old habits die hard, he figured. Finn’s roguish grin only faltered when he kissed them each on the cheek before ushering Logan closer and pulling his phone out.

His bright eyes landed on Leo, the same color as the cobblestones beneath them. He looked happier than Leo had ever seen when Harvard was involved. “I’m gonna kiss you, ready?”

Leo leaned closer and nudged their noses together. “Always.”

He closed his eyes and melted under Finn’s mouth like fresh snow in the sun; one long arm draped over his neck and he heard the telltale sound of Logan kissing the sharp angle of Finn’s jaw before the camera clicked. They lingered there, though, Finn pulling away to cup Logan’s face in one hand and kiss him softly around a smile while Leo held them both close around the waist. After a whole summer in New Orleans, their body heat was entirely necessary for a proper adjustment to northeastern cold.

Finn hummed into the chaste kiss, then stepped back with a last bite to Logan’s lower lip. His freckles stood stark against his pale skin and rosy cheeks. Leo wanted to kiss each and every one. “Did you get the picture?”

“The what?” Finn’s gaze dragged down to his lips before his brows shot up and Logan rolled his eyes. “Oh! Oh, yes, I think so.”

It only took a single glance for Leo to understand their rush to reach the square. The setting sun hung just below his own shoulders, highlighting his hair in orange and peach while gold lined Logan like lead for stained glass. His green eyes looked otherworldly in that light. Finn’s face was partially shadowed, but what they could see was illuminated in a watercolor of warm tones. The hand he had placed on the back of Leo’s neck to deepen the kiss blended seamlessly with the soft pinks of the sunset. Finn had captured the moment of a catching breath, a practiced touch, a teasing tilt of lips.

“You can see the buildings,” Logan murmured, almost to himself. The street signs and rooftops looked like they had come from a postcard for Harvard Square—he reach out to touch, then stopped himself and looked to Finn. “I want this framed.”

Finn’s pleased blush deepened. “Yeah?”

“Seconded.” Leo drew Logan closer and kissed the top of his head, and silently marveled at how well he fit into his side. “Right under the one on the porch.”

Beneath his heavy coat, Finn’s chest hitched. Leo knew it was his favorite of all the pictures in the house—the three of them on his parents’ big porch, tan and glowing with happiness. Leo had been kissing Logan in that one, who looked halfway to a swoon. His own face in the Harvard picture wasn’t much different.

“Okay.” A grin split Finn’s face and he bounced on his toes. “Okay, we can do that. Are you sure?”

Logan grabbed the front of his coat with both hands and dragged him down for a bruising kiss that made Finn’s knees visibly buckle. “There’s my answer,” he said when they parted, leaving one last peck to the corner of Finn’s open mouth. Logan surveyed his face, then cuffed him lightly on the side of the head; Leo stifled a snort. “Don’t undersell your skills around me or I’ll keep kissing you.”

Finn stared at him, then licked his lips and shook his head. “That is not the threat you think it is.”

[poppywrites41]

Kingdom of Lilies Ch. 6 (King Eren Yeager x Fem! Reader)

Hello my lovely Poppies! Here is chapter 6!! Thank you all so much for being patient with me!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it! The FEELINGS FINALLY COME OUT

MDNI 18+ ONLY

The artwork is mine

Masterlist

Previous

Next

Warnings: Death, excessive Violence, Language, smut (kinda?),

A N G S T, eventual fluff, FEELINGS

Disclaimer: I do not own any character from the AOT universe

Second Disclaimer: In this chapter, there will be descriptions of Eren that, now that I have read it over, make him seem like he has DID (Dissociative identity disorder). I want everyone to know that he does not have DID nor am I trying to use DID in a negative way. Here is a description of DID.

A mental health condition, people with dissociative identity disorder (DID) have two or more separate personalities. These identities control a person’s behavior at different times. DID can cause gaps in memory and other problems. Various types of psychotherapy can help people manage the symptoms of DID.

I cannot stress enough that I am not in any way shape or form implying that Eren has DID. He is just moody and the characters in this fic give his moods names. he is still the same person, just extra moody.

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Eren's eyes glinted with satisfaction as he watched the blood gush from Colt’s neck, red blossoming through his clothes. It was sickeningly beautiful. It reminded him of the watercolor paints he would watch his mother use while she painted. How the colors would dance freely when the brush touched water. To many people, the scene Eren was watching would sicken them but to him, he reminisced in the memories of his beloved mother. All the trauma, the anger, the thirst for revenge built up for years will do that to a person. It will morph into something sinister. Something dangerous. For Eren, it was like another person had taken over his body. Another personality. A demon. A bloodthirsty, ravenous demon. He’s usually ‘coherent’ when this ‘personality’ comes out. Usually, he regrets what he does but as of late, he’s come to accept what he has become. Hearing that Y/N’s parents were working with Zeke again made Eren realize that he will no longer be a forgiving person. He’s waited on his brother for years to come back home. To forgive him for causing their parents such heartbreak only to witness their deaths at his hand. He’s forgiven Y/N’s parents for helping his brother by letting them keep their kingdom alive only to hear that they are still plotting his demise. But what really set him off was that Y/N, his wife, tried to keep a man who was working with his brother alive. She cried over another man in front of him and it angered him. He let out a chilling laugh at the convulsing man who was trying to cover his throat in an attempt to keep the blood from gushing out.

“Oh my!” he smirked down at the man, “Still trying to hold onto your life? Do you perhaps regret whose side you decided to pledge your allegiance to?”

All Colt could do was glare at the king as blood began to dribble out of his mouth.

Eren hummed as he kneeled in front of the man, “No I guess not. You Marleyans are quite stubborn. Honestly I thought that my wife wasn’t but now I guess she is. She’s usually so tame. So… compliant.”

The king smirked when he noticed the man’s eyes flashed with more hatred than fear at the mention of Y/N, “Oh? I struck a nerve. Do you care for her? Do you… love her?” Eren didn’t need any form of answer from the former knight. The way Y/N cried for him and how Colt spoke to her told him everything he needed to know. There were unspoken feelings between the two…. and it pissed him off greatly. It made him wish he didn’t give Colt such a fatal wound. Suddenly, the man ceased all movements, his hands falling limp against his body, eyes dulling as the life leaves them.

“Even dead you fucking piss me off!” Eren growled. He gripped his sword in a tight grip and slashed the body over and over again, ignoring the blood splattering off his blade onto his clothing. How dare they for going behind his back again. Slash. How fucking dare they to think he wouldn’t find out. Slash. How dare they place spies in his kingdom. Slash. How dare this man show such care to Y/N. Slash. How dare Y/N for showing such sympathy for him. Slash. How dare Y/N cry for him. Slash. Thump! Eren paused when he felt something roll against his foot. He looked down only to make eye contact with two lifeless eyes looking up at him. Eren scoffed and kicked the head away from him, “Should’ve done this before I slit your throat. Could’ve gotten more screams.” He took out a cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood off his sword, ignoring all the blood staining his clothes. “Well,” he said to the headless corpse as he sheathed his sword, “thank you for your cooperation. You have been…useful.”

Eren swiftly exited the cell, heading to find either Erwin or Levi. When he walked through the door to the entrance of the dungeon, his guards stood at attention, immediately following their king’s swift pace. They didn’t bother to say anything about Eren’s appearance nor that they completed their task of taking Y/N back to her room. They knew not to say anything when their king is angered at something unless spoken to.

“My wife?” Eren hissed.

“I-In her room sir,” one of them stammered.

Eren grunted in response, “Where is Erwin?”

“He’s with Captain Levi at the training grounds.”

“Erwin! Levi!”

The men halted their sparring when they noticed their king walking toward them.

“Shit,” Levi muttered when he noticed the blood on Eren, “He’s in a mood…”

“Levi,” Erwin warned, “Don’t set him off even more.”

“I got him to talk,” Eren said, “Robert and Elise are still working with Zeke and I found out where he is hiding.”

“Her highness got him to talk?” Erwin asked, “How?”

Eren quirked a brow at the commander, “How did you know?”

“Who do you think?” Levi sighed, “She found us after you sent her out saying that they had some sort of relationship from the past.”

“It was a relationship indeed,” Eren growled, “But he spilled everything out to her. Zeke plans to retake Marley the night of my ball. There are Marleyan spies within the castle that plan to take Y/N back to Marley when that happens.”

Erwin looked shocked, “We need to gather every person in the castle and question them.”

“No,” Eren said, “We are going to straight to where Zeke is immediately and take him out. I’ll have that prisoner’s head on a spike in the courtyard for all to see. The spies will know that I know they are here.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, “She agreed to get information out of him knowing you were going to kill him.”

“She was on a need-to-know basis.”

“She saw you kill him?! She saw you kill someone she knew?!” Levi growled.

“Levi!” Erwin said, trying to calm the captain down.

“I had her taken back to her room before I did it!” Eren said.

“Oh my god, Eren!” the captain hissed, “You took it too far…”

“I took it too far?” Eren hissed, “She wanted me to keep him alive! He had been talking to some of the spies in the castle! If I let him live, something bad would have happened here! Because she knew him, she was fucking considering going with him!”

“Would you stop letting your anger get the best of you?!” Levi shouted, shaking off Erwin’s hands trying to hold him back, “Would someone who gave up everything to protect her people to marry you do that?! Would someone who so clearly loves you do that to you?! Are you fucking blind, Eren?! I’ve seen her stressing about making sure your anniversary ball is planned perfectly. Do you really think she would do that?”

Eren just stared down at the dark-haired man after his outburst. He couldn’t think of anything to say back to him and it pissed him off.

“Tell our men that we are leaving first thing in the morning,” Eren said to his Commander, “No one else can know we are leaving other than Hange, Pixis, and Armin. I want Pixis to have the castle locked down when we leave. No one can leave or enter. Send someone out to let Hannes know to lock down the castle in Marley now. No one can leave or enter until we get there after we deal with Zeke.”

“Of course,” Erwin replied.

Eren nodded and left for the castle.

“You’re lucky to still be alive,” Erwin hissed at his subordinate.

“No,” Levi growled, “He’s lucky to still be alive.”

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Eren walked through the halls with one thing on his mind. He needed to have a word with his wife. He needed answers. He ignored the worried looks on the maids' faces as he made his way through the halls to Y/N’s room. He could hear them whispering amongst themselves, wondering if they will copulate while he is drenched in blood. While it normally bothered Eren that they concerned themselves with his and his wife’s sexual activity, he was actually intrigued by this idea. Y/N squirming underneath him while he fucks her into oblivion while drenched in her lover’s blood after killing him almost an hour before. The sadistic scenario in his head made him hard.

As he approached her door, she saw Historia closing the door behind her. She looked up to see her lady’s husband approaching with an angered look on his face. She let out a gasp in surprise. “E-Eren!” she exclaimed, holding her hand up to stop him, “I-I would advise you to not go inside!”

Eren looked down at the petite woman who was trying her best to stand her ground with a straight face.

“Move.”

“I-I can’t…” she said, “She’s upset. She-She doesn’t want to see you right now.”

“Does it look like I care?” he asked, raising a brow.

Historia was taken aback by his question. ‘How could he act like this?’ she thought, ‘they were getting along…’ Y/N somewhat told her what happened as she sobbed in her arms, but she was smart enough to piece together what had taken place. Historia does not get mad often. She’s almost always optimistic. She knows about Eren’s ‘condition.’ Connie and Jean keep them updated about what happens when they go out in search of Zeke. She knows that sometimes he can’t control it, but seeing her lady so broken really pissed her off.

She straightened her back and puffed her small chest in front of him, trying to intimidate him. “Eren Yeager!” she said with a stern voice, feeling triumphant when his eyes widened a bit in surprise at her anger, “I am going to tell you this as your friend. Your wife is distraught because of you. She does not want to see you right now!”

“And I’m telling you as your king to move out of my way,” Eren glared.

“You’re angry,” the blonde said.

“So?” he growled.

“You scared her,” Historia said with a sad look on her face, studying his face as it slowly morphs from pissed off to a more neutral look. The woman let out an internal sigh of relief when she saw that he was calming down. “She’s scared Eren,” she said calmly, careful to not set him off, “She’s scared of you, her husband.”

“I need to talk to her,” Eren said again.

Historia sighed, “I know there’s only so much I can do to protect my lady. I know that you can throw me to the side and barge through her door. But Eren, you need to give her some time… You shouldn’t see her right now, especially with the way you look right now.”

“What’s wrong with what I look like?” he asked, answering his question when he took a look at his outfit covered in blood, “Oh.”

“So… am I speaking with Eren?” she asked.

He looked at her confused, “What the hell do you mean? Of course, it’s fucking me.”

“No,” she shook her head, “Am I speaking to nice- er- neutral Eren or mean Eren?”

“You guys seriously added emotions to my name to determine my mood?” he groaned.

“Just answer the question!”

“Fucking fine! Neutral Eren cusping Angry Eren…”

Historia nodded, “That’s good enough for me.”

“H-Hey! What are you doing?!” he grunted as she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to his room.

“I can’t stop you from speaking with her since you’re the king. But I am going to make you take a shower to get her friend’s blood off of you. If you are going to speak to her, at least do it looking like you didn’t just kill her friend in front of her!” she huffed shoving him into his room.

“It wasn’t in front of her!” he protested.

“Might’ve well have been,” the blonde glared, “Shower. Think. Be careful with her.” With that, she shut his door, leaving Eren bewildered as to how that woman had so much spunk in her.

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Y/N sat at her desk in her room staring blankly at the budding lily, tears sparingly sliding down her cheeks. She didn’t even flinch when she heard a soft knock at her door.

“Y/N?” Historia called as she slowly entered, “I ran into him.”

Nothing.

The blonde fiddled with her hands, worried that what she would say next would trigger her.

“H-He might come and see you later on. I-I know you told me you don’t want to see him, and I told him that you don’t… but there’s only so much I can do.”

“Okay,” Y/N said monotonously.

“I-I’m guessing you witnessed Bloodthirsty Eren in the dungeons?” Historia asked.

Y/N slowly turned her head in confusion, “W-What?”

“I guess this isn’t the best time to talk about this…” she said looking down, regretting bringing it up.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked. When she saw Historia refusing to say anything she sighed, “Historia, is my first order as Queen going to be ordering you to tell what is wrong with my husband?”

“This really isn’t the best time to talk about this Y/N,” Historia said, “You just lost a friend today.”

“A friend I honestly haven’t seen in like 4 years. A friend I didn’t know left to go with Zeke. Yes, I am upset with him, but Historia, if there is a problem with my husband I would like to know about it.”

Historia sighed before she took a seat near Y/N, “Ever since the coup, Eren hasn’t been the same as you know.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

“I haven’t seen him smile since then. No one has. He’s been so focused on finding Zeke and getting revenge for his parents that over the years he would slip into a bloodthirsty headspace. He would become this ferocious animal that only thirsts for blood and carnage. Jean and Connie would tell us that he would play with some of Zeke’s soldiers before he kills them. He would treat it like a chase, letting his prey think they could escape only to torture them until he decides to end them. He lets his anger get the best of him and his emotions go all over the place. Hence, we have names for his different moods. Bloodthirsty Eren, whom you briefly met before…”

“Yeah…” Y/N said with a sniff.

“Then there’s Angry Eren, Hangry Eren, and Neutral Eren.”

“Neutral Eren?”

“Honestly, Neutral Eren frightens me more than the others. Probably because I have not seen the other sides of him as often as the guys do, but you never know where he will go with that one. Any little thing can tip the balance.”

“So Happy Eren doesn’t exist.”

“Well, he just found out today that we call him those names, so if you ask him about Happy Eren, he’ll probably say something like ‘He died the day my parent’s died’ or something like that.”

Y/N suddenly felt a surge of anger and pity rush through her. Pity for him that he suffered so much to only have negative emotions but anger that he never did anything to control those emotions. He’s lowered all morale here because of his tantrums. She understands his anger towards Zeke, but she has had it with him directing those negative emotions onto her and his friends. Because of his actions, he is hurting those he holds dear to him. She stood up abruptly, taking Historia by surprise.

“Y/N?” she questioned.

“Take me to his chambers,” Y/N said with a stern look, walking towards the door.

“He’s probably still upset-”

“I don’t care if he is upset,” Y/N said, looking back at her lady in waiting, “I am tired of the whiplash he is giving me every single day. I am going to speak with him about his behavior. Now take me to his chambers, Historia. I would like Jean to come with us as well.”

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Eren grumbled curses as he peeled his clothing from his body, flakes of dried blood falling to the floor. Y/N’s upset with him and won’t let him see her? Who is she to decide when he can and can’t see her? He is the king. No one orders him around. And Historia. While he was surprised to see such a stern side of her, he kicked himself for letting him be dragged to his room by her. Gods, being ordered around by women really irked him…

“Your majesty,” a maid said as she approached him, head kept down to avoid gazing upon his naked body, “your bath has been drawn.”

“Get Grace in here. Now,” Eren ordered, walking past her into his bathroom.

He stepped into his oversized tub, dunking himself underwater to wet his hair. He stayed underwater for a little bit, relishing in the sounds of the water in his ears. Nothing else. Just… peace. When he resurfaced, he noticed Grace standing next to his tub. Her brown wavy hair cascaded down her back, her blue eyes filled with lust as they looked into his green ones.

“You called for me, your grace?” she said in a sultry voice.

“Of course, I did,” he smirked, “Take your damn clothes off and get in.”

The woman shared a similar smirk as she slowly took off her servant’s dress, seductively waving her hips as she undressed, knowing that he got him all riled up. Once she was completely bare, she let out a yelp as Eren roughly grabbed her and pulled her into the tub with him, water spilling over the edge. Grace let out a moan as she felt Eren grind himself into her rear as he bit against her neck.

“Oh my your grace~” she whimpered, “Is your Queen- ha- unable to satisfy you?”

He growled, biting harder against her neck, causing the woman to hiss in pain, “My wife is being difficult. It hurts my head.”

“Oh really? I’m being difficult?”

Both Eren and Grace freeze at the voice that echoed through the bathroom. Eren whips his head to glare at his wife, standing in the doorway with a scowl on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

“Hello, wife,” Eren smirked as he began to grind his hips against Grace again, keeping his eyes on his wife, “What brings you here?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She walked to the side of the tub and stared down at the brunette sitting between her husband’s legs.

“Out. Now,” Y/N ordered; eyes filled with rage. Something Eren thought he would never see in his wife.

Grace chuckled as she leaned back into Eren’s chest, his hand snaking around her waist, thumb drawing circles on her skin under the water.

“I’m sorry your majesty,” she snickered, “I only take orders from his majesty. He and I have a special relationship.”

“I am well aware of the relationship you have with my husband,” Y/N chuckled, eyes darkening, “But you would be wise to listen to your Queen. I am going to give you a chance to leave on your own accord. I wouldn’t want anything embarrassing to happen.” Eren quirked a brow at his wife. This was getting interesting…

“Why would I take orders from a Queen who keeps herself locked away in her room?” Grace countered.

Y/N sighed and turned towards the entrance to the bathroom, “Jean, can you come take this nuisance back to the servants' quarters?”

Eren’s eyes widened when he saw one of his best friends come at his wife’s behest. He didn’t do anything. He just watched as Jean roughly grabbed Grace by her arm and pull her out of the tub despite her struggling and curses being thrown at the both of them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screeched as she tried to get out of the knight’s grip, “Let go of me!”

As Jean bent down to grab her dress, Y/N’s foot kicked it away. Both men looked up at her with confusion.

“You will take her back to her quarters the way she is. Let them see what she truly is. A homewrecker,” Y/N ordered.

Jean nodded to her with a smirk, “As you wish my queen.”

Both royals watched as the knight dragged the naked woman from the bathroom.

“Well,” Eren sighed as he stood up in the tub, “as entertaining as it was to see you seethe with anger at her, you ruined what would have been a good evening for me.” To emphasize what he meant by ruined he gestured to his softening cock.

“Oh no,” Y/N hissed at him with narrowed eyes, “You sit back down.”

“Excuse me?” he questioned with a quirked brow.

“You heard me,” Y/N said as she got out of her dress, exposing her naked body to him. She stood at the edge of the tub and glared at him, “Sit down. Now.”

Eren’s eyes raked over her body as he slowly sat back down in the tub.

“Good,” Y/N said as she stepped into the tub with him, sitting on the opposite side of him.

“Why are you over there? There’s room between my legs for you,” Eren smirked.

“I’m not here for that, Eren,” she said as she grabbed the soap and began lathering her body in it, “We are going to talk.”

“About what?” Eren eyed her as she handed him the soap.

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” she confirmed, “We are going to talk about what is going on with you.”

“With me?” he questioned as he washed the soap from his body, “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Of course not,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Y/N,” Eren warns.

“Why do you act like this?!”

“Like what?”

“Like such an…an asshole?!” she cried.

“Oh, I’m an asshole?” he questioned.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “You are rude and dismissive to your friends. You are so hellbent on getting revenge on Zeke that you think of nothing but killing. And you treat me like shit!”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t treat you like shit if you would just listen to me and do as you’re told!”

“That’s not how this works, Eren! You’re supposed to treat your spouse with respect and love. Two things you do not do with me,” she said, “You degrade me, you use me and you hurt me.”

“Have I ever laid a hand on you?” he questioned.

“Not physically,” she said, but she placed a hand over her heart, “You hurt me here. Over and over again. First, you treat me like I’m nothing but a trophy, a breeding cow. Then you are kind to me, making me feel that you want me, only to hurt me again! You do that when you know that I will always be faithful to you, that I love you.”

“You begged me not to kill that man, Y/N. It sure sounded like you loved him,” he retorted.

“I did love him,” Y/N sighed, ignoring the intense glare from her husband, “When I was little, I thought I was going to marry him. But then I met you and I fell in love with you. From then on, I loved Colt as a brother. I didn’t want you to kill not only because I cared for him, but because I didn’t want you to stray deeper into the darkness you put yourself in.”

“Darkness, you say?”

“You’re turning yourself into a bloodthirsty monster, Eren,” Y/N sniffed, wiping her tears, “I heard that you enjoy killing. You p-play with your opponents. You enjoy torturing them. And it scares me, Eren!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have turned out like this if Zeke hadn’t-”

“Zeke had nothing to do with this, Eren!” Y/N shouted, catching him off guard, “He had absolutely fucking nothing to do with you becoming the monster you are and you know it! All he did was take your parents away from you…”

Eren watched as Y/N’s body began to shake as she tried to wipe tears that streamed from her eyes.

“Y/N-”

“I’m sorry he killed your parents, Eren!” she cried, looking up at him, the tears still falling down her cheeks, “I am! I am so sorry that happened. I can’t even imagine how it affected you. I understand your desire to seek revenge, I really do, but you are letting your rage take over you. You are letting it cloud your better judgment. You are letting it control you. You are letting it make you do things that you can never take back. Taking a life… Eren… Taking a life is the scariest thing ever. It will haunt you until you die. But because you are obsessed with revenge, you don’t feel any remorse. You feel pleasure from it and that’s fucking scary. That is what a tyrant feels. A tyrant enjoys killing people, degrading those under them, and disregarding the feelings of those around them. Y-You were never like that when I first met you…”

The two sat in silence as she cried. Y/N’s words echoed in Eren’s ears.

“A-Are you a tyrant, Eren?” she asked.

His eyes widened at her question. He looked down at his hands. The hands he used to kill so many people with. Was he a tyrant? Had he become the very thing he said Zeke would become if he took the throne? Had he become the kind of person his father taught him not to become? He was snapped out of his thoughts when Y/N let out a choked sob.

“W-What happened to the Eren I fell in love with 8 years ago?” she sobbed, “Why did you even marry me? Y-You ignored the letters I sent after the coup and I thought you hated me!”

Eren’s eyes snapped back up to her face in confusion, “Letters?”

Y/N nodded, “I-I sent you letters sending you my condolences and to tell you that it was my parents who helped Zeke. I said that I didn’t know what was happened and I-I even offered to come help f-find him.”

“I never received any letters from you.”

It was Y/N’s turn to look shocked, “Y-You didn’t get them?”

He shook his head. That’s when Y/N suddenly realized that he never got the letters because her parent’s intercepted them.

“T-They intercepted them,” she said, “my parents.”

“How many did you send?”

“F-Four,” Y/N sniffed, “Gods, I can’t believe them. I thought they wouldn’t find out.”

“What did your letters say?” Eren asked.

“T-The first three were asking about your wellbeing. I wrote that I had you in my prayers. I hoped you were eating well and surrounding yourself with loved ones,” she said, looking down at the water. Eren still couldn’t believe that she had written letters to him asking about his wellbeing. She was telling him her parents assisted Zeke and that she wanted to be there with him to grieve. She did that, even though she was risking her parents finding out… And during all that time, he thought she was in on it. That she was toying with his heart…

“W-When you didn’t respond, I wrote the fourth one. In that one, I sent you some lily seeds to grow to lay on your parents' graves and…”

“And what?” Eren urged.

“T-That I loved you.”

And just like that, the stone wall built around Eren’s heart, shattered. She tried to be there for him. She wanted to be with him. She loved him. Tears spilled from his eyes as he launched himself towards her, not caring about the copious amounts of water spilling out of the tub. His hands grabbed her face, his eyes gazing down to her watery e/c orbs.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, causing Y/N to hiccup when he smashed his lips against hers. Y/N watched his face as he kissed her. She watched how tears flowed from his closed eyes, feeling how passionately his lips danced with hers. Butterflies filled her stomach as they continued their kisses of love and regret. Eren pulled away a bit to catch his breath, his teary eyes meeting hers, “I’m so fucking sorry,” he croaked.

“Eren-”

“I’m so sorry!” he cried, “You’re right. I’ve become the man I swore to protect my kingdom from. I-I’ve hurt you! The person who stayed by my side from the beginning. The person I fell in love with in that garden… I was a monster to you…”

“You were.”

“I don’t expect you to ever forgive me…”

“I won’t.”

Eren hung his head as he let out a sob.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, her hands cupping his cheeks to bring his red eyes to hers, “I won’t forgive you right now, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his, giving him a soft kiss that he returned earnestly.

“H-How do I earn your forgiveness?”

“When you can control your rage. Only then will I forgive you.”

“That’s easier said than done…”

Y/N planted another kiss on his lips, “I’ll be by your side to help. If you will let me.”

“I don’t want you coming with me into the battle though. That’s where I draw the line. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Hmm then I’ll have Levi keep a close eye on you,” she smirked, “I know he scares everyone.”

“Fine by me,” he said and a chuckle. He looked down at her face. The way her eyes sparkled up at him, despite the redness from her earlier tears, lit a fire in his core.

“I love you,” he whispered as he captured her lips again. She sighed into him as she wrapped her arms around his neck bringing him closer to her, “I love you too.”

As Eren brought his hand to her face, he noticed his hand had gotten a little pruney. He furrowed his eyebrows; they were in the bath for too long. In one swift motion, he wrapped an arm under her knees and back, hauling her into his chest. Y/N squeaked at the sudden movement; arms wrapped tighter around his neck.

“Eren?”

“I figured it would be more pleasurable to enjoy our passion when we are not pruney, don’t you agree?” he chuckled at her flushed face, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

“So, you’ve told me,” Y/N giggled.

“And you’ll be hearing it a lot more as the night goes on,” he said with a smirk.

-------------------------------------------------

Next

a/n: the amount of times I accidentally wrote toji instead of eren while writing this chapter amazes me. my brain is fried.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[binniedeactivated]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦

[ m.list ]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

𝐖/𝐂 |  4k

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

 POC = person of color

a/n; should this be a ff?

adriana didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. her dirty thoughts never stopped ever since he walked into her kindergarten classroom that one morning. with his sleek parted blonde hair, tall physique and lush pink lips she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him day in and day out. she had a job to do of course. teach the children, take care of the children and make sure each and every one of them were safe.

but myla rose’s father looked nothing like any man she had ever seen before. and it was a pity that his ring finger was occupied. that made her attraction to him even more difficult at the school’s open house.

adriana greeted every parent who stopped inside her classroom, guiding them to their child’s work display and giving short reviews of their performance in class. she was an excellent teacher. one of the school’s favorite in fact and every child loved her. the parents were always pleased with her enthusiastic attitude and compassion for their child. and this was evident especially when myla came running to hug her legs at the door.

“Hi ms. A!”.

in awe, adriana hugs her gratefully. “hey myla!”.

she glances up and with a warm smile the man takes her hand. “good evening, I’m choi yeonjun. myla’s dad”.

adriana smiles back a little harder than normal but she tried her best to conceal it. to her demise though, yeonjun didn’t come with just his beloved daughter.

“this is my wife, leah. our eldest son daniel. and this little guy right here--“.

yeonjun pauses for a moment to squat next to the baby stroller that his wife was pushing. he lifted the top of it a little, revealing the small one year old child who was currently dressed in a brown furry onesie with a dog ear hood. he sucks cutely on his blue pacifier glancing upwards at his father in wonder and being immediately surprised by the splashes of color around the classroom. he looked just like yeonjun.

“this is our youngest son logan”.

adriana smiles and coos at the younger child, “aww he is adorable. myla why didn’t you tell me about your little brother?”. she directs to the small girl with a  pink ribbon wrapped around her ponytail. she rolls her eyes.

“because he’s annoying”. she says with more attitude than she ever showed in class. adriana laughs.

“nice to meet you leah. and hey daniel”. she greeted the eldest. he looked to be at least 8 years old. not very far from myla. he waves shyly, burying his face into his father’s chest. how lucky leah was, to have a family with yeonjun. as a single woman, dealing with families was always hard. it’s just what adriana wanted especially at this stage of her life.

“well, first things first myla is a pleasure to have in my class. she is always doing her work diligently like I ask and she’s always the first one to answer questions when it’s time”.

yeonjun nods in approval rubbing his daughter’s back as they were then guided to myla’s work display. he was here for his daughter he had to remember that. especially when his eyes kept slipping below adriana’s waist as she walked. but it was something about the way she walked. she walked like she wanted to be seen. as if she were inviting yeonjun’s eyes to admire her every curve. nevertheless he snaps his eyes back up whenever she turned around.

“and right here is myla’s art work, her math work, and her reading caterpillar. as you can see she really loves watercolors. her math work is outstanding. she grasps every concept I teach. and her reading caterpillar--eh it can be longer”. she playfully laughs. she tried to make the conversation as general as possible but with leah on her phone pretending as if she had no care in the world adriana’s only focus was on yeonjun who, didn’t hesitate to give an unforgiving stare into her eyes every time she talked.

adriana was an afro-latina beauty. black spiral curls dropping just above her mid back, deep set brown eyes, and full sensuous lips that anyone wanted to kiss with just one glance. and yeonjun took advantage of admiring her every chance he got.

“and um,” she fidgeted. “for each book she reads she gets a segment added onto to her caterpillar. the first student to become a butterfly wins a prize”.

“you hear that myla? don’t you want a prize?”. yeonjun cooed holding her hand. she nods excitedly. “yes!”.

“you have to start reading more okay? see look, your caterpillar is short”. yeonjun pointed at the green bulletin board. “can you buy me more books daddy?”. she asks in the soft voice that she knew would touch his heart.

“you already have enough stuff myla”. daniel chimed in, annoyed. wanting nothing more than to go home and play his play-station already.

“hey! you have stuff too”.

“you’re always asking for the most”.

“so what! daddy will buy it for me”.

“that doesn’t mean you have to ask all the time”.

“but--”.

“guys. enough. we’re not at home we’re at an open house”. yeonjun settled. all the while leah just stood there just as annoyed as them. she could’ve helped yeonjun calm the kids down but she didn’t. she didn’t even seem interested in myla’s work nor her progress. much less wanting to be there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,”. yeonjun apologized. “my kids are spoiled”.

adriana chuckles. “it’s alright I understand”.

“so how are myla’s grades? is she getting along with the kids okay? I know she can probably be a little chatty”.

“oh myla’s grades are amazing. she’s great with the other kids, rather a leader. she’s only chatty when I allow it”.

yeonjun hums in approval. “good job baby”. he coos to her. he pays his attention back to adriana though. “she loves you. she always comes home with stories about what game you played with them or what you taught them that day”.

“oh really?”.

yeonjun nods. “yeah she does. you’re a phenomenal teacher. thank you for taking good care of her”.

“thank you yeonjun. it’s no problem I love these kids like they’re my own”. adriana spoke, sinking into the hypnotics of his lustful gaze. the one that made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.  “she’s a pleasure to teach”.

“thank you for this. so um--we go to the gymnasium now right?”.

“yeah, do you need help finding it?”.

“no it’s alright, I think I saw it on my way in. thank you though”.

“no problem. I hope you guys have a nice rest of your evening!”. she smiles sweetly.

“you too”, yeonjun nods, nudging his wife to push the baby stroller before they turned to leave. and adriana instantly wondered what he saw her in her. she was beautiful. but she wondered why he loved a woman with such an attitude. perhaps they had argument beforehand that she didn’t know about. but even that wouldn’t explain how careless she looked about her family.

and she was almost too careless. yeonjun could feel his adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of fucking someone new. it’s been a while since him and his wife had any kind of sex. she’d always blame it on the fact that she was tired and would postpone it to another night. but yeonjun had needs and once he saw adriana he became desperate once again. he didn’t want to ruin his marriage. god knows he didn’t.

but things in the choi household never went how yeonjun wanted it to go.

“give me back my controller myla!”. daniel shouts.

“no! you shouldn’t have cut the hair off my dollie! now your controller is going in the toilet!”. the smaller girl runs to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, leaving daniel angrily banging on it in agony. “stop it myla!!”.

“no I’m flushing it away!”.

all the commotion in the next room over was enough to startle logan, who was sleeping so soundly leaving yeonjun thinking that he was out for the night. but he wasn’t in this case. now he was crying and screaming to the top of his lungs and rattling his hands wanting nothing more than his father’s warmth. 

daniel races to the kitchen, “daddy!! get myla she’s trying to flush my controller down the toilet!”. he screeches to his father who happened to be cooking over the stove top. “what do you mean she’s trying to flush it?”.

“get her! my controller is going to be broken!”.

overhearing the baby crying yeonjun rushes down the hall to get him, slowly lifting the infant out of his crib. still sobbing, the baby clings to his sweater and yeonjun shakes him gently hoping that his presence would be enough to calm him. but he could still hear daniel banging his fists against the bathroom door. yeonjun scrambles into the hallway and fiddles with the door knob.

“myla open up this door right now. you two are being too loud you just woke up your brother”.

“daddy?”. she asks innocently.

“yes this is daddy open up the door”.

there was faint shuffling on the other side of the door before she opened it. daniel gives a sigh of relief at the sight of his game controller sitting on the bathroom sink away from the toilet. myla glances up at her father with big eyes and the cutest face she could give. she’d do anything to avoid her father’s wrath.

“I wasn’t really going to flush it daddy”.

“give your brother back his game controller. why are you messing with him?”.

“he cut all my dollie’s hair off!”. she points, stomping her foot for good measure.

yeonjun looks back at his eldest son sternly. “daniel? why would you do that?”.

“daddy she’s always teasing me and being annoying”.

“give me the controller myla”.

she strolls to the sink and pushes the controller in her father’s hands while crossing her arms. yeonjun turns, “I’ll give you this controller but if i find out that you’re sabotaging myla’s toys again I’m selling your play station. If she’s annoying you come tell me so I can deal with her. I spend a lot of money on this stuff daniel”.

he huffs his breath with his back against the wall. “fine”.

“and myla,”. he turns, “if I find out that you’re trying to destroy your brother’s stuff again I’m selling your dolls. I spent a lot of money on that too”.

she gives a sigh that was identical to her brother’s. “fine”.

“good. you guys go play. where’s your mom?”.

“she said to tell you that she had to go someplace and that she’ll be back soon”. daniel exclaims while walking to his room. yeonjun checks his phone lock screen wondering where did she have to go at 9 o’clock at night. and the crazy part about it is that this isn’t the first time she’s done this.

“daddy?”. myla murmured fiddling with her fingers. yeonjun hadn’t notice she never went to her room.

“yes?”.

“can you buy me a new dollie? since daniel ruined my last one?”.

“yes. but stop teasing your brother so much and maybe he won’t mess with your stuff”.

“yay!!”.

“go on your ipad and pick one out. after you’re done show it to me okay?”.

“okay!! thanks daddy!”. she jeers, scurrying to her room already having the perfect doll in mind. yeonjun sighs, now looking at his messy haired baby boy who inches his tiny fingers up to press on yeonjun’s bottom lip.

“are you ready to eat logan?”. he asks in spite of the chaos that was going on in his mind. throughout the night he was calling leah consistently and she never picked up, her phone going straight to voicemail. so it was up to yeonjun, pretty much like it was every night. for him to cook dinner, for him to feed and change the baby, for him to make sure the kids are washed and ready for school the next day. and as frustrated as yeonjun was he always made sure he got everything done with or without her.

he was laying logan down in his crib for the night, the sleeping baby’s head falling tiredly into his pillow. he kisses him on his forehead and his cheeks before he heard the front door open and close.

making his way downstairs he spotted leah walking into the house, no--stumbling into the house with her work attire on. he approaches her before she could knock the kitchen chair over.

“leah? what is wrong with you? where were you?”. he whispers. she gives him a solemn glance trying to make herself look sober. it was failing miserably.

“I had to finish some stuff back up at the office yeonjun. don’t start”. she kicks her heels off at the door.

“don’t start? you’re never here. when are you ever going to be here? the kids see you once in the morning and then somehow you disappear for the rest of the day”. 

“I just told you where I was. I’m going to bed now. I don’t feel like talking about this”. she brushes past him making her way to the staircase. the things yeonjun wanted to say to her-- but he bit his tongue. he didn’t want to pour his heart out just for her to leave him single and alone. had that been him coming in late and drunk she would’ve raised hell. accusing him of cheating and trying to kick him out the house. with three kids, the last thing yeonjun wanted was to be alone. it stressed him out. 

and adriana saw it all over his face.

“hey, um- myla left her lunchbox in the car I just wanted to drop it off”. he approaches the vacant classroom-- the kids playing outside for the hour with the P.E teacher. adriana softly smiles at the man whom she wasn’t expecting to see so early in the day.

“hey yeonjun. no problem you can just sit it right there on her desk”. she guides. she was at the back of the classroom stapling work to the bulletin board.

“are you okay? you look a little stressed”. she adds.

“yeah I’m fine you know--just kids. they’re a handful sometimes. I’m sure you understand”.

“of course! I know how they can be at school. i don’t have any of my own though so I have no idea how they can be at home”.

hm, so she didn’t have any kids. yeonjun was annoyed with himself for even taking note of that. even worse, wondering if she was single.

“imagine a 24 hour school day. that’s exactly what it’s like”.

adriana chuckled. “god that’s brutal”.

“it is. you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. whenever you and your significant other decide to have children at least. it’s a world you haven’t known”.

she hops off of the stool to grab another sheet of paper to staple. she chuckles a little, “i hope this doesn’t sound weird but i actually look forward to that. whenever I actually get a significant other”.

yeonjun nods his head in disbelief. he wondered how a woman so beautiful with such an enthusiastic, compassionate attitude could be single at all. maybe she had a secret past yeonjun knew nothing about. perhaps she’s a psychopath. maybe even a gold digger.

but with the way she carried herself, in confidence but with humility, it attracted yeonjun he wouldn’t care if she was both.

“you’re single?”. yeonjun blurted out, wanting to smack himself for thinking out loud. she grins.

“why do you sound surprised?”.

while she stretches her arms up yeonjun stares at the small dip in her back and swallows. “well because you’re gorgeous”.

she steps off the stool again stifling a blush. she toys with the stapler in her hands.

“thank you and if i’m not mistaken it kind of sounds like you’re flirting with me”. she accuses, the cute grin of hers twisting into an innocent smile.

yeonjun breathes. it’s been years since he flirted with anyone other than his wife. but with the stress he was feeling nowadays he was willing to take any type of chance he could. he approaches her,

“it’s because I am”. he reassured, looking down at her hoping she felt the same way. only if he knew how much she thought about this moment, he’d take her right then and there. she pushes her face closer to his teasingly.

“aren’t you a married man? choi yeonjun?��. she licks her lips at the up close sight of his.

 “please don’t mention my marriage while you’re licking your lips at me like that”. he monotones.

“or what? hm?“.

he grins, bending lower to hover his lips over her ear. “don’t test me adriana“.

his words sent chills down her spine. her heart races and before she could say her next word he was already glaring into her eyes soon after. he places his fingers at the bottom of her chin forging her attention on him.

“kiss me”. he demanded.

she clutches his wrist, half leaning in and half hesitant. she was uncertain. he had a wife. a family. children. but he was sexy and she could already feel her panties clinging to her now sticky folds. his lips were halfway there but he had other plans.

he sticks two fingers between his pretty pink lips while maintaining his gaze. adriana could feel her legs turning into jelly at the streams of saliva that slipped in between them and running down his hand. when they were finally drenched with the contents of his tongue he pulls them out and instead sticks his messy hand directly into her panties.

her lips parted and she tensed immediately, not gasping the air but gasping in his mouth---because it took almost nothing for yeonjun to pull her into a wet heated kiss. her lips felt just as yeonjun though they would. soft and full. she whimpered in delight as her tongue lolled into his hot mouth. his fingers slid through her slick liquid so easily, she was practically gushing for him and all he was doing was tracing his fingers around the circumference of her clit, not wanting to give her too much too soon. but the lighter his fingers were the more she twitched up into his hand. she wanted so much more. she needed so much more. her mind went blank.

“y-yyeonjun”., she mewls before he roughly sticks his tongue down her throat. she waited until she got another speck of air. “you’re m-married”.  she partially wanted to warn, mainly because she didn’t want him to do anything that he was going to regret. he only let his fingers do the talking,  allowing them to travel into her channel, pumping them into her gradually. she does that little innocent gasp again. the one that yeonjun likes, the one that made her seem like she’s never been touched before. the euphoric waves his fingers gave her was like venom, swimming through her nerves and making her legs tremble.

his hand searches for the back of her thigh and he lifts her leg around his waist, widening her legs.

“you’re thinking about my marriage and I’m thinking about pounding you into this fucking table”.

he watches her face contort in pleasure and he smirks. he couldn’t deny the hard on she gave him by her measly moans alone. she sounded so helpless and needy for more of him. she was dripping down his fingers and it took every instinctual part of him to not unbuckle his jeans. she pressed her body into his like a bruise, gasping into the crook of his neck as his fingers delve deeper into her. “ohh m-my god please ddon’t stop”.

pulses of arousal amended around yeonjun fingers and he sloppily kisses her hungrily. she steadily grinds her hips into his rhythmic thrusts in need.

“just like that adriana, fuck my fingers”. he groans into her mouth, she wondered if it was possible to get wetter at the sound of his voice. if not, she was definitely pulsating harder than before after he said that. with a shaky hand she reaches down to unzip his pants. “pplease fuck me I need it”. she whines, not being able to withstand anymore of the finger fucking. she wanted to be stretched. “pplease make it quick I have to go get the kids in 7 minutes”.

yeonjun lets her undo his pants, he enjoyed her desperation for him. it was hot and it was something he wasn’t used to. leah was never like this. but adriana was a woman who knew what she wanted and who she wanted it from. so it wasn’t as embarrassing for her to slide down on his dick the way she did. she was turned, her back facing his front where yeonjun could see her ass swallow his dick whole. he wasn’t going to fuck her initially since this was their first  sexual interaction. but he was hard and she was needy so he didn’t care anymore.

the setting quickly fades from his mind while he watches her bounce against him wildly. his breathing becomes weighty and he grips her waist in absolute heaven, her slick sheathing his dick faithfully. he hid his bottom lip behind his teeth to produce a curse word but couldn’t quite get it out entirely; everything felt so fucking amazing and unbelievably so. broken curse words fluttered from his throat.

“fu--fuckk”. he utters with a low grunt. with her own electricity shooting through her veins and torso obscene moans fled from her lips and yeonjun clasped his hand over her mouth before she could get any louder. he had no intentions on getting caught but on the other hand it was hot hearing her unable to control herself.

her hips rolled down as she took up a measured pace riding him, her thighs burning but her movements were pleasing the both of them and the way yeonjun smacked her ass in praise gave her every reason to keep going. he soon met her thrusts by gripping her ass and grinding against it, chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come if she kept going at the same pace. “ohh my god”. she hissed. he was gripping her ass rough enough to leave a significant bruise. not that adriana cared anyway, it would be an honor to be bruised up by yeonjun.

“god I’m going to fucking cum all over you”. she whines, reaching down to play with her clit along the way. yeonjun fucked into her a bit harder, exhaling all the choked up groans he withheld until her juices was spilling down his dick with ease. she trembles, wiggling her ass on him a bit longer before rushing to pull her panties up and look presentable for the rest of the school day. she was shocked to see that yeonjun was still hard as a rock, yet he was zipping up his jeans.

she clutches her clipboard, totally not expecting yeonjun to grab her from behind and kiss her on the cheek the way he did. she felt his bulge pressed against her backside.

“next time ride my dick until I cum”.

[howdoyousleep3]

Today's self care story is a birthday story, or course:

The headache that had been building behind Bucky’s eyes refused to go away, just like Bucky refused to acknowledge it. Today was not the day for it; it was the 4th of July.

Steve's birthday.

And Bucky had been doing everything he could to make it amazing, starting with breakfast in bed: bites of food slipped between moaning lips as he ground and writhed in his Daddy's lap, drinking up Steve's deep groans and pleas of 'Faster, Bunny, c'mon, lemme feel you bounce'.

Then it was a day at the art walk, hanging on Steve’s elbow as he gushed about lighting, placement, and color theory with every artist he could engage, and even buying out a whole stall of incredible watercolor canvases for his office building.

Lunch was food cart tortas and a quick and filthy blowjob behind a park tree, Steve's fingers buried in Bucky's hair and his shirt hem shoved between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

The car ride home had Bucky squirming under Steve's absent but forceful groping, promises of 'You're gonna scream for me, baby boy. I swear, as soon as everyone leaves tonight, you're gonna drown out the fireworks while I fuck that pussy. Gonna make you lose your voice and your mind, Bunny.'

And now all Bucky had to do was get through the prep and hosting of their BBQ. Easy. He didn't have time for a headache.

Unfortunately, that resolve didn't stop him from flinching as he walked from the kitchen to the backyard, the tray of glasses in his hands tipping and clattering alarmingly.

He cursed as large hands grasped his arms, sliding down to take the tray from him. He couldn't fucking see, damnit.

"Bucky? What's wrong, baby? Are you hurt?"

Bucky couldn't answer; his headache had just slammed into migraine territory, and the sunlight was distorting and spiking through his vision, making him nauseous. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, the motion making him sway.

Steve immediately pulled Bucky into the cradle of his arms, lifting him easily and bringing him back inside and up the stairs to their bedroom. He settled Bucky onto the bed, gently pressing a soft kiss, then a pillow across the top of Bucky’s face, covering his forehead and eyes, before circling the room to close all the curtains and dim all the lights. He then turned on his heel and headed back downstairs with the whispered promise of a swift return.

Bucky could barely think through the pain of the migraine, but what he was thinking was how he'd fucked up Steve's birthday BBQ, and how stupid he'd been to ignore the signs. Migraines only happened when he was stressed, overheated, or dehydrated, and he had a feeling he'd been all three today.

Stupid.

-

Stev reappeared quickly, holding a large water bottle in one hand and cradling a few painkillers in the other palm. He slowly kneewalked across the mattress to settle in beside Bucky, gingerly handing over the medication and water and taking the bottle back after coaxing his Bunny to drink at least a fourth of it.

He set it aside and spread out fully, stretching his arm over Bucky’s curled up form, folding his own hand over Bucky’s as it clutched the front of his shirt.

"I'm sorry," filtered out from under the pillow.

"For what, baby?" Steve kept his voice soft and low, hand sliding up to massage the back of Bucky's neck.

"For fucking up."

"You didn't fuck up, sweetheart," Steve assured.

"What about the BBQ?"

"I texted everyone, telling them it was rescheduled for tomorrow."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and get some rest. It's okay."

It was a testament to how much pain Bucky was actually in, that he listened and merely snuggled in closer to Steve's chest, breathing slowly through the pain until he slid into sleep.

-

It was almost full dark when Bucky roused, pulling Steve from his half-asleep state. The blond dipped his head to kiss Bucky's cheek, smiling against the deep imprint his shirt had left there. "How're you feeling?"

Bucky shifted slightly, ducking out from under the pillow with only a slight wince. "A bit better," he rasped. "My neck is really sore, but my eyes are okay."

"Good. Here," Steve passed over the water bottle as he rolled out of the bed, making Bucky whine and grumble, "drink this, you brat. I'll grab you some more pills and run us a bath, okay?"

Bucky pouted, but he took the bottle. "Yes, Daddy."

"That's my good boy," Steve was heartened by the blush on his Bunny's cheeks. That spoke volumes to how much better he was feeling. He leaned in for a quick kiss before heading to his tasks.

-

The sound of the fireworks was blessedly damped by the bathrooms thick walls and the rumble of the bath jets.

Bucky was a limp noodle sprawled across Steve's front, murmuring his pleasure as Steve dug out knot after knot of tension from the brunette's neck and shoulders. He nuzzled his face fully into Steve's throat, leaving with his tongue and lipping at the tendon in turns, reveling in the shudders he pulled from the larger man.

They both knew that sex wasn't happening tonight; migraines guaranteed a 'no-go' until Bucky was symptom-free for at least a day. But that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy each other in the interim.

"I'm really sorry about the BBQ," Bucky murmured, barely heard above the bath jets.

"I'd rather you apologize for not taking care of yourself," Steve responded, dragging his large hands up and down the span of Bucky's spine. "You had me worried, baby."

"...I'm sorry, Daddy."

"I know you are, Bunny. I know. Let's try to make sure it doesn't happen again, okay?"

"I just wanted to make your birthday special."

"Oh, baby boy," Steve tugged Bucky up until they were face to face, pinning the younger man with his eyes. "Every single day that you let me be a part of your life is special beyond anything I could have ever imagined. You don't need to run yourself into the dirt to show me that, and I'm so fucking sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise."

Bucky quickly shook his head, halting the movement with a wince before tucking back into Steve's chest. If he kept looking at the man, he was gonna cry, and crying would really fucking hurt right now.

He tried to order his thought process into something he could coherently articulate, but the migraine and the nap and the massage had turned his brain to goop.

The best he could do was press kisses to Steve's skin and whisper, "I wanted to make you happy because I love you and you make me happy."

Steve squeezed Bucky as tightly as he dared. "You make me so damn happy, sweetheart. So happy I could explode from it. I love you more than I think you could ever know."

For a long moment there was only the sound of rumbling bubbles and splishing water. And that was okay.

"Happy Birthday, Steve," Bucky’s words were quiet and a little bit slurred as exhaustion started to pull at him again. "Love you. Give you your presents tomorrow, okay?"

Steve's chuckle tickled Bucky's nose, making him smile sleepily. "Sounds good, Bunny. Get some rest. I love you."

--

(Steve’s presents were: a bottle of 16 year old scotch, a at-home mead brewing kit, and a fully lingerie and shibari rope set for Bucky, all in a shade of deep, deep blue.)