#struggling a bit with finishing pieces but it's fine. need to focus on just drawing more again in general

[adorabledaylilly]

[teethstitch]

Since you are into TMNT I am curious what’s your opinion on each of the turtles in general since you seem to be into all iterations of them /gen question

ooh fascinating question. unsure if you mean each individual turtle from each gen or just each gen itself but i'll go into both!

so i actually have a tmnt powerpoint i'm working on right now, so i'll lift some stuff but obviously i won't lift it all, ill go in franchise order. shows and comics in order (show specific comics will go in the show sections) and then movies. spoilers for pretty much every single thing i talk about. if you haven't finished a specific iteration just skip the paragraph about it

Mirage

I havent read too much of mirage, though i'm sure its good i find it a bit visually noisy and actually struggle to read it- my vision is fine as far as i know and i don't usually have trouble with other black and white comics but man mirage is hard to read, whenever eastman would draw for idw annuals or issues i'd have a hard time getting through them because even though the style is cool i just can't see anything, so yeah, that for the time being kind of sums up my thoughts on mirage, i think the shredder worm shark is funny as hell though. i suppose the only thing of note i have an opinion on is the april race debate - wherein by one of them she was thought of as white and the other thought of her as non-white (i can't remember which ethnicity), so based on that i've seen people say that means she's white or the other ethnicity but since they're co authors i've just gone with the idea that mirage april is biracial. that's about the only mirage thing i can actually give my two cents on, moving on!

1987

I really like 1987, i haven't watched it all but trust me i'm slogging through it o7. i adore the animation mistakes, the way they give one turtle another turtles lines, and i think the characterisation is pretty solid. sometimes the show can feel tedious to watch personally, which is why i love saturday morning adventures, it's a much more concise, thought out version of the show itself and is a beautiful love letter to the show (they also finally sent usagi home :'D). obviously it went on for way longer than it realistically needed to, a majority of episodes basically mean nothing unless they introduce new characters, its the one piece of the franchise, lots of filler, i still think it's great though. i also love shredders revenge, it was the first tmnt game i've played since joining the fandom and similar to SMA it is a genuinely beautiful love letter to the community and franchise, i'm an avid cross stitcher as well so pixel games make me happy because i can stitch straight from the game sprites, which i've been doing :3. I love how the turtles are characterised, Cam clarke is iconic and i love shredder and krangs dynamic, irma has become the love of my life and much to my dismay i love the neutrinos which sucks because they're only present elsewhere in idw, i'm doubtful but begging Tottmnt to bring them back.

2003

2003 is by far my favourite of the shows, i actually enjoyed fast forward unlike much of the tmnt fandom, i thought it was fun, though sterling was meh to me, i just didn't like him - even though i liked fast forward i can personally admit the show dealt with similar issues to 1987 of just. extending itself. when they were able to focus on plots and do arc episodes was great, but the seasons could have definitely been cut down sometimes because the formula of an episode was beholden to ads, which meant every 5 minutes someone had to say something shocking or nearly die only for it to be dissuaded or continued after the ad break, watching it digitally now with no ad breaks was kind of funny though because i would be up late sometimes and delirious and the 03 singers yelling 'teenage mutant ninja turtles' at me while mikey or other did a cool move entertained me much more than it should have. I really love that the opening scene is recreation of the first scene in the mirage comics, even if i have trouble reading it i think thats cool and fun, i love all the turtles voices and characterisation, i never have any complaints about voice in any iteration but especially not here, they all feel perfect. the fandom is a big part of the joy of 03 for me, but i do still love watching my favourite episodes back from time to time, and like any good 03 fan i can scream about good genes and same as it never was like a banshee, though i do also have a lot of thoughts on other arcs dw. usually i find it easier to pick a favourite turtle iteration to iteration but man is it hard here, they all have their moments, i think the humour and the darkness are played really well (cough except for when leo got stabbed in the shoulder and i had no idea where he got stabbed until he got a scar next episode because there was no blood). I was drawn into the fandom by rise and it will always hold a special place in my heart but 2003 is far and away my favourite iteration. forever sad about the dreamwave comics being cut short and no one picking them up. we deserve more official 03 comics.

IDW

I'm also still reading idw - don't kill me its long and also theres just a lot of turtles stuff to get through, okay? I really have enjoyed it thus far, i jumped for joy when the neutrinos were revealed, i hated chet with a passion and they somehow wormed me back in with the fugitoid reveal, i will say similar to watching 03 digitally and just getting hit with the before ad and after ads cutaways back to back, there's a bit of an annoyance in trying to find and read everything in exact order, because missing a micro/macro or short side story like the secret history of the foot can kind of screw you over, so when someone says they're reading idw its not actually the 150 issues, its well over 200, though i haven't counted specifically. if you read the powerpoint pictures you'll see the artist death match, basically i was just going to pit them against each other by choosing the best design of reoccurring characters and the artist would get the point, there are some great artist who had a hand in this series, i can't deny all of them are talented, but man some of them are just not for me, getting through an arc with a style i don't like is a breath of fresh air, right now my main example of a style i like is Mateus Santolouco - not all the character designs are my favourite but the secret history of the foot clan was gorgeous, especially karai, she's always been one of my favourite characters. i enjoy idw, i think the worst thing i can say about it really is sometimes theres styles i don't like and akin to other comic series it can be stupidly difficult to figure out the exact reading order when you're not there from the beginning.

2012

possibly controversial (definitely, i'm lying to myself), 2012 is probably my least favourite of the franchises shows (no, its not below next mutation, just talking animated main shows). just to explain myself, I do LIKE the show, but of the shows i find its the least in line with my humour, the gross out humour is a little more uncomfortable for me given the 3d style, i can't deny the story is probably the most well done of any of the shows thus far, i do enjoy the story and i think even non relevant episodes to the main storyline do a good job of serving some kind of purpose to character development or giving the viewer a look into the world, it is by no means a bad show, i would never say it is, i do like it, but for myself personally i struggle to sit down and rewatch because of some of the things i pointed out and some other things like the way apritello is written, leorai (shudders), idk why but 2012 splinter just annoys me, i will say the turtles and april are really enjoyable characters, i find most of the characters (karai, casey, some of the minor villains even) pretty engaging, everyone feels really fleshed out and similar to 03 the voice acting is on point, though this iteration isn't my favourite in terms of rewatchability, i audibly cheered when i realised shelldon was greg cipes, when he said booyakasha i was on the floor weeping. 2012 is a show that i would watch on occassion when it was on, its the one i technically grew up with, though i wasn't really into tmnt as a kid, but greg cipes was pretty much my childhood as a big teen titans kid, as well as mae whitman, i was a big tinkerbell kid, so those 2 are a huge highlight of the show for me. my feelings on 2012 are pretty confusing, but i still do like the show, its just if anyone (like you) asked, i would have to say its technically my least favourite, but again, by no means means that its bad, because it isn't, it's just not really as for me as the other shows. the '12 comics i enjoy, i haven't read too many but the batman crossover was sick as hell, style wise the 2012 comics are solid, while i don't think 2012 looks bad as a 3d show i would personally be more drawn to it if it was 2d like the comics, i just prefer 2d.

Rise (2018)

As previously mentioned, like many others rise was my formal introduction as a teen/now adult into the tmnt fandom, for a while it kind of stood out as my favourite before 03 topped it, but still i love it with all my heart and i rewatch episodes frequently. i think the voice casting was on point, i had recently finished ducktales so ben schwartz and josh brener were welcome surprises, kat graham was in perth for a con recently and i was so sad she wasn't scheduled for the melbourne run of that con and was heavily tempted to go just to see her, rise april is definitely my favourite of all aprils, while i think its a fun dynamic when April is an adult and sort of an aunt figure to the turtles, rise april really killed the older sister thing, every episode she's in is a treat, omar miller and brandon smith (am i meant to put middle/second names i have no idea) were stunning choices for raph and mikey, rise raph is so brotherly and silly, he just brings so much heart to raph, Mikey is so much fun in rise, i can get caught up in inflection and the way a line is said and there's a lot of variety with Mikey's lines, its funny and i couldn't ask for better delivery, i think they're all good at it but brandon knocks it out of the park with mikey. So, partially the blame goes to 03 but rise was also what got me into usagi yojimbo, it's kinda funny how the only show without a canon usagi is the one that kinda goes the hardest in adding him into stuff. the format of the show not getting to focus a lot on plot and mostly just being one off episodes obviously isn't ideal, but for what story we got i really enjoyed, i also just liked the one off segments, the majority of them i really liked and found funny, for me this is probably the show that makes me laugh the most out of any of them - while i tend to participate nowadays more with the 03 section of the fandom, i still love rise to my core and still interact with it here and there.

Ronin

As i said before, theres a lot of tmnt to go through, but uh. everyone talks about the last ronin, so i detoured my regular watching and reading to dive into it. I liked it, there are things i would love answers to but i might just need to reread to know because middle of reading my cat threw up and i had to pause to clean it up, so yeah- there are things i'm worried to have possibly misunderstood, like the dissolution of their treaty of sorts, misremembering or misunderstood that part of the story is a possibility but if its not that i'm still desperate to know who actually betrayed who first, what actually did the turtles/foot truce in? i haven't gone into re-evolution or lost years yet, i've been meaning to but occasionally i'll get a new shiny hyperfixation and when i return to turtles i tend to dive right into the shows or long running comics first compared to stuff like ronin. i am very excited for the game and the film, little nervous at the idea the film will be live action but i'm mostly just going to wait and see, no sense hating it before i even know what it looks like.

Mutant mayhem/tales/2023

i know i said movies last but its kind of different since the movie was before the show- so deal with it ig. mutant mayhem is a great movie, emotional, funny, i really like it, and the style translates beautifully into 2d animation for the show, i don't have much to say on the movie itself, i really liked it, i watched it with my mum who really liked it and she can be pretty hot and cold when it comes to movies. Tales is a fun show, i similarly don't have too much to say, i struggle to rewatch things i've watched semi recently because i get burnt out on it quicker, but i'm super excited to watch this iteration continue, i'll miss rise like hell but i think tales shows great promise and i'm looking forward to more of it!

Bayverse

if you're wondering why i skipped the 2007 movie its because i haven't watched it, semi similar to mirage the style is a lot, but not similar in the way that i can actually tell whats going on in 07, i just. don't like the style. bayverse is pretty controversial but i like it enough, i don't really rewatch it because the 3d models freak me out, but i love the fanart people make, i do think the character designs themselves are very good, peoples fanart definitely helps you look at them more clearly as well. I still don't visually get leo's bone necklace placemat thing. splinter in the first movie is too furless and he needs to be shot. the movies themselves i don't find too special but i don't dislike them, i remember watching the second movie because some cousins and i went out with our nan and my younger cousin wanted to watch it so we did. i had very little turtle exposure as a child but out of the shadows was part of it.

Original trilogy

I quite like the original trilogy, it's very campy but i think its a fun watch, similar to mutant mayhem i watched these with my mum, we really only watch the movies together and we had a good time, we both struggle to really take them seriously. we had to pause the first movie for a WHILE to laugh at the bathtub scene, i still laugh about it frequently and remind her of it just as often, 'i'm coming....... tO A DECISION' also was funny, the third movie is there also.

Batman vs tmnt

Holy crossover, batman. i really like this movie, as a tmnt fan and a batman enjoyer this movie is just so good, many have said it before and i will continue to say it. the movie is so full of easter eggs, i'm still trying to figure out if that portrait in the turtle van is of mikey or jennika - everyone is characterised so well, the dynamics between the batfam and the turtles is done amazingly, alfred and mikey as a duo is delightful and as always the voice acting is so good, i would sell my soul to hear kyle mooney and baron vaughn as mikey and donnie again. eric bauza is always fun to see given his history with tmnt, so seeing him actually be a turtle for once was great, i really enjoyed his performance as leo, i still can't believe darren criss is raph. i'm a gleek and a huge starkid fan and i can't hear it but i know its true. its fucking insane. the movies story and pacing is just really good, and is one of the few animated tmnt iterations to actually let people get hurt, have visible injuries and get fully murdered on screen, when i saw that foot ninja DIE die i was fucking pumped, a lot of the other video iterations lack actual tension because yeah shredder wants to murder a guy but this is family programming, so he wont and can't. but you watch people die and suddenly that hologram the foot tried to kill doesn't just feel like a 1987 thing where the one time the villains are able to do real damage its a decoy, it feels like a truly necessary precaution, had batman not done that, someone would have died, no doubt. i've spent an extended period of time analysing the easter eggs in this movie, especially when it comes to the turtle van itself, i LOVE the van design, the fact its an old rv, the call back to 87, the spare tire being an anti-foot symbol, the grafitti saying 'Foot Stinks', the April calendar with a picture of a turtle on it, its all a genuine treat. I love this movie, i think it's the best tmnt film ever, i love rise's film but to me nothing holds a candle to this. rarely do i only ever have one criticism for a movie but the only issue i have with the movie is the fact they clearly imply mr freeze DIED and that mutated batman killed him but they NEVER TOUCH ON IT AGAIN. i need directors commentary, i need a script, i need SOMETHING to tell me what happened. anyways. the fighting is so much fun, i love it, it's delightful to watch a tmnt fight and to be fully dialed in because it feels like a real fight, 03 had some pretty good fight scenes but in essence they were very cartoony in the way they won a lot of the time, i just think the batman vs fights are golden, especially the penguin fight, but again, all of them are really good.

so yeah. i have a lot of tmnt opinions, there's more i could say about each iteration individually, especially the shows, but i'll leave it with a list of my favourite characters and their iterations.

IDW Karai, 2012 and 2003 karai, they mean the world to me, i'm a big karai fan and i think they're great. of course the neutrinos, as little as they appear they mean the world to me. 2003 casey is definitely my favourite casey, second is probably idw casey. Batman Donnie is so much fun, his lack of social awareness is really played up but it feels natural and very donnie and i love the think he does where he moves his head like he's going to hide it in his shell but doesn't so he's just poking out. Rise april has my entire heart, she's the best and i'd die for her. 03 and 24/MM Leo, they're both great. really the entire rise cast has my heart. also the 03 cast but special shout out to 03 splinter he's just very sweet. i have to stop now because i could yell about even more characters forever, so last one i would say Alopex, i think she's a great addition to the franchise and i hope more people adapt her.

in case you weren't wondering because i'll tell you anyways, i do have oc's, i just don't really draw that much or particularly well so i don't post about them, i do write about them but i don't publish it bc i don't think anyone would care much, i don't really dip into oc fic either so.

so yeah. general thoughts on most of the franchise! if you want me to expand on any of the thoughts i shared here i'd be happy to but for now my fingers ache from typing so bye :3

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[hypherr]

Hi, I am contacting you because I saw you mentioned somewhere that you have adhd, and I was wondering how did you still reached such incredible level. I have adhd too, and drawing has always been my passion also. But despite a whole life of practice, and doodling almost all the time, I always had a very hard time to understand anatomy and other technics, and because of adhd, I can’t focus neither motivate myself consistently to learn technics. I am also very inconsistent to draw proper illustrations, and also struggle to get things finished. Because of this, I have the feeling that I will never improve, and I gave up my life dream to become an illustrator. So, I was wondering how did you reached such incredible level despite of adhd difficulties, and if you had some helpful tips. Best regards.

Hey dude! Yeah, I can totally give you some tips that worked for me up until I got medicated :D I know a LOT of folks have to deal with ADHD, so I’m more than happy to try and give you some advice. 

I will preface that I tend to hyperfixate on things like drawing, so I put 200% effort into learning about it and I enjoy trying new methods of painting/drawing/whatever else. It’s still moreso reliant on the individual artist, but the below list is what I do and have done that kept me going:

Make studying into something that is interesting. By that I mean you don’t have to simply draw/study a pose for life drawing, you can make it interesting by drawing a character in that pose/doing that action so that it becomes something you’re more invested in instead of something you’re doing to just get better. I usually draw my OCs in the poses that I’m studying from pinterest or whatever, and it makes the process a lot more fun -

Do what YOU want, not what others say you should do. Not every style or process is for everyone. Stick with what interests you and it’ll make your ADHD brain happier. Getting trapped into the idea of “Oh, I should be good at line art” or “Oh, I should be really good at drawing in X style” when you’re not really interested in either of those things will bore you to no end. Personally, I settled with the fact that I don’t have patience for line art, I loathe using opaque brushes, and I despise having a million layers on my paintings. SO, I don’t do a line art pass; I just clean up my sketch layer which becomes my line art, I don’t use opaque brushes, and I keep my layers really limited. My way of drawing and painting is kinda unorthodox and I always have to explain it to clients when I send WIPs (I’m srs the way I work confuses ppl, especially non-artists lol), but the end result is always what they hired me for, so there are no complaints. Plus, I am MUCH comfier drawing and painting in my own “unique” way, and they’re cool with that. **NOTE: I still recommend checking out tutorials and such, but don’t feel like the artist who created the tutorial is god and that you must follow their teachings to a T. Ex. I love the artist kawanocy, and I have some Patreon stuff from him. His art process is too slow and clinical for me personally, but I still take bits and pieces from his teachings to incorporate them into my own workflow/my own art hacks. -

Only study when you want to. Naturally this doesn’t apply to you being in school for art (sometimes u gotta cry and just study away for an assignment), but if you’re not in the mood for drawing/studying, just don’t do it. It’s fine to take some time off!! I’ve had periods of months w/o drawing, especially during summer when I was in Uni. Sometimes you need to wait for inspiration to find u again -

Study from artists you admire and it won’t feel like studying.  FIRSTLY do not steal from artists you admire, just study their work. It is fine to trace AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT POST IT AND/OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN WORK. DO NOT DO THAT. I REPEAT, DO NOT CLAIM TRACED WORK AS YOUR OWN WORK. IT IS NOT YOUR OWN WORK. IF YOU POST TRACED WORK, YOU ARE STEALING ARTWORK AND BEING DISGRACEFUL AND DISRESPECTFUL TO THE ARTIST. Tracing is fine for STUDYING ONLY because your hand follows the path of the original artist’s hand and you get a literal feel for how they work and where their pen goes. I don’t rlly do this anymore, but I used to, esp when I wanted to do some low-brainpower studying.  The main point of #4 tho is to not be shy abt taking bits of ppl’s style and using it for yourself. Ex: I really really REALLY admire the art of  @/xafeelgood on instagram. I am particularly in love with the way they draw bodies and faces. @/chenbearpig on insta has an amazing style too, and I love love LOVE the way he paints. @/kawanocy has a very beautiful rendering style, and his lighting is v dramatic and impactful.  Obvi there are more ppl I admire than just those 3, but those were a lot of my inspirations with art when I was in uni, and they helped shape my style and made me excited to keep pursuing art and trying their styles/painting methods. You have to find artists who make you excited to keep going, and just study their art a bit, or watch a speedpaint to see how they make such glorious art. It is really fun and I always enjoy trying to breakdown how they do their art stuffs so that I can try and do smth similar!! -

Don’t give a fuck about how fast other people draw, how good other people are compared to you, or your follower count. The most helpful thing I told myself this year that has sent my career and drawing/painting ability into the next level is, “I don’t care.” So what if other people are better than me? So what if I’m not the greatest artist ever? I’m still good. I’m still getting paid. I’m loving art again. I’m still trying hard. I’m just not getting that worked up abt art anymore. It’s HARD to not give a fuck, I know that, but it’s only art. It’s really not that serious. It’s not life or death. You’re just here to have a good time and work towards getting better at illustration/drawing/whatever, yeah? It’s so cheesy, but we all have our own paths to take to get to where we want to go. I have died inside realizing that people who are like 16 are 100x better than me already. I used to feel like shit and like my progress didn’t mean anything compared to how amazing other people are, but now? I just don’t care. I’m doing my own thing and I’m vibing and enjoying my drawing time, and that is all I can hope for!!

That is all I can think of right now u3u I guess a final note to leave off on is that all of these tips probably won’t 100% work for you, and that’s totally cool. Again, it’s highly dependent on the individual, but I still hope some of these thoughts and suggestions can help you find ways to make drawing fun and interesting for you. 

I hope you keep drawing and illustrating, my dude u7u that is the best way to keep getting better

[superhero--imagines]

Check out my Haikyuu Zine here! | Fill out an interest form here!

* Post Time - Skip main four, SWF, and gender neutral reader :)

HINATA

If he ever eats something yummy he’ll either save a piece, or grab another one for you

“Oh wow these are so good! I’m going to get another for (Y/N)!”

Also, if you ever don’t like something, you can count on Hinata to wordlessly finish it for you

Like you eat a bite of a cupcake and wrinkle your nose, it’s not as good as you thought

Wordlessly Hinata holds out his hand and you place the cupcake there

And just like that he finishes it for you

ATSUMU

Atsumu is all about the little things

It’s the small acts of consideration that he does for you that are special

“ ‘Sumu, you know you can go to sleep right?”

He stifles a yawn beside you, covering his mouth with his hand

“ ‘S fine, I can stay up just a little bit longer, ‘s just getting good too” he says nodding towards the flickering images on your TV

A few minutes later you feel him rest his head on your shoulder, eyes fluttering as he fights to stay awake.

A few minutes later you hear his soft snores

“Take a nice long rest okay baby?” You murmur pressing a kiss in his hair before turning your attention back to the TV

BOKUTO

If you’re uncomfortable or nervous Bokuto will draw attention to himself so the focus isn’t entirely on you

“ (L/N), can you please answer the question?” The reporter asks, you can feel sweat nipping at the back of your neck

Oh geez

It’s not a particularly hard question or anything, it’s just all these lights, and all these reporters-

You’re not used to situations like this

It’s honestly making you dizzy

“Ah, yeah our first date was to the beach!” Ko supplies beside you, and almost instantly you can feel the anxiety building in your chest start to subsided

You sigh

“That’s very sweet, but the questions was what they think about your chances in the upcoming Olympic Games”

“Same difference”

SAKUSA

Sakusa is a very perceptive boy

Especially when it comes to you

The slightest shiver and he’s passing you a blanket or his cardigan

“But what about you?”

“I don’t need it.”

If you have longer hair he carries an extra hair tie or scrunchie on his wrist, tying your hair up for you himself if he see’s you struggling

“You hair keeps getting in your eyes” he says, clumsily thing your hair up for you

I think this is especially true to medical products, but Sakusa always keeps his medicine cabinet well stoked

And he notices every little scratch or bruise you get, insisting on treating it

“ Omi it’s just a paper cut” you sat as he gently dabs antiseptic on your finger.

“That doesn’t mean it can’t get infected”

You roll your eyes

It’s pretty sweet though

[wowitsel]

a little bit of me on you

tattoo shop! calum hood x gn! reader

summary: tattoo artist calum hood lets the reader give him a tattoo

word count: 1.3k

Leaning back in your chair, you admired your boyfriend as he sat at his desk sketching a tattoo idea. A late night at the tattoo shop had led you to go hang out with your boyfriend, Calum, at his work. It was often routine for you to hang around the shop while Calum finished up. It gave you time to hang out, even with both of your hectic schedules. It was always nice to hang out there after hours, it was oddly calm.

Sneaking up behind Calum, you got a better look at what he was drawing. Peeking at his work, you enquired, “So… whatcha working on?”

Stopping his sketching to talk to you, he responds, “Ahh just a floral piece for a client. You like it so far?” As he sees you nod, he continues, “You really should let me tattoo you again.”

Calum had given you several tattoos. With the two of you dating, it felt silly for you to get one from anyone else. He always gave you them free of charge (despite the argument from you), and it didn’t hurt that he was an insanely talented tattoo artist.

It was no secret that Calum didn’t contemplate much with his tattoos. With the sheer amount of them, he really couldn’t have. Add in him being a tattoo artist, and you have a man who gets tattoos in a very rash manner.

With this knowledge, staring at the man in front of you, a lightbulb lit up in your brain as you came up with an idea. You walk up behind the man, and hug him from behind, staring up at him. “Hey Cal, I have an idea…” Intrigued, Calum nodded to encourage you to keep speaking, “What if I give you a tattoo… I mean it could just be a small lil thing, and I know I’m not the best artist but I thought it could be fun.”

Calum surprised you, and he promptly responded, “I’m down” with a smile on his face.

“For real?”

“For real.”

Now, smiling like a maniac, you quickly ran your hand through Calum’s hair, while asking him; “So, what do you want for a tattoo? Try and go a little easy on me. You are the professional here.”

Calum sighed dramatically, “Well, you could do a smiley face or a heart, it’s really up to you, I’m down for anything, my love.”

“I have a scary amount of power in my hands don’t you think?”, you said in a disney villain-esque voice.

Calum gives you a look, while teasingly saying, “well, maybe not anything”

“Can’t take it back now, darling” you reply.

You then grabbed his hand to pull him away from his desk; “Now, c’mon let’s go!”

Pulling him toward his tattooing station, and gently shoved him down onto the chair.

“So you’re just gonna free-hand this?” you hear Calum say to you.

“Umm yes?” you answered unsure of how he would respond.

Calum just shrugged it off and nonchalantly replied, “Ok”.

Now, you had watched and received enough tattoos to generally know what you were doing, so you weren’t too nervous. That being said, you were going to be putting something on his body permanently, so it was a bit of a big deal. Walking over to the table with all the equipment, you stood there standing in front of it, just wondering where to even start.

Calum seemed to have read your mind at the moment. Getting up from the chair, and asking you, “You want me to set it all up for you?”

“Yes please,” you said, giving him a small smile and taking his place sitting on the chair.

Fidgeting with the loose thread hanging off the chair, you tell Calum, I think I’m gonna do a smiley face like you said. I don’t really trust myself enough to do much else”

Calum smiled at your little quip at your tattooing skills and replied, “Sounds good baby.”

Finishing up everything he needed to do to set up, Calum brought the tattoo gun, and everything else needed over to you and took a seat again once you stood up.

“So how much will you hate me if I mess up?” you said in a jokingly curious tone.

“You’re not giving me much confidence in your tattoo skills, my love” you hear him say as you situate yourself above his arm where he wanted the tattoo.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine” you sigh as you pat him on the arm. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

As you press the tattoo gun down onto Calum’s skin, he barely shows any signs of discomfort. “Is this really not hurting? Cause you seem to just be chillaxin’ or something, babe, I don't really get it. Every time I get a tattoo I wince and whine like a little baby. Am I a wimp for pain or something?”

Calum just replies to you by saying, “Baby, I've gotten a lot of tattoos, calm down, and pay more attention to the tattoo, it's gonna be on my body forever!”

You decided to listen to Calum’s advice and focus on the task at hand. Granted, it wasn’t a very big tattoo, so theoretically it shouldn’t have taken long, but you were being extra careful and slow, because of the whole “permanent” thing.

Getting into a grove, there was a nice silence and calm feeling in the air. Getting comfortable in the chair, and used to the feeling of the tattoo, Calum started to half-sing, half-hum some random tune he had thought of.

Smiling, and listening to him, you told him, “You sound good, you should become a singer or something”

“Ha! Imagine that; Calum Hood, rockstar. I could never.” Calum says to you, and you both chuckle at the thought. Calum leans his head over to check on the progress of the tattoo as you finish the last line in his tattoo.

“I’m done!” you say to him with a big smile on your face.

Calum gives you a look of admiration while telling you, “You did amazing, I’m so proud of you baby”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, I’m gonna go get the bandages and all that other shit so it doesn’t get infected or something,” you say getting up.

“Look at you being all professional, huh?” Calum says with a teasing smile.

“Yup!” you start to walk away when you realize that you have no idea where any of that stuff is; “So… ummm, the thing is…”

“You need me to get it for you?” Calum slyly says.

“Yes,” you squeak out meekly.

“I got you, baby,” Calum says while walking toward the supplies drawer.

After making his way back, Calum starts to put on the petroleum jelly on the fresh tattoo, and tries to put the bandage on himself, but struggles because of the position of the tattoo on his arm.

“Here, let me help you,” you said, grabbing the bandage out of his hand.

Wrapping it around his arm, you kiss the fully wrapped tattoo, and then kiss Calum on the lips. “Thank you for letting me do this Cal” you whisper against his lips.

“Thank you for not messing up,” he says, making you laugh.

“Now come on, let’s go cuddle on the couch”

After making your way to the waiting area of the tattoo shop, Calum plops down onto the couch, so he’s laying down on it, and pats the space next to him signaling for you to lay next to him, which you do.

As you lay down on the couch, Calum wraps his arm around you and kisses you on the forehead.

“This was fun,” you whisper to him.

“Yeah, it was.” you hear Calum whisper back as you see him start to yawn.

“You tired baby?” you say as you snuggle into him more.

“Yeah” Calum says weakly as you see him slowly fall asleep.

You smile at him as you begin to fall asleep yourself, so happy.

[smutty-ki113r]

🎠Laughing Jack🎠|| Carousel

Fluff one-shot x gn!reader— only warning is angst (2.6k)

Inspired by: Melanie Martinez

After months of endless nagging you finally convinced Laughing Jack to let you visit his amusement park. He had claimed it was too scary and you would get creeped out but you weren’t one to take no for an answer.

Giving you a piece of candy so the trans-dementional trip wouldn’t be too hard on you. Tasting the sour lemon taffy he gave you and making a tense face as the flavor pulled at your taste buds and stuck to your teeth.

Your head getting dizzy as your surroundings warped and his room became red and white vertical stripes. Blinking a couple times as he leaned into your face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You told him, almost falling back at how close he was. As soon as your perception adjusted you looked for the exit to the tent you were inside. “Onward!” You said excited, marching comedically to the entrance flap.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place”, he called from behind, catching up with ease because his legs were so long. “You need to stay close to me at all times” you smiled at him, it’s not like you were complaining, “got that?”

Giving him a keen nod you stepped out of the grand tent. Squinting at the sky, which was tainted a dusty gray, swirly clouds amber of scattered around in the background. The carnival was beautifully revolting, with littered attractions as far as the eye could see.

The place looked somewhat abandoned, if you get past the faint cries of children, from their souls stored in toys. Rides that once colored a vibrant red had paint chipped, specks of dull metal flaked over the bars.

Game stands broken down and leaning unsteadily, disturbing toys with eyes and limbs missing hanging from the top. It looked like it might fall down at any minute, but you couldn’t help but notice the newer looking boxes of supplies lying around next to the stands.

Fairy lights hung from the tilted signs, decorating the food court. A fresh trail had been made between the rides.

It warmed your heart that he had made subtle efforts to fix the place up, he certainly didn’t think you would notice.

Looking back at his nervous smile, Jack was terrified you would hate the place. You thought all but the opposite, giving him a big grin. Your expression relaxed him, assuring him that you wouldn’t think he was a freak and leave. His whole demeanor shifting, making him more comfortable and even enthusiastic.

Straightening out and giving you jazz hands, “what are you waiting for?” putting one hand on his hip to motion you to the park with the other “lets go have fun!”

Following behind you with a giggle as you approached the carnival games. The ring toss looking somewhat appealing in between the other activities, so you told him you wanted to play.

“Basically you get 5 rings, if you get at least 3 in the pins you win a prize” he explained.

“Alright alright lemme try” you waved him off, snatching the rings and giving one a toss. It missed, you brushed it off. The second one made it in and Jack gave a little cheer, it still wasn’t enough.

Hyperfocusing on the pin in the middle make a soft throw upward, the edge hitting the top of the pin and falling to the side. You gave a groan, calculating your last two throws.

Your forth throw made the pin to the side, and you only had one more try left. Aiming for another pin at the side to release, the ring clanging against it and falling to the floor.

You went to look at Jack with a frown but he wore a happy expression, “you won!” He exclaimed. Confused you turned back, finding the ring you had just tossed around the last pin. You were completely certain you had missed it, racking your mind for an explanation as jack handed you a small purple bunny that was missing an arm.

Realizing that Jack had manipulating the game so you could win, throwing him a knowing glance. He just happened to be looking away, whistling guiltily.

Squeezing the bunny you moved onto the next game, it was ballon dart toss. The stand had pale red and black balloons scattered across a board. Excitement was written all over his face, you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a two person game!” He said, “whoever pops more balloons wins!”

He handed you four darts and kept four for himself, “you can go first” he motioned with a grin. Pacing the dart in two fingers a couple times before throwing at a balloon. Giving a groan when you missed and waiting for him to go.

Being as skilled as he was he managed to land one in a bullseye. “Oh it’s on” you dared, getting one point yourself. LJ got the second one too, staring at you intensely as you evened out the score.

Giving him a small smile as the dart broke the surface of the balloon with a sharp noise “pop goes the weasel right?” You laughed, referring to his famous song.

He looked at you almost in shock, taken aback by your joke. Shaking himself into reality he broke out in a light blush, a part of him touched, as if you were accepting him for who he was.

Too distracted by your eyes on him to play the game with concentration. Missing the third one with a growl he waited for you to take your turn, which you lost. It was the last point and Jack was a shoe in, so obviously he took the victory.

You were happy for him, passing along a “good job!” as he retrieved the big brown teddy bear that was half his size, and all of yours. It was missing an eye, thin stands of makeshift fur pulled out and a silky red bow around it’s neck.

“Here” he said, dangling it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked, “but you won”, trying to look up at him but the bear blocked most of your view, only letting you see above his nose.

“Just take it” he practically pushed it into you, making you blow out an oof.

Holding it to the side at the torso with one hand you broke out in a grin “thank you for the plushie” you said, hugging him from the side and squeezing his torso “but I want you to be my teddy” you laughed. He looked incredibly flustered, frozen as you broke away.

“You’re big and tall” you tippy toed up to give his shoulder pad feathers a ruffle “and fluffy”

The man looked like he was about to faint so you decided to knock it off, laughing and telling him you wanted to go on the carousel next. Quickly, LJ happily led you too it, skipping in front of you (mostly to hide his blush).

Standing at the controls to cue a round, watching you walk around to find a pretty horse. Given, all of them had dark spots and chipped paint, but they worked all the same. Leaving the bear on another horse and climbing onto a white one that had a yellow saddle, intricate lacy designs patterned on the sides. Royal blue reigns across it’s chest and a lion on a crest.

It was beautiful, and you traced your fingers on the drawing. It must have been stunning, but the weathering of time and agony had gotten to it. A painful reminder of what was, a mere reflection of the chipping away of a joyful being.

Prying away from your thoughts as you felt the vibrations of Jack stepping onto the walkway- with one of his big smiles. Even after everything, he still wore a smile. It made you want to tear up, he really needed all the love he could get.

He was too tall to get on a horse, so he just stood by you. His big hand gracing the golden pole and holding on, watching as you peeked up at him. Even though his eyes were constantly bright he displayed something…deeper. It was a sort of shine, a sparkle if you will, luminosity glazed over in such a way that one can only get lost in its vastness.

The looped music in the background was secondary as you rose up and down with the horse, giving Jack a little smile and thanking him for bringing you here. “I’m having a lot of fun with you” you noted.

“Well of course you are! It’s a carnival” he said with joy.

“No I mean with you” you clarified “you’re pretty great Jack”. This time he didn’t avoid your gaze, his mouth open slightly, not knowing how to react to the sincerity of the compliment.

The ride slowly came to a stop, and you were feeling slightly tingly. Maybe it was the air, or the loss of focus. “How about a roller coaster?” You dared, to which he gave a tense face.

“Those are pretty broken, you’ll probably die riding one and that’s not what we want” he said, stepping off the carousel. “How about some cotton candy instead?”

You nodded your head vigorously, following him in the pursuit for the fairy floss, the bear falling behind forgotten. Passing by more unused rides that had long past rusted and a house of mirrors to get to the food court.

Jack humming happily as he dipped a paper cone into the bowl of revolving fibers of sugar. Whipping up a swirly pink and blue cotton candy and handing it to you with a proud smile.

He went to make another treat until you spoke, “I’m not that hungry so we can share” you proposed. “If you want”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned that you didn’t have much appetite. “Do you want some candy or maybe a funnel cake?”

You shook him off, taking a bite out of the cloud-like dessert. It was absolutely delicious, honeyed and saccharine on your tongue in a blend of flavor you had never tasted had before.

Soft as it disintegrated onto your mouth, leaving behind a remanence of something too sweet. Bringing it up to Jack, who was so tall you had to extend your arm fully to get it to his mouth.

He simply laughed at your struggle, taking a bite before giving you a thin smile and taking it from your hand. Sitting down at a bench so that you could both share comfortably.

By the time the candy had finished you noticed little bits of the silky texture stuck on his nose. Painfully stifling a laugh you turned away.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a genuine smile.

When you didn’t answer his tone changed, “what’s so funny huh?” he sounded a bit angered.

Hiccuping through your laughter you faced him, leaning in real close to his face, enough so that you could feel the heat emanating from it; taking a bite of the pink woven candy on his nose and holding it in your teeth.

His face went red at the sight, embarrassed that he had cotton candy on his nose. Well, that and for a moment he thought you were going to kiss him.

Noticing your hands were all sticky you asked him if there was a sink somewhere. After both of you washed your hands you sat back down at the bench.

The sky was going dark, the poofs of dusty cloud fading in with the night but still managing to remain visible. You heard a whirr as Jack turned on all the rides at the carnival, lighting the whole thing up.

You sat in awe, a mere spectator in the empty yet live amusement park. Admiring the music that added to the ambiance, watching Jack approach you.

“Wanna take a walk?” He asked, but there was something…off. LJ seemed nervous as you got up and walked next to him.

He had been thinking about it for a while now, probably even before he brought you to the carnival. Even though he had washed the gooey candy from his hands they were still sticky, but it was from sweat. Giving you side glances as you paced the trail with him.

Debating to himself whether or not he should do it, if you would hate him for it. Telling himself that he would regret it if he didn’t, but thinking about the potential negative reactions you could give.

Passing the carousel once again as you noticed the usually loud and happy clown was silent, lost in thought as he stared into the distance, his lips forming a tensing line.

Wondering if he was ok, but brining up the topic might make him uneasy. Perhaps you being there at his haunted amusement park was ticking him off, or if you taking that cotton floss off his nose was too much, or if you were pushing your luck, or worse what if you triggered hi-

All thoughts faded from your mind the moment you felt a slow, shaky hand grasp onto yours. You had to look to where he held you because he was so gentile you thought it was the wind. Holding onto you softly enough that it felt like a feather, somehow still creating a little pocket of warmth between you.

A glowing thump of heat pulsing inside your chest, happiness digging into your cells and giving you the confidence to squeeze his hand.

He let out a sharp inhale at the feel, still avoiding your gaze as he relaxed into your touch. Not daring to move his hand too much or he might risk ruining the moment, afraid of hurting you with his claws.

Approaching the Ferris wheel he finally spoke, “this is probably the one ride that won’t break”, not a peep about holding you. “Do you want to go on?”

You finally caught his gaze, absolutely melting at the smile in his eyes. Responding with a ‘yes’ and letting him open the door for you. Sustaining his grip with you as he helped you on, not letting go even after you sat.

The cart wasn’t exactly small, but with a guy the size of Jack it was pretty compacted. It’s not like you minded, the lack of space gave you an excuse to bunch up alongside him. The feathers from his pads tickling your face as you rested on him.

Watching the view as the cart took you higher and higher, it was perfect. The evening set in the rich obscurity of the night, lights of the festival blinking as if they had a life of their own. The bulbs on the stands making z’s as they illuminated the red and white drapes of the far off tents.

Jack held your hand with such care and caress, you gave him a reassuring press to let him know it was ok. He was so enveloped with the passionate act that he squeezed as well. Letting you feel all the dips and curves of his hand. Clutching onto you, as if you might disappear too.

Facing him to cup his cheek with your free hand, caressing him and tucking a stand of hair behind his ear. Trailing your thumb across his skin and feeling him lean into your touch, swearing that between the lines on the pad of your finger there was a tear that you had wiped away.

Getting lost in the breaths you shared as you inched closer to his lips, giving him a second of warmth longer to prove that you weren’t going anywhere.

[cannibal-witchh]

Stu Macher

Quick Headcannons

Written by cannibal_witchh

Upon dating you, Stu will have no shame in his display of physical affection for you. He will drape his arms on you, scoop you into his arms, plant kisses all on your face, and constantly ask to give you piggy back rides

Unfortunately, Stu will struggle to find a balance between spending time with you and committing to hanging out with Billy. Billy tends to pull him away to do something "important" frequently 🔪

Whenever he returns to you, he returns with great energy, shaking, hoping up and down, and giggling

He'll try making up for lost time by asking to bake with you and enjoy a movie afterwards

You are left with more of the baking then Stu. Sadly, Stu cannot focus well and creates a huge mess whether it's baking mixture flung around or burning it to a crisp

But he is just happy to watch and wrap his arms around your waist while observing you bake

After finishing making snacks and cleaning up, the two of you relax in the living room and put on a movie

Surprisingly, Stu tries to infrequently suggest a romance comedy. Neither of you care too much for it but Stu likes to challenge the guys in it and ask you questions about if he or the actors is funnier or more romantic

" I am wayyyy funnier!", " Babe, I bet I'm funnier!", or " Pshhh, I totally would've done this if that were you and I."

Either way he finds himself successfully making you chuckle throughout bits and pieces of the film

Throughout the movie, he'll be a major cuddler. He'll get blankets to wrap the both of you in, and he'll rest his head either on your shoulder, chest or lap

Occasionally, he'll brush his finger tips along your arms, legs or neck

"Just checking to make sure your alive! I don't want you to ever disappear..." 💔

Once the snacks are ready, he'll bounce up and down hyping up how wonderful your cooking is

He'll try reaching for it the minute you pull it from the oven and you'll swat his hands away from getting burned

" Babe! I'm hungry!", he'll complain

When the snacks finally cool off, the two of you grab a big plate to put them on and begin eating it back infront of the tv

Stu will suggest making popcorn and complimenting it with chocolate for the next movie you both watch after shoveling down your baking

" Stu, after we eat these and finish the movie, I'll need to go to bed."

" Please babe, one more!", he'll beg and it's impossible to reject those cute dimples and those pretty blue eyes

" Fine but one more!"

Stu will always manage to draw out time with you. The closer it gets to time the more anxious he tends to get. He'll play it off with his teasing and joking but really he's sad

He has a great attachment to you and doesn't like leaving you alone

" I just want to know you're safe."

[zulivaris]

Art Block tips that helped me

 I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time:  When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate. 

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence. 

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck”  I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence.  The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it  Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

[mitts2002]

JJK pottery dates

Hii I've already made a separate inumaki fic on this so he won't be included. I was originally meant to do this for one character but I've decided to do multiple cause I can😌 Also I've never done pottery so I'm just winging this!

Itadori Yuuji

Yuuji would assume that he's gonna be a natural at pottery despite being both your first time

But yuuji would definitely not care about the end result of it

As long as he has a good time with (Y/N) that's all that matters

He'll accidentally use too much strength when handling the clay. Instructor tells him he's too heavy handed

(Y/N) on the other hand is doing pretty well. Shes almost done shaping and is ready to add some decorations

This is when Yuuji realises he does care about the end result because his looks like a complete mess

To cheer him up (Y/N) engraves Yuujis name into her pot and gives it to him as a gift.

You also offer to take yuujis piece in return

(Y/N) uses yuujis clay thing as a place for small trinkets and earrings

Yuuji uses (Y/N)s pot to plant a cactus

The couple had decided to go on a cute little pottery date for their first date, so why was Yuuji pouting in the corner?

Well at first (Y/N) and Yuuji were having a great time together. Messing around and quoting stupid memes and movie references was just their thing so when it was actually their turn to make something Yuuji had no idea what he was doing.

(Y/N) despite messing around with him had actually paid attention to the instructor and was doing just fine which made matters even worse for Yuuji. He assumed this would be a piece of cake when in reality it wasn't.

"Yuuji stop sobbing in the corner babe, it doesn't even look that bad!" You clearly lied to him but you knew it was for his own good.

"NO ITS TRASH look at yours (Y/N) so nice and pretty no one would ever want mine! Now I'll never be the world's best pottery maker" Yuuji babbled on just being his overdramatic self.

"Well I'd love love yours! I could put my jewellery in it, I needed a new trinket box anyways" you quickly thought on the spot and sighed in relief when Yuujis head perked up

"Really?" Yuuji sniffled and grabbed onto your waist. "Yeah and ill carve your name into mine! Then give it to you as a gift. Equivalent exchange" you winked at Yuuji knowing its an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Okay deal" Yuuji sat back next to you working on your trinket box while your worked on carving his name into his plant pot.

Choso

Choso was trying to learn more about the 21st century

How did he do this? By binge watching old rom coms on netflix.

In the middle of one of the movies a pottery scene comes up and chosos eyes couldn't shine more bright.

He loved the idea. It was a great way to spend your time with your loved one.

Choso immediately rang (Y/N) and demanded she arrange a date, which she did

You and Choso couldn't find any classes near you but looking at Chosos pout and puppy dog eyes begging to find a way you had no choice.

(Y/N) did the next best thing and decided to buy a beginners home kit. Now you both sat in the living room with newspapers littering the table and large aprons on yourselves.

"Okay so let's read the instructions first" you picked up the small booklet and looked over to Chosos who couldn't contain his excitement.

His buns were a little messier than usual as he rushed them the moment the package arrived but he still looked cute nonetheless. "Let me set it up then I guess we can try make a bowl? That seems to be the easiest option" you suggested while flicking through the pages and setting things up.

"Can we make a plant pot? I wanna give yuuji a plant for his birthday" Choso proposed. "Aww that's actually a great idea yuuji would love it!" You exclaimed in return and motioned him to come closer as you were ready to begin.

Choso had sat you in between his legs and leaned his head on your shoulder. His hairs tickled you and butterflys fluttered in your stomach when Choso began to kiss your cheeks slowly inching down to you neck.

"Oi behave" you ordered trying to sound intimidating but just burst out in laughter instead. "Fine sorry sorry let's focus on the pot" Choso apologised giving one last kiss to your head.

The pot was forming nicely but was a bit wonkey due to the hand size difference between you both.

Neither of you could care though, the intimacy of his hands on yours, music playing in the background and laughter filling the room from your stupid stories and Chosos dad jokes he recently learnt was just what Choso wanted.

The plant pot had turned out to be very cute and Yuuji ended up loving it.

Kamo Noritoshi

Kamo noritoshi was brought up in a strict household

During his childhood he was expected to be talented in many areas

Archery, studying, drawing, poetry, crochet, painting and even pottery were part of the many skills kamo noritoshi had devloped

The moment (Y/N) had learnt that the vase and other ornaments in noritoshis room were hand crafted by him she wanted to learn too

Now Noritoshi is sitting here behind his girlfriend teaching her how to make a vase because she wouldn't stop pestering him

"Noriii STOP being so perfect!" (Y/N) had yelled at her confused boyfriend who was simply decorating his clay piece.

"You wanted to do pottery with me and now your doing it. What's the problem?" Norotoshi sighed and turned to look at your vase. If he could even call it that.

"If you were struggling you could've asked me for help" Noritoshi scolded while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah well I wanted to do it myself" you whined and crossed your arms in defeat.

"FINE help me please it's way harder than it looks" you admitted as nori made his way over to you.

"Firstly you need to be more gentle, it's wet clay not a damn rock (Y/N)" he corrected you and put his hands upon yours.

"Your hands are cold" you whispered to him feeling his slightly calloused hands touch yours.

"Focus (Y/N)" he responded equally as quiet as you. The room fell into a comfortable silence as your and nori moulded your vase together.

When it was finally finished you kissed noritoshi on the cheek. His cheeks turned slightly red but he kept his composure.

"It's fine (Y/N) just don't break it okay" the black haired male reminded you since you were quite clumsy.

"I promise I won't! But next time you have to do this call me and I'll join"

After this date, pottery became a common occurance for (Y/N) and Noritoshi. (Y/N) kept her promise and still fills her vase with flowers nori buys her to this day.

Okkotsu Yuta

Yuta okkotsu was a nervous wreck

You were given free tickets to a pottery event and asked Yuuta if he would accompany you

Of course he agreed without realising what he was actually getting himself into

The couple were currently at the event extremely close to make a bowl together

Yuuta could feel your hair on his skin and wanted to lean closer to bask in your presence

The moment he finally mustered the courage to lean onto your shoulder a little interruption had scared you both

'Okay Yuuta you got this. My wonderful (Y/N) is focused on the bowl so just slowly lean onto her' Yuuta thought to himself before looking towards his hands that were on yours. 'I GOT THIS' Yuuta had slowly inched closer while you continuously spoke so close to achieving his goal.

"IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!' a young girl with pigtails and pink bobbles yelled at Yuuta. The pair had jumped and practically ruined their bowl but yuuta couldn't care less. His chance was ruined.

"Yuuta she asked you a question" you reminded him and causing the black haired male to turn back to the small girl

"Ah yes this is my girlfriend" He responded with a small blush. "Well she's very pretty!" The cute child exclaimed.

"Thank you sweetie you're very cute too" (Y/N) cooed at the small girl and patted yutas arm telling him to compliment her aswell. Before yuuta could speak the young girl had beat him to it.

"OH YOU MUST BE ON A DATE! Sorry I ruined your bowl" she apologised looking down in guilt for interrupting you both.

"No no it's okay don't worry about it" Yuuta reasured and patted her head giving her a soft smile. (Y/N) blushed at the sight of her loving boyfriend with a child and gave the girl a quick high five before she scurried off to her parents.

"Wasn't she the sweetest little girl yuuta?" You asked and got a small 'hm' in response. "Our bowls a bit messy but I think we can salvage it right? Come closer so we can fix it properly" you grabbed his arms pulling him closer to you. Maybe that little interruption helped him after all.

[shadowworks]

Look Inside

Pairing: Overhaul X Reader

Warnings: Dubcon-noncon, medical kink, drugged sex, mention of needles, mentions of blood, bondage, fingering, this is dark! 

Word Count: 3.8k 

A/N: I decided to try some creepy themes and give second person a try. So we’ll see how it goes. This piece is dark so please mind the warnings!

Huge shoutout to @present-mel for making the beautiful banner and reading over my fic you precious gem! Also thank you @thisisthehardestthing and @hisoknen for your feedback it’s so greatly appreciated! 💜

Someone had shut off the lights in the morgue. 

You happen to notice this when your eyes toil lazily between security cameras at the right time. You freeze on the spot, and quirk a brow toward the shadow. You expect it’ll brighten any second like it usually does, but after those few seconds tick by without change, a weight of dread sinks in your stomach.

Kai Chisaki put orders in place that if experiments are up and running the basement levels are to remain lit. Chisaki and his men are already down below, and the winding pale halls near the morgue are empty.

 You haven’t been called to notify cleaners about another bloody corpse still peeling off the wall, and you can’t find motion on the surveillance camera when you rewind the recordings. It’s in the lower right corner of the camera, and you note the light flicks off without warning. No one enters, no one leaves. 

You study the harsh glow of the screen for another moment, still in denial, still waiting for the lights to flicker on, and stand up from the chair in the office. When not a soul appears by the threshold, all you can do is lean forward with your hands pressed on the desk, dropping your head in defeat. “Seriously? Fuck you.” 

You don’t know who “you” was exactly, but it felt right to say. 

It takes a bit of time after departing the small office, but you find the proper hall in Chisaki’s deeply looping maze...It’s just you don’t want to step out from the elevator. You were ready before, but when the doors split open and the cool air ghosts against your cheeks, you pause. There’s a stillness lingering in the hallway; it’s far too quiet- except for the creaks in the elevator floor from your shifting weight...But, something seems off. 

  Your steps are tentative when you do slip out, peering down the drab hallway. You clearly see which of the rooms is buried in shadow, and frankly you want to whirl back around before the doors close. But you can’t, well, not yet at least. The tap of your shoes hits off the walls, while you tread along on stiff legs. Eventually you come to a stop having reached the doorway. It’s partly open, a slice of darkness hiding what’s deep inside. 

Hold on, this can't be right. The camera— A shudder trails up your spine. It tingles coldly.

You inhale a deep breath. Okay, just do it; just switch the lights back on, it’s fine. It’s fine. Besides, if it were you (which it is) you wouldn’t want to deal with Chisaki’s ill temper over something so minor as a light. 

He’s punished his men for incompetence before, and those who didn’t listen have smeared the walls with their blood, drenching vein red across white. Black-looking goops of muscle plopped on the floor...the consequences ranged based on severity of failure or how stressed he is, really. In fact, one man had the skin of his face torn off for talking back—wait, relax. Focus

It won’t happen. Kai Chisaki is somewhere else in the maze. He’s not aware of what happened.

There’s a member with a quirk which lets him melt through walls; the tiny one with a bone white mask. He probably slipped between the rooms and grabbed something then turned the lights off. But that didn’t explain the door...

It doesn’t matter.

You stretch an arm out, gently pushing the door further open, and light spills onto the tile floor. 

It’s a cold, vacant room. There’s a pungent scent of bleach still lingering from a cleanup, but it hits your nose almost like it happened recently. You can’t see much nor do you want to. And your hand reaches around the door frame, trailing gentle fingers along the smooth surface for a switch—

Only, there’s nothing on the wall. 

“Are you serious? Really?” you huff to yourself, stepping round to search for the light. Sure enough, your fears are realized with one look. 

You let out an annoyed groan, and a, ‘stupid switch’ under your breath. Who the hell designs a room and doesn’t put a switch by the door? 

Your eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark, so you can’t see the precise details on the walls. So this leaves you no choice but to step further in, allowing the brightness from the hall to guide you along.

It’s a moderate room with a vaulted wall filled with metal drawers, all large enough to fit an icy corpse in ‘til the yakuza dispose of them. Then there’s the silver surgical table in the middle of the room. It's empty, but the thing’s embellished. There’s protruding belts attached, and a tray on wheels is parked on the side. On top of the tray is a clean towel and a neat row of surgical tools lay flat across. 

Your brows scrunch together, studying the sharp gleam of knives and the sizes of needles. Why are these out? Kai’s an obsessive clean freak, every little thing needs to be put back and organized. All his masked cronies know this rule, so who the hell did this? That is, unless someone’s using them?

Your back is turned to the glow seeping in from the hall, so you don’t see a gloved hand press on the metal door. There’s a push, and the door slams shut. 

You let out a startled yelp, cupping your hands to your mouth. What the hell…! Your heart’s pounding wildly in your chest; for some reason the room feels colder, you feel colder. 

“I must say this is disappointing.”

Light floods the room from the panels above, flickering with a buzzing noise before they settle. You take a moment. A deep breath, a slow exhale. When the initial shock stops tingling in your muscles, you slowly drop your palms. The voice is male, his tone’s calm, ominous and it carries like chill over your shoulder. You know this voice; you know you have to turn around. But fuck, you can’t stop trembling. When you do, you see a tall figure looming near the wall, a gloved hand still on the switch.

Kai Chisaki. 

“I told Setsuno I needed him in the security room. Do you think it’s hard for him to follow directions?”

You stare at him, anxiously. He isn’t wearing his green coat with the violet plumage trimming on the collar. He’s in his iron pressed, black suit and grey tie; the trademark plague mask covering half his face. 

“Setsuno asked me to fill in. He said he wasn’t feeling well...I guess,” you manage to say it as steady as you can. 

The lanky blond hadn’t given you a clear reason when he staggered towards you near dawn. But if you’re being honest, you didn’t really care.You barely looked his way at breakfast, choosing to stare into your dark coffee cup than at the katana resting on his shoulder. The sword was still wet with blood, and you knew he’d been out all night. Though right now, you sorta wish you pressed him more for details.

Kai mutters something slightly bitter, words that are muffled against the material of his mask. But you hear him sigh, then his tone turns crisper. “No matter. It’s inconvenient, but I can work around these...changes.”

His arm drops to his side, walking from the wall. And unexpectedly- those peculiar eyes you see leering at his enemies, have now fallen on you. 

You seize up in mild panic, the pupils in your eyes shrinking; not knowing what to do. You take a scuffling step or two back on reflex—and knock your hip against the table corner. 

Oww—ow, fuck. Hold on, what’s he doing? Why—Your voice bubbles in your throat as you watch him draw near. Though it’s strange, for Kai doesn’t pull at the rim of his latex glove like expected, rather, the Shie Hassaikai boss happens to steer past you instead. 

...Huh?

Your neck cranes, loose hair spilling over your shoulder. He stops a couple feet away and tilts his head downward in front of the tray, no longer regarding your presence and focusing on his work. 

You stand there awkwardly, just listening to the clinks of metal fitting together in Kai’s grip. You’re not fully understanding though, should you leave? It looks like your job’s finished now that your boss is here. Besides, you’re pretty confident Kai doesn't want you here if he’s occupying the room. 

In the long pause between you two, your mind’s made up which prompts you to retreat back and aim towards the door. They’re slow, careful moving steps. 

“Well, you seem busy...I should probably hurry back and watch the cameras,'' you say dismissing yourself. You’re partial toward the comfort of the smaller office, and any chance you have of leaving the macabre storage space you will eagerly take it. 

You don’t make it to the gleaming doorknob—because Kai’s voice holds you still. It isn’t loud, but it grips the room. “No stay. There’s no need for you to leave so soon.”

A mix of fear and confusion read across your features. Kai has never spent a moment alone with you. In fact, you aren’t actually part of the yakuza. The only reason you’re associated with the fallen crime syndicate, is because the former boss offered you odd jobs as a favor. You needed some work to keep from struggling and he had taken a liking to you, sort of how he did with Kai. But then, the leader collapsed. 

Now you aren't sure where you stand. Chisaki is in charge.

“I believe there’s something you can do for me. Will you have a seat on the table?” 

You aren’t sure if you heard him right, or fully grasp what he means. He says it so casually-  but you know better; it’s a demand. You’re just not sure why.

“I’m fine. Really. I should be going-“

“Are you defying my order?” Again, he says it so nonchalantly. This time Kai turns his head over his shoulder; the look he gives is almost impassive, yet there’s a menacing gleam in the yellow of his eyes.

“What? No, I was…! Right.”

You don’t exactly drag your feet, but you do stand hesitant before the edge of the table where countless bodies have been dissected. So much blood, so many organs harvested on this very table.

“I won’t ask you again.” 

You turn around robotically, eyes pointed downward as you hoist your hips onto the metal. The table’s surface is icy, it numbs your fingers the longer you lean on it, which only makes you fold them against your thighs. 

“Roll up your sleeve.” Kai says by your right, holding up a purple band. Your gaze flicks up immediately, nervously, a silent plea for mercy. As if somehow your glossy and delicate eyes will make a difference. But it does nothing toward Kai’s stoic stance. He simply waits, and his own steely eyes narrow back.

You drop your head with a wince; just do as he says. 

You comply, pushing up your long sleeve. Though you make a point not to help much more than that, leaving your arm limp at your side. 

Kai doesn’t seem to notice or care and proceeds to wrap the rubber around your arm. You grimace, unpleased as his fingers skim your arm, and again when he brushes you with a wet cotton swab. 

“You need my blood?” You ask evenly. 

His eyes don’t leave your skin, “Not necessarily.”

“A lot of effort for, ‘not necessarily.’” You say, not too dryly. 

“You’ve seen my work before, you should know by now I take great care in everything I do.”

Kai rotates between you and the now rolled over stand, dismissing your light jab. He sets up the port for blood to flow; all in a well practiced motion. It certainly makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before. 

“I’m curious, when was your last doctor's appointment?” He asks suddenly, hands already prepping the next instrument. The other needle probably, but you don’t want to play as his patient. He isn’t your doctor, for fucks sake.

“A while.” You answer. 

“A while,” he repeats with a subtle chuckle under his covered breath,“Has anyone told you before you’re a feisty one?”

You bite your tongue and refuse to meet his side glance. When you don’t reply back, he carries on with a sigh. 

“I’ve had quite a long day you see, so I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my tolerance for stubborn little girls.”

Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder, and all too quickly you find yourself thumping against the cold metal, your horrified eyes staring up at the bright ceiling. The next thing you feel is buckles fastening, pinning you against the table by your waist and elbows. 

You're flooded with tingling panic, voice cracking from strain, “Hol—Hold on one second. Please, just one more—”

“—You know they say you should never let the lamb see the knife? Their fear tampers the meat, and ruins the flavor,” Kai gives a sharp tug on the last belt. “But I find yours all the more intoxicating, my dear.”

You stammer, words of protest mingle together as you attempt to be heard, “I don’t understand, why are you…Just stop. You need to let me go!”

Your teeth clench together in a rage that fills your chest. You’re not thinking rationally, your nerves are unhinged. And in your adrenaline high your leg curls up, thrashing a viciously blunt strike toward the point of his beak.

 Before it can connect and batter the bridge of his nose and mark his cheekbones, Kai’s arm flexes quickly. Your foot stops mid air as he catches your ankle with constricting force. 

“Do I?” He asks with a title of his head, there're subtle creases in the corner of eyes, you can imagine his mouth settles in a cold smile beneath. 

In that moment you freeze up. Your lash lines burn, stinging with fresh tears glossing your doe eyes. You don’t breathe, you don’t dare to expand your lungs. Your only thought is begging him not to burst open your calf. 

“You shouldn’t be giving commands. You work under me now,” his nails dig in your flesh, and you know those indents will marr your flesh.“Meaning you’ll have to bear with me while I continue.”

Kai doesn’t loosen his hold, briefly watching your pained expression. But he favors dropping his gaze below to study the stretch of your thigh, your exposed and parted groin. It’s then his nimble fingers reach to unclasp the button of your jeans and he gently pulls down the zipper. You cry out, jerking against the belts, but he isn’t fazed. 

“One of our new drugs is supposed to relax its victims...recently it’s been ineffective if the heartbeat’s racing too quickly, though we’ve made modifications to counter this. My plan was to stage a fight with Setsuno, until...you graciously took his place.”

Kai lowers your leg, both hands roaming across to the edge of your jeans. He still studies you, and decides to push up your ribbed sweater, letting the cold bite of the morgue chill your hips. His latex fingers trace lightly across your pebbled skin, skimming down the dips to your thighs. 

“Yes, this will do just fine. You’re pretty enough,” he muses, softly.

He then tucks his hands into your waistband, yanking them down your legs, before they fall to the floor with a plop. The seamless panties slip off easily, as well. This sends a small prickle through you, and, no, this can’t keep going! The fight in you surges, pushing your knees together to shield your groin. Only Kai doesn’t like that. 

There’s something cold and dangerous in his glare, a threat that twists at your stomach. He’s warning you; don’t make this worse for yourself or you’ll make him snap. And you didn’t want that...You watch both his hands clutch your knees, he doesn’t waste time and he yanks your legs apart, taking in your pretty cunt.

Angry tears trickle down your cheeks in response. Your throat burns from holding back a sob, “Chisaki, please. If you would—“

 Without a moment of hesitation, Kai knowingly finds where to touch you first. A little too skillfully for a false doctor, the pad of his thumb presses against your soft, sensitive nub, stroking tight circles with focus. Your breath catches, falling heavier while he sinks his pad deeper in the forming slick, building steady pressure.

“Still so stubborn, what good will that bring you?”

A broken moan spills on your shaky breath, all against your better decisions. His other hand settles between your legs, and a finger plunges inside your heat, curling upward and massaging the rougher layer of flesh. A sharp gasp inhales into your lungs. He isn’t stopping, no, Kai’s gloved finger moves with vigor the more your pleasurably laced cries pour out from your lips, how desperate they become.

He pushes in a second finger, and then a third thrusting in, stretching you and soaking your walls with your arousal. This causes you to push your hips further against his latex hand. 

“Kai, you fucking bastard!” you sob out, formalities be damned as your back arches. You can feel the building pulses in your cunt tense up, losing yourself to your superior on an icy slab in a fucking morgue. 

“You curse my name as though you’re not enjoying this,” Kai mocks.

 His fingers pump deeper, tightening your abs and your lips fall open. His matching rhythm on the bundle of nerves surges in a crash, sending a hard orgasm that shivers through your body. For a moment, just a little moment, your cares fade away. 

You're left breathing deeply, staring up at the ceiling as your chest rises and falls. The euphoria lasts a moment longer, but only for so long. Reality sets in as you lay there, and much too soon, the warmths gone. 

Kai takes advantage of this.

With your chin tipped up toward cabinets lining the ceiling, Kai unfastens his thinner belt. It’s only when you feel him hook under your knees and pull at your thighs that you snap your head up in startlement.

Kai’s venomous eyes stare you down, “I suggest laying back down little girl, we’re not finished yet.”

“Like hell!”

A second flare of rage strickens across your features, a hard glare that doesn’t unyield, especially as he unzips and withdraws himself from formal slacks. You know he’s relishing in your disdain for him, and this makes you thrash on the belts, hoping to force them apart. Of course, Kai did a good job of fastening these fuckers and simply chuckles at your attempt. 

“You’re still not understanding the position that you’re in,” He slips a hand in his pocket, and pulls out the wrapping of a condom. Taking his time, tearing it open, rolling the rubber down his thick length with precision.

 When Kai’s satisfied, his arms reach for you and grab at your hips, giving them a sharp yank forward. He leans in with a darkly low voice, “You can’t escape me. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

“...You lean any closer and I’ll spit in your face.” There isn’t any bite to it. It’s a calm, empty threat and loses all its appeal as a single tear spills down your cheekbone.

A huffing noise emits from his mask, with his lids narrowing in mild disgust. You catch the words “filthy woman,” rasped low and nasally before he does lean back, wrenching at the skin around your hips. 

When he’s all settled Kai lines himself to your heat, in a slow motion he draws himself inside. You almost don't hear it, but from the mask you note a soft hitch in his breath. He gives shallow pushes and pulls on your hips, an experimental dip that splits you in a painful stretch before he pumps fully into you. They’re slow, long strokes, filling you to the brim.

Another strained gasp rips from your wet lips, and your hands impulsively spring out, clenching the black cloth of Kai’s sleeves. His hips snap quicker, and your breath picks up with him. Heart pounding to his thrust; you can feel the beats in your neck. 

And all of a sudden you hear the sound of plastic clasping together, the squeeze of an injection clip the shell of your ear. Your eyes snap open in horror. What—?

Kai locks on your facial features, his deep pumps lessen though the slapping of skin doesn’t stop. “You’ve been too tense. Why don’t you relax for awhile?”

When did he..? 

He prepped it. The syringe must’ve been tucked away. He did have this all planned. You were just the unlucky one who walked to the table and sealed your fate. 

The serum he injected into your bloodstream has fast results it seems. The tension in your muscles slack against his thrusts, allowing him to carry your body closer and take more of his length. You feel the tension in your wide eyes soften, slowly falling half lidded and weak. 

“That’s a good girl, you're taking to the drug faster than I thought,” he muses a little breathless. Right after he sets the syringe back down, a gloved hand reaches for the strap fastened around his head and pulls. The mask slips off.

It’s at this point he hikes his knees up onto the table and pounds in deeper, letting your walls suck him in. Your body’s folded, and Kai treats your body in any way he desires.

You manage to pull your head from his sharp eyes, your cheek bouncing slightly against the icy metal to Kai’s rhythm. The drawers for the deceased are taken in.

You stare intently. 

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No.” He manages between breathes, his voice is heavy and laced with lusting growls, “This is merely a precaution. In the event...ah, in the event you overdose...well. You’re in the right place.”

Your head lolls back to Kai meeting his delicate face which is now flushed. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him behind the mask. He’s beautiful. Soft featues that compliment him so well. If only he wasn’t so cruel...

“In fact, hah, if you survive...I think this will be the start of something new in my work.” He manages the last bit with a shaky chuckle. 

You see him smirk wickedly, and all you can do is watch, because it doesn’t stop. The only sound in the room is the liquid squish of sex, your mixed heavy breaths. And you hope, god do you hope in your hazy state, feeling a numbness taking hold of your body, that you leave this room alive.

[luckysevenwrites]

Let’s enjoy this moment of peace and quiet

Kun and Y/n find themselves enjoying a moment of peace and quiet while everyone else in out of the dorm. The two have a relaxing time together and take this time to talk about their feelings.

Part of the long term couples series

Walking into Kun’s room you quietly make your way towards his bed and crawl in next to him. He has a book propped up on his chest his other arm tucked behind his head. Your crawl over him and cuddle up next to him. Using his chest as a pillow and slotting one of your legs between his. You turn your head a little to plant a kiss on his chest before resting once again on his chest. Closing your eyes, you take in the feel of Kun next to you and relax further into him. The two of you hadn’t been able to see each other at all this past week what with him being busy recording and your week was packed with shoots.

           You were glad that the two of you were finally able to spend some time with each other. You feel Kun shift, and his arm comes to wrap around you his hand resting on your hip. He starts to draw mindless patterns on your hip. You open your eyes and glance up at him to see that he is still focused on his book. Looking at the book you see that he is reading a book of poems. You start to read the one poem but aren’t quick enough before Kun turns the page onto the next set of poems.

           “What’s the reason for you reading a book of poems?” You ask after you finish one of the poems. Kun lays the book onto his chest and looks down at you. You tilt your head back to look up at him. His dark eyes study you and he bring up his hand to along your jaw and then the brim of your nose.

           “Just looking for some inspiration,” he taps the tip of your nose causing you to scrunch it from the action.

           “Are you not feeling inspired lately?” You didn’t realize that he was having trouble writing. You wonder how long that has been going on for.

           “No, it’s not that I can’t come up with anything,” he assures you, “It’s more that I feel like a lot of what I’ve been writing is the same. And I figured I would try something else this time and see what happens.”

           “Are you worried that what you’ve written isn’t good,” you hedge trying to understand exactly how he is feeling. While Kun had many great qualities being open about his feelings was not one of them. The two of you sometimes had arguments because you both struggled at times expressing how you felt. It was something you were both working on and you wanted to be here for him if he was having feelings of doubt.

           “I’m sure it’s fine but I want to try and write something different. I guess I just want to push myself and try something new. Does that make sense?” He asks. You smile up at him. Leave it to Kun to take it upon himself to challenge himself to try something new.

           “It does,” you tell him, “Just make sure that you’re doing it because you want to and not because you feel like you have to. You’re already an amazing song writer and I don’t want you thinking that you have to push yourself to be better when you are already great.”

           Kun smiles down at you before he leans down towards you to press his lips gently to yours. He pulls away from you much too soon for your liking. Scooting up his body you chase after his lips and hear Kun let out a laugh at you before he connects his lips back to yours. When you two breaks apart it’s you who ends the kiss.

           “Do I get to see the new songs that you have been working on?” Kun wraps both his arms around you causing the book to slide off his chest and onto the bed.

           “Nope,” he tells you and kisses the tip of your nose. Your mouth pops open, and you start to squirm trying to get out of his grasp.

           “What are you doing?” Kun laughs as he tightens his hold on you. You continue to try to get out of his grasp.

           “If you aren’t going to show me your work. I’m going to go find it myself. You are terrible at hiding things, and I figure I’ll find it in five minutes or less.”

           “Alright I’ll show you, my work. When it’s finished,” he tells you, “Later right now I want you to stay right here with me.”

           At that statement you stop trying to escape from Kun’s hold. He really was a big softie and you the truth was you didn’t want to go look for his songs anyway. You would much rather spend your time in bed wrapped up in Kuns arms. Settling back on top of him. You nuzzle into his chest and let out a content sigh. Kun loosens his hold on you and settles down into the bed. He picks back up the book he was reading and starts to flip through the pages trying to find where he left off.

           When he finds the correct page his one hand returns to your hip and the two of you lay in silence as he reads, and you let your mind drift. The place is quiet, and you start to wonder where the rest of his members are. Usually, the place is filled with noise. It’s weird not to hear other people’s voices, music, or the tv.

           “Where is everyone else?” you question.

           “I’m not sure. I think some went to the studio and others went out somewhere. I wasn’t paying attention and was just excited to have the place to myself.” Kun shrugs.

           “And enjoying not having to be on leader duty for a bit?” Kun was a great leader, but you also knew that sometimes he needed a break.

           “That too. Sometimes it’s nice to just have the place to myself and not have to interact with others.”

           That was understandable. There were many times yourself that you just needed some time away from others and to just focus on yourself or to be alone and not have to worry about interacting with others or taking care of someone.

           “Does that mean that you want me to leave?” you start to tease, “because with me being here defeats the purpose of you being alone.”

           “No, I always want you here. I will always want you to be around,” the truth in that statement makes your heart melt.

           “I’m telling the others that I’m your favorite,” you inform him and Kun for his part gives you a soft smile before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead.

           “Go right ahead they already know that you are my favorite.” That was probably true. Kun probably told them all while he was scolding them that you were his favorite or you could see him telling them that he only get’s his favorite person food and it’s not them.

           “I’m still going to tell them just to rub it in their faces!”

           “Make sure you do it when I’m around so I can see their reactions.” Kun tells you, “Now shh let’s enjoy this moment of piece and quiet who knows how long we’ll have it.”

           “Okay,” you kiss Kuns chest and snuggle into his chest. He goes back to running his fingertips up and down your side and before you know it your eye lids start to droop and your you find yourself sleeping.

           Kun looks down at your sleeping form. You look so peaceful as you sleep. He had missed you this past week and was glad that you were able to come over today. Setting his book on his nightstand Kun rolls to his side and gently moves you onto the bed before pulling you into his side. You tuck your head under his chin and your one hand curls around his shirt. Kun kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep himself. As he does, he thinks how he would like to spend everyday like this. With you in his arm, in his space.

[hughiecampbelle]

Being The Smartest Shelby Would Include:

Polly knew you were smart from the start

She said so when you were a baby, but of course no one believed her

Everyone thought their kids were special, but you really were

Born just a few years before Finn, you weren't the baby, but you definitely weren't the oldest, so it was hard to be taken seriously

It started with your homework

You spent a lot of nights trying to tell your siblings it was just too easy

You weren't just getting every answer right, you were finishing pages of work in minutes, faster than anyone in your class

Eventually, you moved on to your brothers work

Finding it discarded on the table, you recognized Johns scraggly handwriting

He'd only made it halfway through, so you decided to finish it, even fixing some of his mistakes along the way

You wanted to show them what you'd done, but of course no one listened

At least, not until you stood on your chair and demanded that someone look over your work

It was a bit dramatic, and made for an embarassing story later, but you wanted to be heard

They did, finally, and they were shocked

Tommy handed it to John, who passed to Ada, skipping over Arthur, who eventually got it to Polly

"Well?"

"It's right, all of it. . . ."

"Fuck."

It wasn't just math though. You were reading every book you could find, even the ones your siblings struggled to get through

You had a knack for puzzles, for figuring things out no one else could, able to pull things apart and put them together just in your head

Polly knew, and she was going to do something about it

Anything she could find to keep you entertained, occupied, your mind at work, she'd bring it home

You had an incredible memory too, remembering everything from the contents on the back of bottles you brothers drank from to entire speeches Polly gave when all of you were misbehaving

It was amazing, to say the least

You were a kid when your brothers went off to war, so it was mostly Ada and Polly who spent long nights with you at the table over homework

You didn't think it was fair, that you were forced to stay in school when none of your siblings were

Polly called it a gift, said you shouldn't take it for granted

She had big plans for you, the kind of career kids like you could only dream of

Finn grows up with you reading to him every night

Even helping him with schoolwork, though that didn't last very long

It still irks you Polly let's Finn drop school, not even getting past reading himself, but you know better than to push the subject

By the time your brothers come back, thankfully all in one piece, you've become a bit of a myth or legend around the Small Heath

Not only are you taller and with more acne, a young teenager, you've made a name for yourself, and a business

After school you could be found with a hat on the ground, getting pocket change for your "abilities"

Showing off and splitting the money with friends, you put on shows

Memorizing the faces of strangers, drawing them almost perfectly by hand, reciting lines of poetry from class all from memory, etc.

Sometimes you bring Finn along, promising candy for his silence, making him part of the act

Your favorite is showing off the languages you've lesrned, switching between Romani, French, Italian, and German (to name a few) without a second thought, so effortlessly

Arthur caught you once, but instead of saying anything, he simply cheered you on, laughing at the fact that your business was doing better than the familys

You spent a lot of time in the shop like Finn, growing up there, but never really allowed in on business, not even to listen

Instead you were ordered to be quiet and focus on your studies

And you did, for a few years, slipping notes to John about what you thought would improve business, pressing your ear to the door to listen, putting up with being categorized as "one of the kids" with Finn

And then you made an announcement, one that almost killed Polly

You weren't going to university, and instead you'd be joining the family business

Your aunt put up a good fight, but your brothers were more than happy to welcome you, with rules of course

Ada wasn't too thrilled either, knowing how smart you were, and how special it was, but she wasn't going to stop you

Pol was, or at least she was going to try

"You could be anything you want y/n."

"And I choose this."

"You're-"

"Wasting my potential? So you've said."

You'd be more behind the scenes, working on the business side rather than the side with razors and guns

Your brothers were more than happy to hear that, though you'd gotten more than a few comments muttered by Pol

If you really wanted to, you could always be a doctor or a lawyer later in life, for now this is what you wanted most

You were finally part of your family

Within the first week, you have a full list of what could be improved and you're center stage in the family meeting

To say that was nerve wrecking was an understatement

Tommy had his doubts, of course, but John knew you'd been keeping their heads above water for a long time

"Go on then, you've got our attention."

You were the one they went to check over the books, the numbers, catching mistakes no one else did

It wasn't just spelling mistakes or addition issues, you were taking stock in inventory, in all the bullets that were wasted, the little things that went missing that no one seemed to notice

It didn't take long for you to work your way up, prove yourself not only to Tommy, but Pol too, showing her this wasn't a waste of your time

She's still not thrilled, but you're as stubborn as the rest, and she knows it's a losing battle

At least you're being smart with your work

Tommy made you check over every contract and agreement he made, making sure he didn't miss a single detail that would screw them over

He brought you to the races too, working out probability, though your math was shaky at best under that kind of pressure and uncertainty

You were the one counting the profits and losses too, weighing the options of whether or not to invest

You're really the only one who knows just how much the family makes

That is a dangerous thing in itself

You make friends quite easily

Not only can you speak an array of languages, bonding with everyone, but you've got that Shelby charm and good looks, too

You're quite popular, though your brothers constantly get in the way of any potential relationship

You're smart though, and not just for their gain, but yours too

If and when you're ready to date, you'll find a way

Alfie adores you

Tommy drives him mad, but he'd have you over any day

Not only does he love the fact that you can keep up with him, witty beyond belief, but your Hebrew is perfect

"So, you're the brains behind the whole operation?"

"Something like that."

You're brought along to a lot of in person deals

You pick up on things no one else does, remembering the littlest of things that can and will be weaponized if need be

Their kids and spouses names, the way they look at you, how they speak and carry themselves

It doesn't take long for you to know exactly who they are

"They're lying Tom. I know they are."

"How can you tell?"

"They look away when they answer, their eye twitches, and they always lean forward when they're saying something true."

"You got all that from a five minute conversation?"

You're not only their beloved little sibling, but the perfect weapon

They don't teach you how to use a gun, but you've been watching for years, making note of every tiny detail

When you do use a gun, which is inevitable, it's a perfect shot

Arthur and Tom insist you carry something with you, but you're fine sticking with a simple razor

The guns can stay with them. . . .

Not only does it come in handy with work, but your family, too

You pick up on the way Arthur escalates, talking him down before there's a full outburst

You know the nights Tommy does and doesn't sleep just by the sound of his voice, the way he signs his name

You know when to check up on Ada if she's not doing well after Freddies gone, even if no one else can see the hurt in her eyes

That's the thing everyone seems to forget, is that you're not only book smart, but people smart, too

Constantly making fun of your siblings right in front of them

"Pol, y/n's making fun of me!"

"I am not! You don't even speak Russian."

"No, but I can guess."

He'd never admit it to you, but Finn really is amazed by you

Ever since he was a kid he always looked up to you

School and homework and all that never came easy to him, and it lead to him giving up, so the fact that all of this comes so easy makes him proud to be your brother

"Y/n, curse in a language we all know or don't say it all."

Along with learning weapons along the way, you pick up on how to be a nurse, tending to whatever it needed

From your nieces and nephews scraped knees to bullet wounds

"Do not get blood on my new shirt!"

No one really suspects you to be listening or watching the way you do, so when they need it, you go "undercover"

Gaining the trust of the enemy, pretending to be a stranger that just so happens to get their attention as if you hadn't been figuring out what makes them tick, distracting them with drinks and small talk

If anything goes wrong, you picked up on how to get away, how to fight without getting too much attention, and not just by watching

With a memory like yours, there are some things you'd like to forget and can't

A lot of things do leave you with nightmares, with flashes of panic, with this dreadful feeling in your gut like you'd seen it all before

At one point or another you've called your siblings and aunt in the middle of the night, just to check up on them, see if they're okay

Begging your brothers to be more careful

They rarely ever listen though

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't go on a date."

"Nope, not until you're forty."

"Come on Arthur, you can't scare them all away."

Despite all this, you're still treated like a child

Your siblings still see you as that smart little kid correcting their work and growing bored of even the most complicated things

No matter what you do or say, you'll always be small in their eyes

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 29: Prinxiety/Loceit (pt 4)

Aaaand, part 4, the finale! 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 29:  You have a telepathic link with your soulmate until the two of you meet.

Content warnings: discussion of conversion therapy/after effects, PTSD, food mentions, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia, mentions of the foster system/abuse (mental, emotional, neglect, past eating disorder), minor self harm/blood, mentions of dissociating.

Word count: 5.1k

Despite Roman’s claims that being around other people would only distract him, and he didn’t want to have to walk to the library every time he had homework, Patton’s constant pleading eventually broke him down. Now, much to his roommate’s delight, they spent every night in the middle of the study floor in the library, and Roman found that he actually looked forward to it. Sometimes someone he knew would walk by, and give him a valid reason to take a short break, and having other people around somehow motivated him to work harder. He was starting to understand the appeal of the place. 

Now, Patton and him were spending their afternoon there between classes, both working on their own projects and sharing a bag of popcorn twists. It was the only oil soaked snack that didn’t leave much residue on their fingers. Roman was deep in thought, struggling to remember an especially flowery Shakespeare monologue for a mock audition next week, when Patton kicked his leg under the table.

“What, Pat?” He took another moment to finish the sentence before he tore his eyes away from the book, surprised at his roommate’s barely contained excitement. 

“You’ve been humming for half an hour!” 

He hadn’t even noticed. He tended to do it a lot without realizing; humming along to his soulmate’s music. Ever since he’d come back almost a year ago, an occurrence he’d never had explained but held onto with fondness, Roman’s heart jumped every time his music played. It was just like old times, their old system immediately reinstated, and more than once he’d found himself singing along to the melodies in his head. Patton knew this, and could probably tell by the genre whether Roman was listening to his soulmate’s songs, or just had his own earworm.

“No, no, no, I like your humming! That’s not the point!”

“Then what’s the-”

“The guy behind you has his earbuds loud enough to hear!”

Roman strained his ears, and yes, he could barely hear the music coming from behind him. He definitely hadn’t noticed before, too deep in thought to notice something so trivial. But Patton was always on high alert, never able to keep his mind on one thing at a time. 

“Okay, but what does that ha-”

“You’ve been humming the same songs as he’s been listening to for half an hour, Ro! I think he’s your soulmate!”

Roman’s eyes widened and he spun around, effectively dropping his book onto the ground. Yeah, if he concentrated, he could tell that the song in his head was the same as the one just audible through the other’s earbuds.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive!” 

That’s all the convincing Roman needed. He jumped to his feet and rounded the other table so he was face to face with the stranger and knocked on the table a couple times. When he made eye contact, he thought he saw fear in the other’s face, but that couldn’t be right. Roman was not intimidating. The man at the table reached up to pop out one of his earbuds. 

“Hello lovely, I have a question for you,” Roman purred, dropping onto his elbows on the table. 

“I- I don’t-”

Apparently that counted as a meeting, because in that moment, the music in Roman’s head faded into nothingness. And he could tell it wasn’t just the music being paused. He was left with a neutral emptiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, a silence that was rare, and an innate knowledge that it had happened: their link was no longer necessary and had dissipated. Roman grinned wide, barely concealing a squeal. 

“You’re my soulmate!”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting, but he sure as hell hadn’t expected the man at the table to get up and sprint out of the building at full speed. 

“Stay here, Ro,” Patton was suddenly at his side, laying a hand on his bicep, “I’ll go after him. I don’t know what just happened but I don’t want it to happen again.”

Patton scooped up the other man’s things from the table and jogged out the library door.

-----

Virgil didn’t know where he was going; he hadn’t planned on running out of the library. Dammit, he hadn’t planned to run into his soulmate. And he knew that was his soulmate, and not just some weird coincidence. Because the moment they’d locked eyes, it was as if something in his mind had snapped, like a rubber band that had always been there but the pressure was so constant he didn’t notice it there until it was gone. Their bond had snapped; it was no longer necessary, because he’d met his soulmate. 

He recognized the guy, just barely. They were in the same first year math class, a course often taken by upperclassmen (probably like his soulmate) because they’d put off getting a math credit until their final years. Logan had warned Virgil of that when he was choosing his first year courses, and so he was safely getting it out of the way so he could focus on his major in the coming years. 

His breathing was choppy and strained as he tried to calm down his panic attack, dropping onto the ground under a large tree. He couldn’t keep running lest he collapse and draw more attention to himself, and that was far worse than anything he could imagine. Fighting the urge to scratch at his skin, he buried his head in his hoodie clad arms, fumbling with one hand to free his phone from his pocket. 

It’s actually a guy, it’s a guy, he’s gay, wrong wrong wrong-

No, not wrong. It’s not wrong.   

Yes it is, it’s going to hurt, you’re going to hurt, wrong wrONG WRONG!

His hands were shaking far too hard to text but he tried anyways, begging Janus to come pick him up early. Logan wouldn’t be done work for another couple hours, and usually Virgil would be fine just doing homework until his dad was ready to drive them home, but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle being on campus much longer. 

“Hey, kiddo?”

Virgil’s head jerked up just as he clicked send, fighting every urge in his body to bolt again. It wasn’t the guy… his soulmate… but someone else he hadn’t met before, panting. 

“Heya, my name’s Patton! You ran out without your stuff, so I brought it!”

Oh, he was holding his backpack, and his folder under one arm. Virgil was just trying to encourage his legs to move, to stand so he could take his things, when the stranger dropped into the grass in front of him. He flinched. 

“Here ya go,” He pushed it towards him like a child trying to coax out a scared cat, “I’m so sorry me and Ro scared you. He just gets over excited sometimes. I promise he’s actually very gentle.”

Virgil stared, pulling in a halting breath. 

“The guy who ran up to you, that’s Roman. I’m his roommate, by the way. I’m Patton. Did I introduce myself? Doesn’t matter. I’m a third year psychology major. Roman’s in third year too, music and theatre major.”

He should probably introduce himself too, but his hands were frozen, clamped around his phone, and he found his voice wasn’t cooperating. That didn’t deter the other dude, though.

“Here, I wrote out both of our numbers. Roman feels super bad for scaring you, so you can take your time, if you want.” He delicately placed a ripped piece of notebook paper on the backpack between them, “His is the first one. But I put mine in there too, so you can text me if you want to talk. The more friends, the better.”

Virgil’s phone buzzed, alerting him of Janus’ response.

“I’ll let you be, okay? Remember to text!” With an exuberant wave, he dashed back to the library. Virgil read Janus’ panicked message, asking what had happened, in a bit of a daze. His dad agreed to come get him, so he stuffed the paper into his pocket and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

-----

Janus had asked him not to go into his room when he was so worked up, instead giving him free reign of the living room while the older restarted the dinner he’d abandoned in favor of picking his son up. He’d turned on the TV for Virgil, changing the channel to a nature documentary, given Virgil his favorite weighted blanket, and left him with strict orders to call him if he started spiraling or needed a hug. 

The distraction had worked for a while, the soothing voice of the narrator almost lulling him to sleep, until his racing brain had come to the conclusion that this was the worst thing to ever happen in the history of ever and that he was going to die alone. He’d been a little hopeful that his soulmate would be a girl, to somewhat appease his trauma, but life was never that easy. A part of him had also been a little miffed about that hope, because as much as he liked to pretend, he had a preference for boys. A big preference. And his soulmate was cute. 

“Everything okay, Virgil?” Janus called through the pass through window into the kitchen, taking his eyes off his food preparation to watch his son’s pacing. 

“Yup!” He lied, picking and scratching at the skin of his hands out of his dad’s view. The pain settled him a little, giving him something he could control, but he knew he’d get a figurative slap on the wrist for it later. A concerned slap, not an angry one. Maybe more of ‘a cuddle on the couch and wrap the little patches of broken skin and an update with his counsellor’. So not really a slap. At all. As it usually went. 

Everything was wrong. What kind of shit first impression had he given his soulmate? Getting up and running away like an actual child? And that was only part of it. He was damaged goods, a broken person, who needed more help and reassurance than any other person. How could he explain to his soulmate that he was the cause of his problems without making him feel guilty? That wasn’t the life the man had signed up for, wasn’t the soulmate burden he’d wanted. He would want someone easy, someone who wouldn’t have panic attacks when they got shocked by a door knob, who didn’t stop eating when they were scared, who pressed pause on life when he woke up in a dissociating headspace. He couldn’t say that to him. He’d lost everything, that vague musical connection to an invisible soulmate, that had given him a subtle hope. It had been a quiet illusion, a promise that he’d be fine if it were never fulfilled. Knowing there was someone out there, providing him music, had been enough. But now…

“Virgil, hold these for me.”

When had Logan gotten home? He put his hands out obediently, clenching the fingers over the ice cubes placed in each palm. The sensation startled him and sent a shiver up his spine.

“Four, seven, eight. Ready?”

He followed the breathing pattern eagerly, feeling the curls of anxiety in his stomach slowly settle into butterflies. When he was breathing normally, an overwhelming sense of dizziness almost knocked him over. Logan took his arm and led him to the couch.

The next moment, Janus was kneeling in front of him, rubbing disinfectant into his few bloody scratches, the melting water dripping through his fingers and onto the carpet. 

“I should have noticed,” he murmured as he stuck a couple bandaids onto each hand, refusing to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself, Janus. I don’t think it was happening for too long,” Logan assured, running a hand down Virgil’s spine. “Did this have to do with the reason you left school early today?”

Virgil nodded.

“Are you nonverbal?”

“No,” he choked, clearing his throat, “Just dry throat.”

“I got it,” Janus leapt to his feet and hurried to the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh, Virgil leaned into Logan’s side, the hand on his back traveling to wrap around his shoulder comfortingly. The last drops of the ice cube hit the carpet, and he dried his hands off on his jeans. “I met my soulmate today.”

“I see,” Logan said. For the umpteenth time, Virgil was beyond grateful that Logan was an expert at masking reactions. It made difficult conversations easier.

“It’s a guy.”

“How did that go?”

“I ran out of the library and had a panic attack. His roommate brought me my stuff and gave me their numbers. I made an idiot out of myself.”

Logan was quiet, giving Virgil a little squeeze. A water glass was pressed into his hands and Virgil downed the whole thing, passing it back to Janus, who placed it on the coffee table. 

“I think… I think I’m magnifying. Maybe.” He described his thoughts that led to his spiral as quickly as possible, feeling slightly pleased when Logan agreed with his hypothesis. 

“You are definitely magnifying. Good job for recognizing that, Virgil. You don’t even know him, much less what he thought of your interaction.”

“What’s our next step?” Janus spoke up, resting a hand on Virgil’s knee and rubbing it with his thumb.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can you sleep on it, and message him tomorrow?”

Virgil thought about for a second before shaking his head even harder, “No. I have class with him tomorrow, and we’re getting a study guide for a test. I can not miss it. But what if he comes up to me, or wants to talk, and I embarrass myself again, and-”

His dads both hushed him at the same time and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes against Logan’s side. “What do I do?”

“You could message him tonight,” Janus drawled.

“Are you crazy?” He shrieked, “No! What would I even say? ‘Hey, you freaked me out today, sorry for running like a lunatic’?!”

“Why not explain the cause for your hasty escape?” Logan piped in.

“That’s way too much to load onto him as a first conversation.”

“Not all the gory details, just a vague explanation. That’s how I started talking to Logan,” Janus stated, adjusting his position on the floor. “If he’s your soulmate, Virge, he’ll be okay to deal with this. It’ll come out eventually, and if something else happens, it will be nice for him to have some context.”

Virgil groaned. “I hate when you make sense.”

“We can help you construct an adequate message.” Logan squeezed him again, meeting Janus’ eyes with a small smile.

“Fine.” Virgil snarled, pulling out his phone and the two numbers, typing the first one into his ‘new contact’ list. “Okay, what do I say?”

-----

V: Hey, I’m Virgil. We met earlier today. In a manner of speaking.

R: OMG, hi! I’m Roman. I am SO sorry for startling you!

V: It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. 

R: I still feel bad DX

“He feels bad, what do I do?!”

“I would suggest explaining the reason you ran off to ease his concerns.”

“Me too. But ask first, and don’t give more details than you’re comfortable with.”

V: Can I be brutally honest for just a second?

R: Should I be nervous? Haha go ahead!

V: I was forced into conversion therapy about a year back, and I still carry a lot of the trauma with me. That’s why I ran. It was just gut instinct.

“He’s not responding, oh god, he’s going to block me, why isn’t he responding?!”

“I assume this news would take a moment to process. Focus on your breathing, Virgil. Don’t magnify.”

“You also sent it, like, ten seconds ago.”

R: Holy shit, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. 

“...That’s not what I expected.”

“This is a regular reaction from a human being with even a lick of common sense, Virgil.”

“Seconded.”

V: It’s okay, I have a really great support system now. 

R: That’s good. I’ve never experienced anything like that, so I can only imagine how hard that was. 

R: I don’t expect you to answer if you don’t want to or don’t know, so please don’t feel pressured, but do you know what kind of soulbond we have? Is it platonic?

“Shit, fuck, who do I answer that?”

“With the truth, I’d imagine. Do you have an answer to his question?”

“Remember what I told you, kid. Your own pace.”

“Logan, if I explain it, can you put it into words? Please?”

V: I’m not averse to a possible romantic relationship in the future, but at the moment I am still learning to become comfortable with myself, as I have negative connections to that part of my identity that can become problematic if not properly worked through at my own pace.

R: Give me a couple seconds to decode that

V: My dad wrote it, he’s a prof. I have both of them helping me not freak out right now. 

R: You might want to date one day, but you need to take it slow because of your trauma. 

V: Uhm… yeah. I could have said it like that. 

R: Is talking to me upsetting you? We can always talk another time.

V: No, I’m okay. 

R: Okay, then as far as I’m concerned, we move at your pace. That’s not an issue for me at all. 

“I… oh. He’s… wow.”

“I agree with your sentiment.”

“I like this boy already.”

“DAD!”

R: Your dad’s a prof? 

V: One of them is. He teaches at our school, Prof Sanders. 4th year chemistry?

R: Oh shit. I’m in his class.

V: Lol he thinks he knows you

R: You have two dads?

V: Yep

R: That’s so cool. I’d really love to meet them.

V: Wow, we met today and you’re already wanting to meet my parents?

R: Heeey, I want to meet them as a FRIEND. 

V: My dad says after the semester’s over, you’re free to come by

One at a time, Virgil’s dads left him on the couch with an ear to ear grin, Janus to reheat dinner and Logan following him just so he could cling to his husband's waist as he moved around the kitchen. Neither of them wanted to disturb the little bubble their son was in. 

-----

In the weeks following, they’d started to sit together in the one class they shared. Virgil had begun to join him and Patton on their nightly library study sessions, and after some more gentle convincing, had given in to sitting with their whole friend group during meals at the cafeteria. He was growing more comfortable with Roman, no doubt about that.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting off an anxiety attack as he waited by the door to get picked up for their first outing alone.

He kept checking his phone and glancing out the peephole as Janus ran calming fingers through his hair. Virgil leaned into the touch instinctively, consciously slowing his breathing as Janus hummed. Logan was watching him from the entrance to the hall, leaning on the kitchen door frame. There wasn’t much he could do, but dammit if he wasn’t going to watch his son go off on the most anxiety inducing situation of all of their lives.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Janus muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “You’ve been friends with him for a while now, and he said there were no expectations. You’re in total control here.”

“What if I have a flashback, or a panic attack, or go nonverbal or something? He’s going to freak the fuck out and then all the work will be for noth-”

Logan spoke up. “You’re worried about things that may not even happen. And besides, haven’t you spoken to Roman about these things already?”

“A bit. Not in detail,” he whispered.

“I would suggest you do so, today if possible. It will make any possible situations that arise easier and less jarring to deal with.”

Virgil looked up at Janus, a pleading look in his eyes.

“He’s right, kid. The sooner you get it out of the way, the better.”

There was a knock at the door and Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin. To his disdain, Janus backed away until he was next to Logan, gesturing at the door with a small smile. Virgil growled out a curse and opened the door, the scowl on his face melting into a sickeningly authentic smile.

“How’s my favorite emo? Hi Mr. Sanders, hey Prof.”

“Hello.”

“Salutations.”

“Your favorite emo?” Virgil snarked, pulling on his jacket. It wasn’t cold, not in the slightest, but he’d rather have the extra layer.

“You’re the only emo I know, so the choice is easy.”

“By process of elimination, doesn’t that also imply I’m your least favorite emo too?”

“Don’t start this again, Mr. Son-of-a-professor.”

“I’ll start it if I want to!”

The door closed behind them with one final wave to his parents, and the house was quiet. Janus leaned into Logan’s waiting arms, resting his head on the other’s collar bone. 

“He’s all grown up.”

“That he is, my love.”

-----

Virgil smirked as Roman set out a large cliche picnic blanket, gesturing for him to sit. He did, crossing his legs and leaning on his knees as the other began to unload the basket. 

“Okay, so for sandwiches, I have turkey, peanut butter and jelly, and ham. Patton made me bring apple slices because he’s a dad, but I’m sure we can convince the ducks to eat them.”

To prove his point, a group of ducks paddled out from under a weeping willow half submerged in the creek.

“I like apples,” Virgil defended, grabbing a slice from the open container and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “How many people were you intending to feed with that much food?”

Roman pouted from behind a container of potato salad. “I had to show off my food skills, duh.”

“You made that?” Virgil asked with raised eyebrows as Roman set out a tin of mini quiches and a smaller one stacked with brownies and cookies. 

“The cookies were Patton’s, but he insisted I take some. And I would have bought more, but…” He tipped the basket towards Virgil, revealing the bottom absolutely filled with different canned drinks and water bottles. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.”

Virgil actually did laugh as he stretched forward to snag a Doctor Pepper, taking another apple slice as he sat back. 

“Do you have a sandwich preference?” Roman asked, choosing a Sprite for himself. 

“Turkey looks good.” Virgil said before his choice paralysis could come into play, breathing a sigh of relief as Roman handed one of the sandwiches to him. The less stress he added to his own life, the better. 

Roman had been right to bring an assortment of food, because dammit, he was a really good chef. Virgil was nervous to try a quiche, since he’d never had them before and the texture was odd to him, but Roman assured that if he didn’t like it, he’d eat it instead. Apparently he wasn’t eeked out by germs. After a nibble though, Virgil ate almost half the tin. Who knew cold eggs could be good? Roman took the ham sandwich, and they split the PB&J. The ducks were more than pleased to be given Roman’s half of the apple slices but Virgil refused to share, since fresh fruits were still a treat after a life of preserves. The younger wasn’t a huge fan of the potato salad, so Roman eagerly finished it, seemingly more excited to move onto the desserts but not wanting to leave any leftovers. 

They were just finishing up the frankly absurd amount of cookies and brownies when Roman broke their casual bickering, chasing a chocolate chip bite with a long swig of Sprite and tossing another apple to their swarm of awaiting ducks.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself, Virge.”

“What do you want to know?” Virgil replied, leaning back on his hands. 

“Anything, really. Childhood, siblings, favorite color, darkest fear.”

“Quite a spectrum, there.” There was a lot he could talk about, but he felt it might be better to get the bigger things out of the way. Janus was sort of the leading expert on this kind of thing, so his advice had probably been sound. He brushed his hands together to get the crumbs off them as he spoke, “Okay, so I grew up in the foster system.”

Roman tried to hide his wince. “Ouch. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

“It’s fucked,” Virgil drawled, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, “I spent most of my time in a group home, though, because I was called ‘difficult’. No one wanted to deal with my ass.”

“Why?”

“Mmm, ran away, didn’t listen, talked back, antagonized any biological kids.”

“So like, a normal teenager?” The last apple slice was sacrificed to the feathered hoard. 

Virgil snorted, “Yeah, but I came with a receipt. And I kind of liked the group home more.”

“How many kids were in the home?”

“Never more than fifteen. It was a big home. But they circulated, and I was like a housecat. Never gone for more than a month.”

“Jeez,” Roman sighed, taking a sip of his soda. 

“My foster homes weren’t better.”

“Oh?” It was a subtle encouragement to keep talking, but now it was getting into territory that Virgil liked to avoid. 

“One of my foster houses was really neglectful, forgot to give us food, didn’t let us do laundry, that kind of stuff. Gave me a wicked ED. I was twelve.”

Roman grimaced.

“My next one was more emotionally and mentally manipulative. I was kind of made into a babysitter for their younger bio kids. I had to get them ready for school, make them dinner, just basically be a parent. After I ran away from them, they started having trouble placing me. I was older, had a shitty record, kind of a left over. I mean, I deserved it. I was a dick.”

“You were a kid, Virgil.”

“A kid who chose to make his own life harder.” He shrugged, “That’s why I was placed into… that home. They were a last resort place for other ‘trouble kids’.”

Virgil took a deep breath and, with Janus’ words in his mind, began to explain his attempted conversion; the slip of tongue that led to the placement, the verbal abuse, food deprivation, electroshock therapy, the snuck antipsychotics, forced isolation, ending with the day the wife had called the police behind her husband’s back out of guilt and he was rescued. 

Roman was quiet for a long minute after he finished talking, staring entranced at the can in his hands. The ducks had dispersed during Virgil’s story, upset at the lack of food. 

“I…”

Virgil waited for him to get up and leave, to say with false apologies that he didn’t think they would work out, that the connection was wrong. Because who would want to deal with him, his stupid trauma? But the man next to him didn’t move except to breathe, and Virgil took that as an invitation to continue, his tone quieter.

“I was super out of it for a while. Honestly, I don’t remember the rescue, or like a solid month after that, except for snippets here and there. The drugs were fucky. And then my social worker, god bless her heart, found Janus and Logan. Janus was in CT too for a while when he was younger, so they took me in. Took a long time, but I opened up to them, but by then I was eighteen. They still insisted on adopting me, though, and there’s absolutely no convincing Logan once he’s made his mind up, so… they did.” He waved his hands around a little. 

“Three months,” Roman blurted out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch.

“What?”

“Were you in ther-... CT for three months?”

“Two and a bit, why?” The moment it was out of his mouth, he realized the implications, and his heart froze.

“You were gone for three months. I thought you died, or… I don’t even know.” Roman looked like he was about to cry, watching Virgil imploringly. Him going MIA must have affected his soulmate more than he’d thought. 

“Two months of CT, and then another one before I got a new phone. I’m…” All the guilt he’d felt at the time came rushing back, the reminder of his soulmate’s music dwindling to almost nothing and him being helpless, “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. That must have been…” 

“No, Virgil, you don’t get to apologize. That was not your fault.” He reached out a hand as if to grab Virgil’s and immediately pulled back, wringing his fingers instead. “Sorry, my choice of comforting is physical. But I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Virgil choked out, running his hands through his hair.

“Can you look at me?”

He did, taking a shuddering breath. He was moments away from a panic attack and he was not looking forward to that disaster. 

“You were being- quite literally- tortured for months. You were abused in ways that shouldn’t be legal, and you came out the other side stronger. Frankly, I’m amazed at your perseverance. You’re amazing.”

Simultaneously, Virgil felt a hot blush rise to his ears, and a sharp jolt run through his arms into his chest. He jerked violently, tipping over his own soda onto the grass. 

“Shit, did I say something wrong?” Roman gasped, reaching over to pluck up the can before it could spill more. It was already half empty, thank goodness. 

“No, I just… do that. Sometimes. From… CT. Kind of like ghost shocks, I guess.” Why couldn’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole, he wondered. He hadn’t done that jerk thing in front of anyone in so long. The last time had been in front of his now-parents, and they’d quickly grown used to it. He’d grown used to their own contact very soon and his twitches had stopped after he was accustomed to it, but it had never been directed towards him, and he had a feeling he’d need time to stop his impulse reactions. 

“And me calling you amazing…”

“Triggered them. It’s an exposure thing though, so I’ll just need to get used to it. Don’t blame yourself.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until bright white flashes of light burst into his vision. Suddenly, he was exhausted. 

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Roman asked, already packing up their picnic basket. Virgil nodded, his social meter drained, and all ability to be a civil person was quickly deteriorating. His therapist said that would also begin to heal after a while. 

Roman was an absolute angel though, letting the silence linger so Virgil could cradle his slowly growing headache, even opening the door of his car like a perfect gentleman. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Virgil rested his head against the seat and let a tiny smile tug at his lips. It would be a long process to retrain his brain (in theory, he was okay with being in a relationship with a man, but actually doing it? Infinitely harder), but for once, he was actually looking forward to the process. 

Would you guys like a collection of one shots surrounding Virgil’s gradual warming up to his new family, a decent mix of angst and fluff? I have some ideas. 

Thanks for reading! Now, a taglist. 

@sapphic-satan

@anxious-logic

@wigsnatchedhoteltrivago

@extraintrovertedalien

@punk-academian-witch

@ray-does-stuff

@chimneychimney

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@falsemood

@wtf-casper

@cpmansion

@killjoyjay

@fandomfan315

@anxious-darkwolf

@eternalmoonlight19

@winterwynd

@espepspes

@ironwoman359

@willowaudreykeyes

@mycatshuman

@weweregoddesses

@im-an-anxious-wreck

@imknittingahat

@surohsopsisofclouds

@korsaromantic66

@astraheart04

@quartz-z

@mikalya12

@koalas-in-coffee

@isabelle-stars

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

@existentialeggdogg

@pumpkinminette

@coffeeflavoredtears525600

@wyvern-tales

@heyhalloween

@grayson-22

@bullet-tothefeels

@mostlikelytokillyouwithaspoon

@lovelivingmydreams

@sarcasmremovedsoul

@crofterskinnie

@blissbiscuit

@baka-monarch

@lostspacecat

@green-call

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Accidents and artwork (Jongho/Smut)

Ateez Masterlist                                      Group Masterlist

A/N: So basically, I wrote this from an artists perspective. I wrote it with my experiences and processes I have seen so bare with me. 

Also the smut in this story is definitely not the main focus at all, it’s a whole story

Tags: Fem reader x Jongho, Highschool au!, Wrestler x art student, Teenagers being awkward, cute letter confessions, scatterbrained artist, stress relieving, pretty soft sex, pretty vanilla, just wholesome teen romance? virgin reader x Jongho, fingering, praise

Word count: 9520 words (longest thing I’ve ever written) 

Week 1

How Jongho ended up in the art room surrounded by paint covered canvases and confused students, he didn’t really know. He didn’t understand how such a big mistake could be made, wrestling and art class were very different things. However here he was at art class and not wrestling like he should have been. 

“Take a seat, Mr. Choi. You’re late.” The teacher said, snapping him out of his thoughts as he scanned the room. “Ah, I’m sorry. There was a mix up and I was in the office. I will only be here temporarily until a spot on the wrestling team opens up.” Jongho explained, the other students in the room scanning him up and down. 

Everyone had heard about the athlete prodigy that was transferring to your school, how a mix-up like this could happen was really baffling. But it happened and you were now sitting in the corner, watching him look at the empty seat next to you. 

“Temporary or not, you’re going to need a seat.” Your teacher said sharply. Mrs. Kim always was sharp of the tongue. You watched him bow politely and make his way to the stool next to yours. 

Jongho had only been at school a few days but had already gained immense popularity, being the new kid and the star athlete really helped. This popularity was intimidating to you, not ever really being one for wanting the spotlight per say. It took a certain type of person to enjoy the popularity, not that that was bad, no it was just different. You had respect for all types of people around your highschool, everyone was just trying to make their four years work... some more successfully than others. 

“Now as I was explaining, this duo project will be worth 75% of your semester grade. There is no theme, I just want to see harmony between two artists in the piece.” Mrs. Kim explained. That was something you admired about her teaching method. There was never a box to be put in, she allowed artists to be artists and it was refreshing. 

One by one you and Jongho watched your classmates find partners, silently. “Ma’am, I won’t be in this class long. I wouldn’t want to not be able to finish a project and leave a student hanging.” Jongho explained, voice incredibly sincere. He would hate to think that someone would fail because of him. “That will just have to be something you figure out with your partner. Is Y/N your partner?” Your name coming out of her mouth caught you off guard and you looked up. 

Jongho looked at you and looked at him, before looking back to your teacher and back to eachother again. An awkward silence was definitely lingering in the air as he tried to find the words once he noticed you didn’t have a partner. “Only if she wants to be... I would hate to be a burden.” His voice was soft as he looked at you, anxiously awaiting your response. 

“It seem Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a partner so she doesn’t quite have a choice. You two will work together, it’s settled.” There goes that sharp tongue again, you cursed mentally. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to work with Jongho, not at all. He seemed like a sweet guy but you already felt like you were at a disadvantage before hand. Your art seemed to be lacking as of late and you were questioning what direction you were going in, it was an internal struggle that left a negative mark on your art. Now you had the possibility of having to help someone alot and not to be rude, it was a disadvantage. 

“Everyone start planning your projects, quietly though. No need to give me a headache before noon.” Jongho pulled his stool closer to you and smiled slightly. He knew you probably didn’t want him as a partner and he could understand why, Jongho knew he had 0 drawing/painting experience. 

“I’m sorry.” Jongho said, making you look up at him. There was an apologetic look on his face and you could tell he felt bad. But he had no reason too, this wasn’t his fault. You could work through it, like you mentioned before: everyone was just trying to make their four years work. 

“It’s really okay. Let’s just work together and make something cool. We’ll manage.” You comforted him in the best way you could, because you were nervous yourself. If he was already apologizing before even really doing anything, how was this project going to turn out?

“Uhm, do you have any art experience or anything similar?” You asked, hoping that he might have a grain of visual artistic talent. “I’m sorry, no. I know that isn’t what you want to hear.” He looked down, cursing the fact  that he never felt the urge to draw when he was a kid. “It’ll be okay, I’ll figure something out.” You replied, more reassuring yourself than him. “Thanks.” He said softly, feeling comforted by your words. “I was reassuring myself.” You justified with a laugh and he chuckled with you. “Fair enough.” 

Jongho walked through the cafeteria with his bag, finding his friends pretty easily. They were a rowdy bunch after all. 

“There he is. How was art class?” San asked and clapped the younger boy on the back as he sat down. “I still can’t believe that they messed up your schedule like that.” Seonghwa said and Jongho shrugged. “It could be worse. At least I have a cute partner.” Jongho said without thinking about it.

Yeah, he thought you were cute. He also thought there was a worse way to have to spend art class. 

“Cute partner? I don’t think I know anyone in the art class.” Wooyoung commented, popping a grape into his mouth. “Her name’s Y/N and she’s kind of stuck with me as a partner for something that takes up a huge chunk of her grade. I feel bad.” Jongho said and perked up once he noticed you had entered the cafeteria. You had a quiet nature, avoiding bumping into people as you walked to an empty seat. You looked clumsy and cute, it made Jongho smile. “I’m assuming that’s her.” Hongjoong said, taking note of the way Jongho had gone quiet. 

You had been racking your brain ever since class had ended. No offense to Jongho but you were stuck with him and it was making you anxious. You wanted to deliver something you could be proud of and you really had to think hard about it. 

Jongho was a physical person, he liked physical activity and you could work with that. Slowly an idea started forming. 

“Jongho!” You called as you saw him in the hall by his locker. You walked over to him, seeing his group of friends all close to him. “Hey, what’s up?” Jongho asked, swallowing before speaking. “I had an idea for the project, something that I think would work for the both of us.” You explained, eyes locking with his for a moment only for you to look away again. “Well, you’re the boss. When do you need me?” Jongho asked, his words flustering you slightly. 

“Uhm we can get started this weekend if you’re free, at my place? I have a canvas that’s ready to go and paint.” You said with a soft smile, hoping the blush on your cheeks would die down a bit. Jongho was undeniably attractive and you weren’t used the attention. 

“That works, I can come by on Saturday if you text me your adress.” Jongho said, trying really hard to ignore Wooyoung and San’s whispering next to him. You heard the whispers too, feeling uncomfortable as you felt they were about you and you looked to the floor. Jongho subtly jammed his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach while pretending to adjust his shirt and they shut up. 

“Perfect...” You started to walk away, awkwardness taking over before realising you forgot to say something. “Wait, I forgot to mention. Bring some clothes you don’t mind getting paint on, it could get messy.” You said, catching Jongho off guard before walking away again. How could you be so awkward out of nowhere? 

You had managed to set the whole thing up... or at least step 1 of your project. It was easy, it was fun and it was creative. This project was going to help you let go a little and through out your week you were starting to see the positive side to this whole thing. You followed rules when it came to art and art didn’t have rules, you wanted to have fun with this. 

“Did you find it okay?” You asked, leading him into your house. Jongho couldn’t help but be taken back by your appearance at first. Your shorts and huge what used to be white t-shirt, now covered in a rainbow of paint splatters. Your hair was messy not having bothered doing anything to it because it would get messed up anyways, but Jongho thought it was cute. 

“I know I look like a crazy person but this is what I wear to paint so disregard that.” You added on, your sock covered feet padding over the wooden floor of your house. “It’s fine, it somehow suits you. You look comfortable.” Jongho commented, following you through the house. 

“Uhm, what are we doing for the project. You never really told me.” Jongho said stopping in your living room and you turned around and looked at him. “Oh my God, you’re right.” You said covering your mouth and starting to laugh at your own stupidity. Jongho must’ve thought you were in an idiot. 

“You must think I’m crazy. I get really scatterbrained when I start a project, I’m so sorry.” You explained and Jongho just watched you, grinning softly. He could tell your mind was going a mind a minute and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to be an artist. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his old jeans and just took you in. He didn’t think he was going to enjoy this experience that much at first, but that was slowly changing. 

“So basically, I thought you don’t have painting or drawing experience so what can we do. Then I had another thought, you like being physically active and you’re probably good at throwing things too.” Jongho was starting to get concerned at your words, the concern being very visible on his face. “Throwing things?” He thought to himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good idea. I think... I was just thinking we should have a good time either launching waterballoons filled with paint at a canvas or we could tape the paint filled balloons to a canvas and throw darts at them. That’s up to you though.” Jongho’s concern quickly went away as he heard the rest of your idea. It sounded so fun and it was definitely something he could do. “I do believe you are a genius ma’am.” Jongho said and bowed jokingly. 

“Really?” You asked, your voice sounding so hopefull. You let out a breath of relief as your concerns were wiped away. Something about Jongho was so incredibly refreshing and different from what you had expected. It was nice. 

“I think launching the balloons at the canvas is the safest bet. Darts seem, dangerous.” He said as you walked into your yard together. You hummed in agreement, knowing he was probably right and knowing your aim. The last thing you wanted was Jongho going to the emergency room because you can’t throw. 

“That seems fair, don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You said and gestured towards the canvas. You had filled the balloons beforehand and placed them in a bucket. Your mother was going to be upset at the fact that her grass would be splattered with paint, but you knew this would be forgotten if you told her it was for school. 

“How did you come up with this?” Jongho asked as he picked up the bucket from next to the canvas and brought it a safe distance away. “ I don’t really know. I guess I was kind of forced to think outside of the box a little. I kinda have to  thank you for that.” You confessed and gestured for him to have the first throw. “What do you mean?” He asked and launched a waterballoon at the canvas. It splattered bright orange against the crisp white and you couldn’t help but smile widely. 

Jongho felt really good watching the color splatter over the canvas. It felt so good to do something like this. 

“I mean, my art was starting to feel stiff. Repetitive. This was something I needed.” You explained and threw your own balloon, missing drastically and launching the blue paint over the grass. You covered your mouth in embarrassment and to hold back your laughter. Jongho tried to hold back a laugh but failed miserably and handed you another balloon. “The canvas is over there.” He joked and you hung your shoulders in feigned shame. “I’m not good at sports.” You confessed, throwing another balloon and barely clipping the canvas. Though hard enough to cause red splatter near the orange. 

How your mannerism’s could be so endearing, he had no clue. You weren’t the type of girl Jongho normally gravitated too, but then again he was never really thrown into a situation like this before. He found himself enjoying this whole situation, immensly. 

“So you’re friends with San and Wooyoung right?” You asked as the canvas gradually filled with more and more colors and splatters. Turning to Jongho, you noticed how the light was capturing him and his beautiful skin tone and for a moment you swore your heart started pounding faster. Tearing your eyes away, you fiddled with the hem of your paint stained shirt. 

“Yeah, I am. Why?” He asked, noting the fact you were avoiding eye contact. “No reason really, they really are mood makers in class.” You complimented. Friendship was something you missed, you always found yourself too scatterbrained and busy to maintain them. Sure you had people you were friendly with at school, but not really someone you could call your friend. 

“Yeah that’s true. Wooyoung can be so loud sometimes though.” Jongho chuckled to himself as he threw a balloon really hard against the canvas, nearly knocking it over. “Who do you hangout with?” Jongho asked and ran to the canvas, adjusting it back to it’s original position. You were hesitant to answer his question, you didn’t want him to pity you. 

“No one really.” You admitted, your voice sounding oddly cheery. He looked at you confused at how you could sound so okay with that. “Really?” “Really.” You responded and sat down in the grass, your arms feeling tired from throwing and wanting a break. Jongho joined you, deciding he deserved a break as well. 

“I’m bad at maintaining friends.” You said with a small laugh at your own self pity. “Ahh.” was the only sound to be heard from him. You both sat quietly for a moment and you leaned back to look at your project. “It looks really good. I think phase 1 is complete.” You nodded in approval and Jongho smiled widely, his nose crinkling in the cutest way. 

“This was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.” Jongho admitted, not remember the last time he felt joy in a project that wasn’t sport related. “We should let this dry... do you want to watch a movie or something?” Your proposal caught Jongho off guard and yourself. You weren’t expecting those words to come out so smoothly, or to come out at all. It was all incredibly impulsive. 

“I actually want to ask you something.” Jongho started and you looked at him with mildly scared eyes. “I was actually wondering if you would show me some of your art and maybe teach my how to do some stuff. I liked this alot more than I thought I would. It would be cool to know how to draw or be even a little helpfull to you in this project.” You were completely surprised, not sure how to respond. This was cool, this was amazing. It put such a big smile on your face you couldn’t help but cover it with your hand. 

“I would absolutely love to teach you! Come on let’s go to my room. I have my art stuff up there.” He was surprised by your enthousiasm but it also warmed his heart. You were just so bubbly when it came to art, it was your happy space. 

“I’m going to take a guess that this one is your room.” Jongho said and stood infront of your door. It was painted on a sweet little mural and made his smile grow even larger. “Lucky guess.” You said and looked away. You got bashfull for a moment, no one had really been up to your before, let alone a guy. 

“This is so cool. It looks so amazing.” He ran his fingers over the painting. It was amazing to him that he could feel the brush strokes. “Thank you.” Your voice was small suddenly and Jongho looked back at you. “Like really amazing.” He never considering that art had texture, that was really cool.

 Letting him in your room, you gestured for him to sit at your desk and grabbed a sketchbook and some pencils. “What do you want to learn?”  You sat down next to him after placing the sketchbook in front of him. “I don’t know. What do you want to teach me?” Jongho asked leaning towards you with a cheeky smile. His actions flustered you and you looked away for a moment, making him giggle. 

“You’re cute.” He stated, flipping your sketchbook open and slowly turning through the pages. How he could just say something like that? “Maybe teach me how to draw you.” He added on as he looked at the paper, trying to hide his giggly response to your reaction. 

“How about I just teach you with what I started with? How faces work, if that’s okay.” You evaded and brushed your hair out of your face. You taught Jongho the lines on faces basic lines to follow and just let him draw to get an idea of what he could do. This was just for fun afterall, you didn’t do it completely seriously and neither did he. Jongho just wanted to spend more time with you and thought this was fun. 

A silence crept over you both as he drew and you watched. You admired the pencil strokes and soft sound of the pencil on the paper, you also admired his hands. He had such nice, beautiful, tan skin and very nice hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how such nice hands would feel holding yours. 

“Jongho...” You started, still just looking at his drawing and hands. He turned his head to you but you avoided eye contact, just looking at the paper. “Hmm?” “Can we be friends?” Your question caught him very off guard, it just wasn’t what he was expecting. “I mean, I kind of thought we already were.” 

Week 2

Jongho had been thinking nonstop of his Saturday with you and he couldn’t help but think about how fun it would be to work on “Phase 2″ of the painting. This joy dragged on through the week, before he even really shared a class with you. He found himself doodling in his notebooks and even though they weren’t necessarily good in his opinion, it made him happy. 

“So how was painting? I forgot to ask earlier.” Hongjoong asked as he greeted Jongho one morning. It was still early before class and students were slowly pouring in as the group of boys stood in front of the school. Jongho instantly smiled at the question, lovely thoughts filling his mind at the mere mention. 

“It was a lot of fun. I kinda know how to draw now. Watch out I might become the next greatest artist.” Jongho joked and tucked his hands into his pocket. “Ah so you had because of art, not a certain partner?” San questioned, eyebrow cocking in Jongho’s direction. However someone caught Jongho’s eye, you. 

“Y/N!” He called softly, waving at you. You were caught by surprised but waved back, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. That was when Jongho gestured for you to come over and your heart dropped a little. You had never really talked to his group of friends, ever. You were convinced they didn’t know you existed. 

However you did it, you walked over there. Over the weekend you had made some decisions, some life decisions. One of them was inform your parents over the paint throwing in the yard BEFORE you did it and the other was go outside of your comfort zone more. Not only with your art, but also with your life. Making more friends was a little step in the right direction. 

“Goodmorning.” You greeted in a singsong voice, making Jongho’s ears turn pink slightly. “Goodmorning.” He greeted back and saw how your arms folded over your chest, noticing some dried green paint by your elbow. “I’m Wooyoung. Do we have classes together?” Wooyoung asked and his question stung a little, you had a lot of classes with him and he just never noticed you. 

“I know, we have quite a few classes together actually.” You laughed, brushing it off because you knew he meant no harm. This made Jongho frown, how could Wooyoung not know that? 

“Have you been painting?” Jongho asked, changing the subject. “Oh, yeah I have been. Why?” You asked, being confused at his sudden question. “You have some green paint on your arm.” He smiled and reached out rubbing the paint mark gently with his fingers. His touch made your cheeks burn bright red, especially as you had an audience. You simply looked down at the ground as he took care of it. “There, I think I got it all.” He stepped back, eyes trained on your burning red face. You had never felt so relieved to hear a school bell. 

He didn’t mean to fluster you like that, though he had to admit he thought it was ridiculously cute and you had never been flustered by a guy like that before. You liked it, you liked Jongho and it happened really fast.

Mrs. Kim noticed the chemistry that week, the chemistry between you and Jongho as you sketched out ideas and guided him when he drew. This was what she had hoped for, this was what she wanted. It was nice to see you smiling in class and it was nice to see someone who was thrown into an unlikely situation, run with it and make the best out of it. 

“Okay but why are the eyes all the way up there?” You asked with a small laugh, your face by Jongho’s shoulder. “Look not everyone’s anatomy is the same.” He clarified, trying to hold back his laugh. You shook your head and grabbed your own pencil, doodling a little cartoon nose under horribly realistic eyes and making the whole drawing even funnier. “I guess you’re right about anatomy.” You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder for a split second. You didn’t know what came over you it was something you did unconsciously, you were comfortable.

Jongho felt his heart pound in his chest at your small action but didn’t respond, not wanting to make things weird. However he did notice something, something sweet. When you moved your head his nose filled with the scent of flowers and sweet hardcandy and he loved it. “Do you have time this weekend to work on the painting? If not it’s fine, but - nevermind.” You were going to say, you really enjoyed spending time with him but held it back. Jongho frowned, he couldn’t that weekend. He had to cover someone’s shift at the convenience store he worked at. 

“I can’t this weekend, but next week I definitely can. I’m all yours.” He explained and your smile fell. “That’s too bad. The last time was fun. Like, really fun.” You said and turned away to your sketchbook. Jongho would’ve rather been with you than at the store, but work was something he couldn’t have just missed. With a sad smile, Jongho put his arm over the back of your chair to get your attention. 

Your cheeks were pink when you looked at him and your lips were pouting slightly, he was suddenly completely willing to skip work. “You’re cute when you pout.” His words came out before he could catch them and watched as your cheeks turned even redder. Where did these things come from? 

Week 3

The keychain was tucked carefully in Jongho’s hand as he waited for you in front of the school with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. He had seen the keychain on his way back home from work that Saturday. It was a small, stuffed, multicolored patchwork teddy bear on a rose gold keychain. When he saw it he thought of you and came to the conclusion, this was the way he was going to ask you out and break the sad news to you at the same time. 

“Let me read the note again.” Seonghwa asked Jongho and the younger boy shook his head. “No, she should be here soon.” He was on firm lookout for your figure approaching the school. 

Hongjoong tapped Seonghwa on the chest and whispered to him. “He seems to be nervous.” The statement was blatantly obvious and Seonghwa had to do everything in his power to not roll his eyes. “There she is.” He pointed out and Jongho quickly rolled the note up and slipped it inbetween one of the small loops on the keychain. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Hongjoong said and waved at you. You walked over with a soft smile and greeted the 3, looking at Jongho a little longer. He looked uncomfortable and fidgeted with his hands under your gaze. 

“So, how was your weekend?” Seonghwa asked, trying to distract you as Jongho moved by your backpack. “Pretty standard. Nothing really interesting.” You admitted and thought back to how boring it actually was. “How was it for you guys?” You asked and felt a little tug on your backpack from behind, turning your head you saw with his hand on your bag. “Sorry, you had a bug on your back. I think I flicked it off harder than I meant too.” He lied straight through his teeth, but  the keychain was on your bag. “Oh, thanks.” You said, shaking your head slightly at how odd he was acting.

 You looked at your watch, noting the fact that you still had to go talk to Mrs. Kim about a personal project. “I have to go talk to Mrs. Kim about something, but I will see you guys later.” You said and waved to them before starting to walk away. “Hey Y/N.” Jongho said after you, making you turn to look at him. He had a soft smile on his face and his ears were pink. “You look pretty today.” He said loud enough for not only Hongjoong and Seonghwa to hear, but the other students entering the school. 

You covered your mouth to hide your smile and quickly turned away to go to Mrs. Kim. Jongho giggled at your response only to garner funny looks from his older friends. “You are completely whipped.” Hongjoong said, still in shock at what he had just witnessed. “So what if I am? She’s cute when she’s flustered. Besides she might not like me much once she finds out I’m not in the art class anymore.” Jongho grabbed his bag off of the ground. “I doubt that, she likes you too. It’s blatantly obvious.” Seonghwa shrugged and headed inside of the school. “It is?” Jongho asked himself, wondering how he didn’t pick up the signs. 

“Y/N, good morning!” Mrs. Kim greeted as you entered her classroom. “Goodmorning.” You said in return and took a seat by her desk, laying your backpack in your lap. 

“So things with your semester project have been going well?” She asked, looking at you with a smile. “Yeah they’ve been going really well...” Your voice trailed off once you noticed the colorfull trinket on your bag. “Sorry what was that?” Your head snapped up at her question and you tried ignoring the keychain. “Sorry, it’ been going great. Jongho is really fun to work with. I think he’s teaching me more than I’m teaching him.” You said, fingers now fiddling with the little teddy bear. 

“I’ve noticed your not being so strict on yourself with drawing. It’s refreshing to see. It’s also refreshing to see you smiling in class.” Your fingers glided over the patchwork fabric, before moving to the chain where you noticed a rolled up piece of paper. “I have been happy.” You admitted, not being to contain your little smile. “Jongho does you good. Let’s pray he’ll be there to finish the project with you.” Mrs. Kim said, realising you were distracted in obviously happy thoughts. “Go to your first class, Ms. Y/N and get your head out of the clouds... in a few minutes.” She dismissed you and you smiled even wider. 

You left her classroom and leaned against the wall in the hall. Unrolling the note that was now clutched in your hand, you read it to yourself. 

“Hey Y/N, 

  I know this is kind of weird. But I guess that’s kind of fitting to our friendship, weird and something we both didn’t expect. Anyways, I saw this Saturday on my way home from work and it put a smile on my face. Naturally, the fact that it made me smile made me think of you. So please take this as a little gift, as a thank you for taking me under your colorful wing and making me smile.

This is also a sorry, the wrestling coach called me a few days ago and told me a position opened up on the team. So I won’t be in art class anymore. But I promise I will help you finish our project because, well I’m enjoying myself a lot and I want to spend more time with you.

That leads me to my next reason for this little gift. I was wondering if after this project, you would like to spend even more time with me? Maybe let me take you out on a date? If not, I would like to be friends, just let me know.

Also this bear’s name is Sunshine, take care of him well.

- Jongho” 

You had to cover your mouth and remind yourself that you were in school and not home in your room. Jongho liked you too, Jongho liked spending time with you and it felt surreal. You hadn’t had a crush in a long time, let alone one that liked you in return. 

Tucking the note in your pocket, you looked at the little teddy bear. “I’ll take care of you, Sunshine.” You said softly before scrambling for your class, noticing you were going to be late.

“You look happy.” Wooyoung commented as you past him to get to your seat. “I do?” You asked, not even attempting to hide your smile. “Yeah, you have that energy that says you got asked out.” Wooyoung was cheeky, you knew that but you didn’t know how much your demeanor could change from a simple confession. Yet here you were. 

“How did you know that?” You asked him and he Wooyoung started laughing. “You both are blind. He was so nervous this whole week about asking you out and felt horrible about not being able to work on the painting this weekend. Jongho never shuts up about you.” He shrugged and casually unpacked his things from his bag. “He really likes you.” Wooyoung added on and you quickly made your way to your seat as you noticed your teacher had arrived. But class was far from your mind. 

Jongho’s figure was recognizable from behind as you saw him walking in the hall. Broad shoulders, muscular figure and very soft looking hair, he was hard to miss. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward trying to catch up with him to tap him on the shoulder. This wasn’t something you yelled out through the crowd. 

He turned around, instantly greeting you with a giant smile and his nose crinkling in the cutest way. “I found your note and your little gift.” You smiled just thinking about his sweet letter. Jongho’s cheeks turned bright red as he felt incredibly nervous to your response. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in person. I have a hard time talking about my feelings sometimes. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.” His apology caught you off guard, could he really not see that you liked him too?

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him to the side and a bit away from other people wandering in the halls. “I would love to go on a date with you Jongho.” You blatantly stated, your hand still holding his. “Really?” His eyes went wide with disbelief, you liked him. Your fingers laced with his now and you started laughing. “I feel like we’re both horribly oblivious. Yes, really.” You were both quiet for a moment, thinking about how nice the other’s hand felt. 

“So, we’re gonna try and finish this weekend? I want to take you out on that date.” He quickly said, making you laugh. Jongho didn’t realise how eager he sounded until it came out, but he didn’t care. You didn’t say anything and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. 

Jongho reciprocated the action, arms wrapping around your waist gently as he hugged you in return. His face tucked into your neck and he took a deep breath. You smelled nice, like flowers and sweet hardcandies and as if Jongho needed anymore convincing that he liked you.

The weekend rolled around fast enough, yet you found yourself in a slump. The ideas you had regarding the project seemed less and less appealing as the days went by and surely enough you hated your idea. You were so inspiration blocked that you had reverted to spending your Saturday morning sitting infront of the paint splattered canvas, hoping to get an idea. 

“Y/N, you’re partner is here. I’m going to go to run some errands and then go out to dinner with friends. Have fun!” Your mother said from your bedroom door and you turned your head to her. “Alright mom, thanks.” You said and watched Jongho awkwardly enter your bedroom. 

“Hey.” He said softly, taking note of the fact that you weren’t in your paint clothes but dressed quite cute. Short denim overalls and an oversized striped shirt underneath, very simple and cute but completely fitting to you. But you didn’t look that happy, as a matter of fact you looked distraught. 

“What’s wrong?” Jongho asked and sat down on your bed. “I have no idea how to finish this. I had one, but now I hate it. I don’t know how to continue.” You explained, pulling your knees to your chest and looking at Jongho. He had a concerned expression, nose crinkling as his eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm.” He hummed and turned around to look at the paint splatters. 

“Scoot over.” He said, kicking his shoes off and sitting down next to you at the top of your bed, back leaning against the headboard. The side of his body pressed into your comfortably as he settled down to stare at the painting. “How long have you been doing this?” He asked, glancing towards you and taking note of how incredibly close your faces were. 

“Too long.” You mumbled, resting your head on your knees. “Entirely too long.” Your voice was soft as you continued to look straight ahead. Art block was the worst feeling. 

“Distract me a little. How was your first wrestling practice?” You asked, genuinely interested in the topic. You craned your head to look at him, also taking note of how close your faces were. “It was really nice to be back in a familiar space again.” He started and you watched him speak. He looked happy talking about his passion and the made you feel mushy on the inside. Was this how he felt when you talked about art? 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his happy expression, he was ridiculously cute and he didn’t even know it. “What was that for?” Jongho asked, leaning into you a little more with a soft smirk. “Happy is cute on you. Can I come to a match of yours?” You asked, burrying your face into your arms a little more. The question was surprising but Jongho loved it, you were slowly taking initiative. “I would love for you to come to a match of mine.” His voice was hushed suddenly, not feeling the need to speak loud. Even though it was just the two of you home, he wanted this moment to be private. 

You both simply looked at eachother for a moment, the project at hand being far away from your thoughts. Jongho’s hand moved to yours and you let him take it. His thumb drawing shapes over your soft skin. 

“Can I kiss you?” His question caught you completely off guard, but not in a negative way at all. He realised the question was kind of out of the blue, but your naturally pink tinted cheeks, pouty lips and soft expression were too much for him. He really wondered if your lips tasted like the way you smelled, like sweet candy. 

You nodded and lifted your head from your arms, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand gently moved up your arm. You leaned further into him and smiled as his hand finally reached your cheek, cupping it gently. He was watching you and admired the way your eyes fluttered shut, the soft smile playing on your lips and the deeper pink tint on your cheeks. 

He finally leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, fingers moving under your chin. His lips were pillowy, soft and incredibly gentle against yours, not wanting to hurt you in any way or form. To him, you tasted exactly like he thought you would. Sweet like candy and he absolutely loved it. 

You didn’t realise it until you pulled away, but your hand was on his chest gripping his t-shirt. “Sorry.” You mumbled, letting go only for his hand to catch yours and keep it there on his chest. “It’s okay.” His voice came out as whisper as he locked eyes with you. You gripped his shirt again, now using it as leverage to pull his lips against yours again. This time catching Jongho slightly by surprise. 

This kiss was different, the soft, careful demeanor being a lot less present as he pulled you into him. His hands were on your waist and you moved to sit on your knees, lips not seperating once. As his lips moved against yours, you hummed as he squeezed your waist gently before threading your fingers through his silky hair. 

“You taste sweet.” He mumbled against your lips and wrapped his arms around you fully. Jongho laid down, making sure to pull you with him and allowing you to rest on his chest. He looked at your flushed cheeks and smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “God you’re so cute.” He commented, revelling in the feeling of your fingers in his hair. 

You tugged slightly and watched his eyes close, long eyelashes catching your attention. Jongho was pretty enough to draw. What you weren’t expecting however, was the low groan the emitted from his throat. 

You kissed him again with a total new feeling to it. The way he looked, the way he sounded, it was too much. Jongho could feel it too, the way your breathing had sped up, the way your chest pressed against his, it was all just completely natural for him to get worked up. 

As his tongue glided over your bottom lip, gaining more access to your mouth, his hands grabbed your waist and moved you where he wanted you. Straddling his waist now, you could completely feel the effect you had on him and a wave of nerves hit you. “Jongho...” You started, sitting up slightly and only placing your clothed core over his. A moan came out before you could finish what you were saying and the heat on your cheeks flooded back. 

“I’ve never done this before.” You finished, your hands on his chest as he looked up at you. “That’s okay, we don’t have to.” He said quickly, not wanting to make you uncomfortable at all. He wouldn’t want you to do anything you would regret. “That’s not what I meant, I just wanted you to know. I want to do this, if you do.” You said, smiling softly at his gentle words and hands coming to find yours. Your finger’s laced together and you looked at how well they fit.

“I do. I really do.” He said, sitting up so that his face was inches from yours again. His movements made his hips buck into yours, shooting relief through your body and making you squeeze his hands. Jongho was loving your little reactions to minor movements. 

His lips attached to your jaw, lacing light kisses over the skin and keeping his eyes on you. Your eyes were closed and you were loving the feeling of his lips on your skin. His finger tips danced over the skin of your arms before holding the back of your neck tightly. Lips moving down over your neck, you let out a gasp as he nipped at your skin. “You sound so pretty.” Jongho praised and his words went straight to your core. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me.”  He said between kisses on the base on your neck. “Please don’t.” Your words came out as a whine even at the thought. He felt so good. 

You toyed with the hem of his t-shirt, hoping he’d take the hint that he would take it off. “You’re eager.” Jongho commented and pulled his lips off of your skin. You thought your eagerness had killed the mood and were about to apologize, when he swiftly pulled his shirt off over his head. 

His skin looked soft like satin and you found your fingers wandering over the newly exposed skin before moving to the clips of your overalls. You took a deep breath and undid them swiftly, tugging your shirt off and discarding it with his. This amount of exposure was new to you and you felt incredibly shy, the simple white lace of your bra not seeming nice enough for the occasion. You looked down, breaking eye contact with him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His comment made your heart flutter and you looked up again. “So beautiful.” He repeated and you took the plunge, pressing your lips to his harshly and pushing him back. Jongho found that he quite enjoyed the weight of your body on his and that he really enjoyed the feeling of your chest against his, no he loved the feeling. “So soft.” He complimented again as his fingers ran over the skin of your back. 

“Stop complimenting me.” You giggled and let out a yelp as he flipped you both over. His hard on was now directly pressing against your core, harshly and your hair was splayed over your pillow. “Why should I stop?” Jongho asked and kissed over your collarbones, his tongue peaking out to lick at your skin. Moving down further, his mouth was at the edge of your bra and his hands moved to undo it. “I mean every word, you know.” He said and watched you slide the item of clothing off of your arms. 

“Why are you being so sweet?” You asked as your arms covered your now bare chest in slight embarrassment. Your question was very surprising to Jongho, he didn’t have a reason not to be. He felt incredibly lucky to be in the position he was in and he was going to let you know that, you deserved that. 

“Because I feel lucky. You’re trusting me, you’re letting me do this with you.” He explained, odd kisses being placed around your lips. “I feel lucky too, lucky I’m doing this with you.” You admitted and your arms moved away from your chest, feeling even more comfortable with him. 

Jongho allowed his hands to move to your chest, squeezing your breast slightly as he nipped at your skin. The kisses became more intense as you felt him suck on your skin, he wanted to leave marks. You hummed when his tongue moved over your nipple, licking the nub before wrapping his lips around it. Moaning, your nails moved over his shoulders and he hummed, vibrations somehow moving through your whole body. 

His lips lazily moved over your skin to reach your other nipple, to give it the same attention as his hands moved down your torso. He pushed your overalls down and you helped him pull them off, but not wanting his mouth off of your skin. Your breathing picked up as his hand rubbed over your clothed slit and he bit down on your nipple slightly. All of this was just so stimulating, you couldn’t help but already feel something starting to bubble up in your stomach. 

“Jongho~” You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders again. He was loving the fact that he could draw these reactions from you. He pulled your underwear to the side, making you gasp as his index finger ran over your bare slit and gathered your arousal. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” He said again as he knew things were getting more intense. Jongho looked at you as you bit your bottom lip, him pushing his finger into you slowly. You mewled and shut your eyes, accepting the new feeling and loving it. His finger curled and he repeated his actions. You were so tight around him, making his mind wander to how you’d feel wrapped around him. 

His finger’s picked up with pace, curling his finger every now and then before adding another. It was a bit of a stretch but nothing uncomfortable, the opposite actually. You were a moaning mess, the coil in your stomach tightening rapidly with each thrust of his fingers. 

Your hand shot up, covering your mouth as a particularly loud moan left you, your other hand grabbing his hair. Jongho could tell you were incredibly close to cumming, walls tightening around his fingers and he watched your face. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were shut, but your hand was still covering your mouth.

“Let me hear you.” Jongho pleaded, lips moving by your ear as his pace picked up even more. “Cum for me, please.” He mumbled, kissing the skin softly as you tried shutting your legs instinctively. His hand prevented that and you pulled his lips onto yours as you released, back arching of the mattress. He kept pumping his fingers through your orgasm as you kissed him deeply and moaned against his lips. 

You whined, moving to push his hand away because the feeling was too much. “Too much.” You whimpered and Jongho pulled his hand away. “You did so good.” He mumbled into the skin of your neck only for it to be cut off with a moan. Your hand had found his bulge and you palmed it gently. It wasn’t fair that you were getting all the attention. Jongho burried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling your hand grip him through his jeans. 

A wave of nerves overtook you as you felt how big he was, but you weren’t backing down now. You wanted him. 

You undid his jean and he helped you pull them down, laughing slightly at the awkward movements. But it didn’t kill the mood at all, as a matter of fact the small giggles put you more at ease. As he stripped himself of his jeans and boxers, you pulled your own underwear off and threw it to the ground. 

Jongho sat on his knees inbetween your legs, cock standing against his lower stomach. He looked thick and you couldn’t help but feel the heat pool between your legs again. Before you did anything else you reached towards your nightstand and pulled open the drawer. You had a small box of condoms stored there for a rainy day and today it was pouring. 

He watched you, running his hands over your thighs as you went to pull a condom out. Something about the action was so innocent, especially when you handed it to him with wide eyes. Smiling, he grabbed and leaned forward to kiss your lips lightly. You watched him tear open the foil packet and roll it on, the action being very intriguing to watch. 

“You’re still okay with this right?” Jongho asked as one of his hands found your hip. “I am. I promise.” You said softly and found that for some reason you weren’t nervous anymore. You felt so cared for and comfortable, you didn’t have a reason too. 

Using his hand, he raised your hips and guided himself towards your slit. Running the tip over your slit and gathering some of your wetness before pressing into you. Jongho made sure to lean forward and hold you close as he looked for any signs of discomfort or pain. But it didn’t hurt, the stretch was a little uncomfortable but there wasn’t any pain. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

“You okay?” He asked, kissing your lips gently before bottoming out completely. You let out a small gasp at the full feeling and your walls clenched in response. He felt so good. You nodded and looked up into his eyes, allowing your body to adjust to him. “Please move.” You whined slightly, any discomfort you had being completely gone and now just being very needy. You bucked your hips making Jongho chuckle before drawing his own hips back.

He started off slow, his hands moving down to hold your thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. Hips drawing out and in gently. The way your body was angled made him hit all the right spots and making the feeling even more intense than it was with his fingers. “Jongho, you feel so good.” You choked out as your fingers toyed with the hairs on the back of his neck. 

“No baby, you feel good. You look so good for me.” He commented into your neck before looking at your expression. Your cheeks were the pinkest he had ever seen and you’re lips were swollen, eyes hooded as you looked up at him with a moan leaving you as you did. 

“So beautiful.” He remarked, saying it more to himself than anyone else. His hips picked up the pace, causing your nails to dig into his shoulders and a small cry came from your mouth. You were so close again and Jongho could feel it. Your walls squeezed him tighter and tighter with each move of his hips and he couldn’t help but let out a groan at the feeling. His hand moved inbetween your legs and gently rubbed your clit, feeling that he was on the edge of cumming as well. 

“Come on, beautiful. Cum for me.” He mumbled, moaning through his own sentence as his hips stuttered and stilled completely. Your own orgasm following not far behind, making your legs tighten around his waist. A small cry left your mouth as you felt your legs shake slightly and Jongho rubbed them soothingly as he came down from his own high. 

He allowed himself to rest on top of you with a small laugh and you pet his hair, breathing heavily yourself. “Thank you for being so sweet to me.” You whispered softly, barely being audible. Jongho lifted his head to look at you, smiling before getting off of you and laying next to you. “Thank you for being you. It makes being sweet easy.” You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment and he started laughing. “We just had sex but that embarrasses you? You’re a beautiful surprise everytime I’m with you.” Jongho chuckled and turned over onto his side to look at you. His fingers started tracing over the bare skin of your stomach and he just admired you. 

Jongho felt like he was head over heels for you and he had never felt that way for anyone before. 

You were watching his expression, taking note of how happy and giggly he was. His eyes were sparkling and that was something you never really noticed before. That was when an idea came to you. 

“Oh.” You said, sitting up suddenly and catching him off guard. “Oh? What’s wrong?” Jongho asked and followed your body as you quickly pulled on clothes. “Nothing’s wrong, I have an idea for the project.” You smiled at him and he shook his head in disbelief. Your mind was fascinating to him. 

You tugged on your painting shirt and placed yourself on the floor infront of the paint splattered canvas. In all honesty, you were done looking at the thing but you had to take inspiration when it came, even if it was an odd time.

Jongho moved to put his jeans back on, not feeling the need for his shirt just yet as he sat behind you on the ground. He pressed his chest to your back and watched you grab a white chalk pencil. “Why a white pencil?” He asked, genuinely curious as to what you were doing. “Because white shows up better on the colors of background than a regular pencil would.” You explained and leaned back into his bare chest. 

“Oh.” His voice was soft as he spoke by your ear, sending goosebumps over your body. You giggled slightly and just started sketching, glancing back at him to get a general idea of his eyes and their shape. “What’s your idea beautiful?” He asked and you smiled. “I’m going to paint you. Well, just your eyes. Because I can and you opened my eyes to trying new things.” You explained and started mapping out his features. Jongho fell quiet at your explanation pressed his lips to your shoulder, just feeling greatfull.

Week 4

Walking into the cafeteria, you stretched out your back and adjusted your bag. Painting was doing a number on your posture but you loved how it was starting to look and so was Jongho. He knew he didn’t do much when it came to the project itself but he still felt proud, of you and of the work he had done. 

You spotted Jongho at his table with the other’s and smiled. You hadn’t seen him since that Saturday and were wondering if things were going to be awkward, they weren’t over text. But in real life things could be different. 

He obviously hadn’t told any of the others about that Saturdays’ actual events, it was too private and too sacred to him for that. Eventhough he hadn’t seen you since that day, you were the only thing running through his mind. At wrestling practice, in class, at work and at home. His head was in the clouds and he absolutely never wanted to come down. 

Catching a glimpse of you, he couldn’t help but wave you over. When you saw him standing, smiling and waving to you from his table you realised you were worried about nothing. 

“Hey beautiful.” Jongho said, earning a deep blush from you and surprised looks from the others. “That’s new.” San commented and Jongho smacked him on the shoulder, before grabbing your hand. He sat back down and pulled you down with him so that you were sat on his knee. It was intimate and it garnered looks from people who didn’t know what was going on between you two, but you really couldn’t care. You were although embarrassed, incredibly happy. 

“Project needs to be turned in a week. Think we’ll finish it on time?” Jongho asked softly and you nodded your head. “I think so. I have to present it too. But you have wrestling practice, so you focus on that. I can handle the rest of the project.” You assured, allowing your hand to come up to his cheek. Jongho could feel his ears turning pink at the sudden affection, not used to you being the one to make the first move. 

Your thumb stroked his cheek gently and you quickly pecked his lips. You were feeling brave. “What was that?” He asked while giggling and you shrugged. 

“Just another new thing I’m trying out.” 

A/N: This took too long to write and it is all over the place. This is also the biggest story I have ever written so if you actually take the time to read this... I’m sorry? 

Sorry it took so long as well. A lot of stuff has been going on in my brain lately. Anyways, feedback is kindly appreciated and encouraged. 

[whenisitenoughtrees]

thousands to prophecy failure

Janus blinks. “You’re sick,” he says. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t die in here.”

Well, yes, Roman has gathered that much. But that doesn’t answer his real question: why is Janus the one doing it?

When Thomas experiences creative burn-out, he struggles with a few days of unproductivity. When Roman experiences creative burn-out, he gets sick. And it's fine, really; he'll suffer through it if it means that he can come up with ideas for Thomas. That's all that matters, right?

Luckily, there are others who disagree with him.

Content Warnings: vomiting, depictions of illness

Word Count: 4,427

(a repost, since the first attempt wouldn’t show up in the tags; see that one for the ao3 link)

It doesn’t come on suddenly. So really, Roman has no excuse.

It starts with chills running up and down his spine, shooting into his limbs and setting his fingers to trembling. He glares at his hand and decides to press on, decides to keep going, because he has come up with so many ideas but none of them seem quite good enough, quite able to hold up under the inevitable criticism of the others. He keeps going, keeps creating, and ignores the way his body begins to ache.

None of it is good enough, and he hates it all, because with every failed idea, he’s failing Thomas, is disappointing Thomas.

Magnifying, Logan’s voice whispers in his head, and he should probably pay attention, but Logan’s voice is also whispering things like, Illogical and unrealistic, and, Really, Roman, you couldn’t come up with anything that makes more sense than this? And it’s joining other imagined slights, joining the image of Patton’s face turning away from him and Virgil’s dark glower, Janus’ smooth, mocking laugh and Remus’ smile looming out of the darkness.

He needs to come up with something good. But the words are slipping away from him, slipping away even as his body trembles harder and his forehead beads with sweat, and he can’t think of anything at all. He starts and stops in fits, and he scribbles out half-baked ideas only to crumple them up and throw them in the wastepaper basket moments later. He began this morning so well, so upbeat and optimistic, ready to tackle the day and let the creativity flow like it has for the past week, so why is this happening now?

He keeps trying. But one moment, he’s trying, and the next, his pencil is slipping from his grasp.

He stares at it. It lies there, innocuous, on top of a blank piece of paper. He reaches for it, but his vision swims, and he is hit with a wave of dizziness even as his entire body shudders.

He should have stopped before it came to this point.

But he needed to come up with something good. Still needs. Needs to push through, so he reaches for the pencil again, manages to pick it up, but he’s barely set the tip to paper before his stomach rebels against him. He lurches to his feet and stumbles into the bathroom and vomits into the sink, gripping the counter in order to stay upright. He turns on the tap to wash it all down; he skipped breakfast this morning, so eager to get to work was he, and so it’s more bile than anything else. He wipes his mouth and looks up at his reflection in the mirror.

He looks terrible, his skin shining and flushed, his eyes bright and glazed. He ignored the warning signs, and now the fever has set in, and he can’t possibly work like this, can barely even string a coherent thought together, but he has to, doesn’t he? Doesn’t he need to keep working, to come up with something good, something that he can share with the others without shame, something that they will like, so that they will tell him he did a good job, Roman, we’re proud of you, except they don’t usually tell him that even when he does do a good job, so what exactly is the point?

No, wait, the point is--

The point is Thomas, isn’t it? He needs something good for Thomas, and it doesn’t matter if the others don’t praise him so long as it helps Thomas follow his dreams, succeed in life, be who he wants to be--

Does Thomas even like him, though? He’s not sure. His brain is hazy, muddled, dark. He can’t remember.

He needs to keep working. He knows that much. Needs to keep working, even though he feels lightheaded, unsteady, even though his empty stomach is performing flips and twirls and the very thought of moving makes nausea rise again.

He trudges out of his bathroom, intent on making it to his desk, but then, the floor rises up in front of him. He barely feels the impact, though the breath is knocked out of his lungs in a wheezing gasp, and it’s harder than it should be to draw it back in. He takes a moment to realize where he is-- the floor, cold and hard and hardly the place for a prince to be-- before heaving himself up, but that doesn’t quite work, because all the strength seems to have been drained from his limbs, so he collapses back and lies there for a little while. Breathing.

The world swims. He pushes himself onto his back, eventually, and the ceiling wheels above him, all his fairy lights spinning and twirling. He raises up a shaking hand, but they bob just out of his grasp. And it’s sad, because he just wants to touch them, just wants someone to touch him, and his skin is too hot and too cold by turns and he’s so uncomfortable so he just lies here and he thinks he might be crying but he can’t stop and he can’t get up.

He needs to keep working. The longer he lies here, the more of a failure he is.

But he can’t get up.

Time passes, he thinks. Nausea crashes over him in waves, though he doesn’t throw up again. He might sleep at some point, but his dreams are troubled, full of darkness and laughter and eyes, all looking at him, all pointing at him, and he tries to run but he can’t escape them because no matter how fast he goes, the ground slips out from underneath his feet and he falls, falls, falls.

Someone knocks at the door. He turns his head to look. Someone asks after him. His throat is too dry to do anything but croak, and the door is too far to reach. So whoever it is leaves, and he is left with the spinning fairy lights and the bad dreams that bleed into waking, and he is hit with the sudden surety that there is someone in the corner of the room, staring at him.

He wants to get away. Wants them to stop looking. He struggles to sit up, wide-eyed and scared and shaking as they keep watching him, unblinking, and he doesn’t know their face, but those eyes are his brother’s, he’s sure,bright and gleaming with malice, so either Remus is here or something else has stolen his eyes and he doesn’t know which is worse.

He struggles to sit up, but he fails, collapsing backward and coughing, coughing until he thinks he’s about to literally cough up his lungs. The fit passes, and he curls into himself on the floor, and he thinks he cries a little bit more. Reality drops in and out of focus, hazy images dancing before his eyes, and he can’t even begin to make sense of any of it, and his head pounds.

He sleeps, and then wakes again, and sleeps, and wakes, and then, there are hands on him, lifting him, and he gasps, striking out, because what if the thing is back, the thing with Remus’ eyes, taking him away? He struggles, but to no avail, and only seconds pass before he is dumped on something soft. He cracks his eyes open and sees-- his bed? He’s on his bed. There is a figure moving in the room, too blurry to make out, and he opens his mouth to ask who’s there, but all that escapes his mouth is a weak groan.

The figure stops, turning toward him, and then approaches, reaching for him. He flinches back, but the figure is relentless, placing a hand on his forehead. The hand doesn’t feel like a hand, though. It feels like cloth, like soft cotton, and that doesn’t make any sense at all.

“Easy now,” the figure says, and their voice is smooth and familiar, and he thinks he should recognize it, but its identity slips from his mind, like trying to hold on to smoke. “You’ve done quite a number on yourself, this time.”

He can’t figure out what they mean. But then, it strikes him, a bolt out of the blue: he needs to work. He has work to finish, or else Thomas will be disappointed in him, and the dread of that happening is enough to give him the strength to move, to start to get out of bed.

But the figure holds him down. And he fights, he tries, but he is too weak, and he has to lie back against the bed again, gasping and humiliated. He needs to work; doesn’t this person know that?

“The only thing you need to do right now is rest,” the figure says, pushing him against the pillows. He wants to keep fighting, really, he does, but the pillows are so soft, and then the figure covers him with a blanket, and he has no chance at all against that.

His dreams are uneasy, still, full of lights and sounds and colors he doesn’t understand. His brother is there again, though whether he is friend or foe, he cannot tell. He has never been able to tell. He wakes panting, and there is someone sitting on his bed, hovering over him, their face just beyond recognition.

“Here,” they say, and hold something in front of his face. A water glass, he realizes, and with that comes the realization that he is so, so thirsty. The person helps him tilt his head upright and holds the glass to his lips, and he gulps the water down, almost choking in his eagerness. They take the water away too soon, and he whimpers a complaint, but they hold fast in their denial.

“Too much at once will make you sick,” they say, and pause. “Well. Sicker, I suppose.”

The words don’t quite make sense, don’t quite resolve into meaning in his head. But he decides that he likes the sound of their voice. It is cool and comforting, a balm to the heat that rages through his mind.

They laugh. “Thank you,” they say. “Get some more rest, Roman.”

That sounds like a good idea. Only, not, because isn’t there something he’s supposed to be doing?

“Yes,” they say. “Resting.”

No, that’s not it, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s fairly certain that he’s supposed to be working on something. Something for Thomas? He needs to have an idea for Thomas. That’s it.

“You’ve already had plenty of ideas for Thomas,” they tell him. “That’s why you’re sick. You push yourself too hard.”

Alright, he is absolutely certain that at least part of that is a lie.

“Oh, I so want to argue this with you right now. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

Besides, even if that’s right and he has had plenty of ideas already, none of them were any good. That was the point. It doesn’t matter how many ideas he has if none of them are good enough, and he distinctly remembers an overflowing wastepaper basket, spilling over with all of his failures, all of his broken attempts at creating something that will pass muster.

They sigh, then, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. He feels so very tired.

“You haven’t,” they say. “And that is the whole truth.”

He is fading back into sleep, and it feels like he’s falling. He’s not sure if he imagines the kiss to his forehead, or the fingers that lightly stroke his hair. He hopes not. It’s all soft and cool and sweet, and he would very much like to be touched like that again.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps. It feels like no time at all before he opens his eyes, his head pounding, and sees Janus sitting by his bedside, flipping through the pages of a book. It’s an utterly incongruous sight; he doesn’t think Janus has ever been in his room before, or at least, not that he can remember. He might be forgetting something; his head feels fuzzy, his thoughts disordered and confused and feverish, and he feels as though he is burning up.

That would be the fever, probably.

“J’nus?” he rasps, and Janus jerks, snapping his book shut. He glances over, and Roman’s vision is a bit blurry, but he can see the way his eyes widen.

“Roman,” he says, scooting his chair closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“‘M hot,” he says. He pauses, considering. “Head h’rts. Back aches. Why’re you h’re?”

Janus blinks. “You’re sick,” he says. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t die in here.”

Well, yes, Roman has gathered that much. But that doesn’t answer his real question: why is Janus the one doing it? He knows that illness makes Virgil anxious, and he can’t imagine that Logan would jump at the chance to play nurse, but why not Patton? Unless it has been Patton, and Janus is standing in while he takes a break.

His head hurts so much.

He must be making a face, because Janus frowns. “If you’d rather someone else,” he says, voice unreadable, “I’d be happy to get Patton.”

For some reason, that thought is just about unbearable. He doesn’t want Janus to leave. In fact, he rather wants Janus to be closer to him than he is right now.

“No,” he says, and works his arm free from the covers. It’s harder than it should be; the limb feels unaccountably heavy. But he manages it, and makes a grabby hand in Janus’ direction. Janus stares at it, and then sits on the edge of the bed, hesitant. It’s odd. Should Janus be hesitant? He’s pretty sure that’s weird. But that’s fine; Janus can be weird as long as he stays.

He stares at his face, at the frown twisting his lips, at the furrow between his brows. His hat is missing, and that’s definitely part of what’s weird, because it’s left his hair messy and sticking out in all kinds of directions, almost like he’s been running his hand through it, though Roman has no idea why he’d be doing that when he usually takes so much pride in being put together. He looks tired too, like he’s been awake for a while; his eyes are bloodshot, and there are deep bags beneath them. Roman finds himself staring at the left one, yellow and slit, and from there, his gaze travels across the left side of his face. His scales are lovely, green-gold, and they appear as though they’re moving, rippling on his face, though Roman’s pretty sure now that they’re not, that the fever is cooking his brain and making him see things.

“Hey,” he slurs, “c’mere.”

Janus frowns deeper, and that’s a bit funny, but he scoots closer, leaning in, like he thinks Roman needs to tell him something. He doesn’t. He just wants to touch.

He brings his hand up and starts trailing his fingers across his cheek. His scales are so, so smooth, so nice and cold under his fingertips, and he loves them so much.

“They’re very nice,” he says, enunciating as much as he can to make sure his point gets across. “Very pretty. You’re very pretty.”

Janus inhales, but doesn’t say anything. His eyes are wide, and Roman notices that his slit pupil has blown wider, rounder. There’s a word for that, but he can’t remember it. Also, his face is red. The right half, the human half, which also looks nice, but not as nice and pretty as the scaled half.

If his scales are cold, is the rest of him cold? Roman is very hot, hot like he’s full of lava instead of blood, like he’s burning from the inside out, and his thoughts are fuzzy, but this seems to make sense. He nods to himself, and then grabs at Janus’ arm, yanking him closer. Janus doesn’t move much, so he tries again.

“What are you doing?” Janus asks, sounding a bit strangled.

“Cuddling,” Roman informs him. “‘M hot, an’ you’re not. C’mon.” He tugs again, and this time, Janus moves closer. Slowly, though, as if he’s waiting for Roman to tell him to stop, which is ridiculous. He swings his legs into the bed and settles against the headboard, placing just a bit of distance between the two of them, but Roman is quick to fix that, snuggling against his side.

Janus makes a noise. Like a little squeak. It’s cute.

“You’re cute,” he mumbles, just to make sure he’s aware, and falls asleep again.

His dreams are restless, and he wakes up several more times to sip at water, and once to throw it all up over the side of the bed. He imagines castles falling and doors that won’t open and a dragon that glares down at him with golden eyes and tells him to sleep, that he’s safe. He fights dragons, usually, but he believes this one. It speaks with a voice that he knows he should not trust, but does all the same.

He wakes, and he is alone.

It takes his sluggish mind a moment to parse out why this is strange. His last clear memory is throwing up in the bathroom sink; the journey from there to here is foggy. He fell on the floor, and… made it to the bed, somehow. He is alone now, but someone was here, beside him. Someone comforting, someone safe, someone who should still be here. The memories dissipate when he tries to reach for them.

He levers himself into a sitting position, wincing at the weakness of his limbs. There is a dip in the mattress next to him, as well as a half-full glass of water on his nightstand, but his room is otherwise undisturbed. His gaze travels to his desk, messy and disordered, wastepaper basket overflowing, and he winces again.

So much for getting any work done. The whole mindscape has probably heard of his weakness by now. He sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, pressing his hand to his head as a wave of dizziness hits him. He has no idea how long it’s been, whether hours have passed or days. Most likely the latter; he feels as though an entire castle has collapsed on top of him.

Did he dream about that? He’s pretty sure he dreamed about that.

The door opens, then, and he looks up, startled. It is Janus who enters, a steaming bowl balanced in one hand as he closes the door behind him. It takes a moment for him to notice Roman looking at him, and Roman takes full advantage of that time to panic, because why is Janus here? He could imagine anyone else being his caretaker, but not him. Sure, they’ve apologized to each other, fixed what was most obviously broken, but that does not mean that there is no tension between them, a hesitance to their interactions, a caution in the way they look at each other when they think the other won’t notice.

Roman has wanted to bridge that gap for some time now. But he has never known how.

Janus meets his eyes and visibly startles. His hand jerks, sloshing a bit of what Roman assumes to be soup onto the floor, and in the split second before his expression reverts to cool, blank professionalism, he makes a face of what Roman can only assume to be unadulterated relief, and Roman’s breath catches.

When was the last time someone looked at him like that?

“You’re awake, then,” Janus says, walking over and placing the soup on the nightstand. There is a chair next to the bed, and he sits in it, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his pants.

“Um, yeah,” Roman says. He licks his lips; his mouth is dry and his lips unbearably chapped. He must look a disaster. “How long--?”

“Three days,” Janus replies, and Roman blanches, because that long, really? He could be lying, of course, but there’s no reason to lie about this. So he’s likely telling the truth, which means he’s let Thomas down even worse than he thought. That realization makes him want to shrivel up and die, just a little bit.

“Well,” he says, trying for his characteristic bravado and not quite finding it. His voice trembles, and as annoying as it is, he can’t smooth it over. “I suppose you got drafted into playing nursemaid. I apologize for that. I’m sure you--”

“I didn’t get drafted into anything,” Janus says, his voice sharp, but infuriatingly sincere. “I’m the one who came in and found you.”

He pauses. “Ah,” he says eventually, because how else is he supposed to respond to that? He vaguely remembers being unable to make it to the bed, spending what must have been hours on the floor before… well. He doesn’t remember being transferred to the bed, but it must have happened, and it must have been Janus who did it. Must have been Janus who picked him up, held him against his chest and carried him to his soft mattress, and he should probably derail this train of though because it’s definitely making him blush, and he really hopes he can blame it on any lingering fever--

“We’ve had this discussion before, Roman,” Janus says, his voice just as sharp. There is something else there, too, something that sounds almost like worry. But it can’t be worry; why would Janus be worried about him? “You know very well how creative burn-out affects you. You need to be taking better care of yourself.”

Roman looks away, looks past him and to his desk, cluttered with papers and yet not a single good idea among them. Of course, he should head off burn-out before it happens, because it leaves both him and Thomas in a worse position than they started in. But he thought he could push through it, thought that just another few minutes would bring the inspiration he sought.

“Right,” he says quietly. “I’ll do better next time.”

To his surprise, Janus groans, and he looks over to see that he’s covering his face with one hand. One gloved hand, and another memory floats back to him, of a hand touching his forehead, carding through his hair.

“It’s not about doing better,” Janus says. “It’s about you needing to not make yourself sick, and not because it means you’ll miss work. You deserve to take care of yourself. It seems that you’re the only one in the mindscape that doesn’t understand that.”

He blinks. “I just don’t want to disappoint--” he tries, but Janus doesn’t let him finish.

“Oh, yes, because everyone is so disappointed in you,” he says. “Because no one is worried out of their minds that you pushed yourself into days of illness. Because absolutely no one cares about you for you and not the ideas you provide, which, I might add, are certainly just as bad as you think they are and not worthy of being used at all.” He takes his hand from his face and glares. “Really, Roman. How many times will it take for you to get it through your thick skull that just maybe, we all love you and want you to be well?”

There is so much to unpack there. But for some reason, Roman’s mind is stalling on one phrase.

“You… love me?” he asks weakly, because if he’s not mistaken, Janus said, we all, which would imply that he’s including himself in that, but that simply doesn’t make any sense at all.

How, after everything he’s said and done, could Janus care for him?

Janus stares at him, and then scoots his chair closer, so that their knees knock against each other. Roman is expecting denial, or a lengthy explanation of some sort, but instead, Janus gathers up both of his hands in his.

“Yes,” he says simply, and leans in to kiss him on the forehead. All of the breath escapes Roman’s lungs, but Janus doesn’t stop there. He plants one on Roman’s cheek next, and then the other, and Roman thinks his heart might beat right our of his chest. Perhaps he’s still feverish, still dreaming, still hallucinating, and perhaps he’ll wake up to find an empty room and a cold bed, or will wake up to find that he is still on the floor and none of this was real at all.

Then, Janus captures his lips, and he forgets to think. It’s soft and slow and sweet, barely more than a graze, barely long enough for him to respond at all. He should say something, he thinks, when Janus pulls back, but his mouth has forgotten how to make sounds, apparently.

“Forgive me if I misinterpreted,” Janus says, sounding a bit hoarse. “But you, uh. Said my scales were pretty.” A blush has risen on his right cheek. Roman doesn’t think he could feel any more mortified.

“Oh, Odin’s beard,” he moans. “I said that out loud?”

Because he really wouldn’t put it past himself, feverish and delusional, to admit something that he’s thought many times before, thought and never intended to reveal. And for a moment, he fears he’s said the wrong thing, that Janus will mistake his meaning, will back off when that is absolutely the last thing he wants, once he gets past his embarrassment. But then, Janus laughs.

“Oh, no, not at all,” he says. “Just like you didn’t call me cute, or tug me in to cuddle with you.”

Oh, that’s… ringing a bell, now that he thinks about it. Great. Wonderful. Very princely behavior.

But then, Janus kisses him again, just like the first, and he forgets to feel upset with himself, if it has led to this.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Janus murmurs, “but I’d like to make sure you take care of yourself, if you’ll allow me.” He pulls away a bit, just enough to look into Roman’s eyes. “You are so worthy of love. And you’re allowed to take things that you want.”

And Roman feels so very warm inside. He doesn’t think it’s the fever anymore; it’s like a sun, finally rising after a long night, like flowers blooming in the meadow now that spring has come at last.

Perhaps ideas will come later. And perhaps that’s not a bad thing.

“Well, if that’s so,” he says, and leans in to kiss Janus himself.