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deakyjoe · 1 month

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I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Warnings: sickness, sexual references and innuendos, implication of Bob having a “lieutenant” kink, just fluff mostly, reader is used to pushing people away, they’re like hella in love but won’t say it

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Wrote this exhausted because I haven’t been able to sleep these past few days due to being sick. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You stared at the last text message Bob had sent you.

Okay, get well soon!

It was unclear whether the constant pounding in your head was what was making you feel sick or if it was how quickly the text conversation had ended with your boyfriend. Well, kind-of boyfriend. You'd been on a lot of dates over the last few months but hadn't actually made it official yet.

It's not like you expected anything from him, you were used to men being pretty dismissive, and his message was actually very friendly, especially with the exclamation point at the end, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of something at him just ending the conversation like that.

To be fair to him, you had told him that you were fine, just had a cold or a minor case of the flu. It was a little worse than that but you weren't used to telling people your problems, used to keeping them bottled up inside. So you guess you couldn't really blame him for taking your word for granted and assuming that, as you'd said, you were fine. And maybe he was busy.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside, burying your face in one of the many blankets you'd dragged to your couch in an attempt to feel slightly warmer. You were being ridiculous, this is exactly what you wanted. And what you expected. At least you had peace and quiet for the day whilst you recovered.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep came naturally with the state your body was in and you were thankful for it, hoping that the headache that had been plaguing you since you first woke up that morning would be gone by the time you woke up again.

It wasn't.

In fact, it only got worse when the rhythmic throbbing in your skull matched the timing of the person knocking on your front door. You groaned quietly to yourself and dragged yourself up off the couch, wrapping a blanket tight around your shoulders and padding to the door with only one sock on. You figured the other one must have fallen off during your nap.

You didn't even bother looking through the peephole to see who was bothering you, hoping to just snap at them to go away once you'd managed to unlock the door.

That plan was foiled when you were greeted by your favourite pair of baby blue eyes behind wire framed glasses. You immediately softened at the sight of your kind-of boyfriend.

"Oh, hi." You croaked, immediately feeling sheepish that you were about to shout at him without even thinking about the consequences.

Bob frowned at you, giving you a quick once over. "You're sick."

"Yes, I told you that." You chuckled, coughing into your elbow as soon as the words had left your mouth.

"Sicker than you let on." He clarified.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was right. But that's just who you were. Keep everything to yourself, was your motto.

So you just asked him a question instead. "Why are you here? I said I was fine."

Bob smiled at that. "I think your exact words were 'yeah, I'm good' which I knew was a lie."

"Oh." That surprised you.

He went further. "You only say you're good when something's wrong."

God, were you that easy to read?

"So, I thought I'd come check on you." He stiffened suddenly. "I hope that's okay."

You didn't think it possible but somehow you softened more under his worried gaze. "Yes, that's very okay. Do you want to come in?"

You opened the door wider for him, stepping aside and grinning when he hurried in and kicked off his shoes. It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked good. Very good. If you didn't feel like you were dying then you'd definitely be jumping his bones right about now. You still kind of wanted to. You pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't realise how hot it is outside. I'm freezing." You mumbled, shuffling back towards your couch. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. But if I did then I'd make it myself. I'm here to look after you." He placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of the blanket pile you'd previously made, smirking at the sight of it.

You shifted away from him. "You don't have to touch me. I'm sick and disgusting right now."

He huffed. "You're beautiful and lovely like always."

"Liar." You grumbled, pushing back into his hand nevertheless.

"No, just smitten and honest." He confessed, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you in the millions of blankets. "Have you eaten today?"

You shook your head no. You didn't feel up to cooking.

"Want me to make you something?" He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"No." You sighed. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm making you something."

You huffed. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to." He cut you off. “I don’t want you to think you can’t ask me for things. You know I care about you, right?”

You nodded slowly. “I know, I’m just used to doing stuff for myself.”

Bob smiled gently. “I know that. But now you don’t have to. I’m here for you. To help. Or whatever you need.”

You were about to respond with a fond thank you when you were interrupted by his cellphone chiming in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He grunted, pulling the device from the front of his jeans.

“It’s okay.” You coughed, curious as to why he was suddenly frowning. “Who is it?”

"Had plans with the team tonight. Was supposed to meet them for drinks." He mumbled, typing away on his phone.

"Oh, god." You rubbed your hand across your face. "Please go. You don't have to stay here. Don't let them down."

Bob suddenly looked up from his screen and gave you an amused smile. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm looking after my sick girlfriend."

He said it so casually, as if he’d been doing it regularly. Your heart rate picked up at that. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Bob Floyd's girlfriend. You could've squealed with glee. You stayed silent and settled for a pleased grin.

He sighed to himself once he’d replied to his team and placed his cell down on your coffee table. “Where were we? Oh! Right. Me cooking for you.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do that.” You pulled your feet up onto the couch after a particularly violent shiver ran through you. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bob reached out and pressed the back of his hand onto your forehead. “You have a fever. And you’re still shaking like we’re in Antarctica.”

“It’s just my immune system fighting back.” You hummed, leaning into his touch as he moved his hand down to cup your cheek.

“Exactly. And I’m sure some warm soup will just help your immune system out.” He crouched down in front of you, taking the other side of your face in his other hand. “Please let me take care of you.”

The words were so softly spoken, so tender, that you almost started crying. No one had ever sounded so sincere before, especially when it came to your well-being. If you weren’t so scared of infecting him, you would’ve leaned forward to kiss him.

So you could only reply quietly, with the smallest of nods. “Okay.”

His face burst into a dazzling smile, the kind that made you never want to stop looking at him. “Okay. You rest some more and I’ll go make that for you.”

You smiled weakly back at him, suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I have any soup.”

Bob didn’t falter. “That’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

You thought that maybe you were a little bit in love with him.

“Help yourself to anything.” It didn’t need to be said, he knew your kitchen pretty well at this point and you always made it clear that he was free to eat or use anything in it when he was over at your place.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood up. “Try to sleep a little. This might take a while.”

You snorted, regretting it immediately as it made your throat feel all scratchy. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Bob paused for a second, halfway to taking a step towards the kitchen, and looked back at you. “Lieutenant?”

You nodded, mouth twitching at the corners.

He seemed to think on it for a second. “Hm, we’ll come back to that.”

You giggled quietly into your blanket and settled back onto the couch, closing your eyes and thinking of Bob Floyd. Your boyfriend. Your extremely caring boyfriend. Who was in your kitchen making you soup! When did you suddenly get so lucky? The musings drifted away with you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Some time passed before you were awoken again by Bob stroking the side of your face and softly uttering your name.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, slightly confused as your head cleared. “What’s going on?”

“Soup.” He replied simply, picking up your legs and sitting down before placing them across his lap. He leaned forward to grab the bowl and spoon on your coffee table and then turned to face you.

“You gonna feed me?” You teased.

Bob smiled. “I would if you wanted me to but I’m sure you’d rather I throw this soup in your face than do that.”

He was right.

“Hm, when did you get to know me so well?” You asked, half joking as you took the bowl and spoon from him. The soup was a rich green colour. What he’d found to put in it, you had no idea. “Always thought I was closed off.”

“You are.” He shrugged. “But I pay attention.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his again. He was just looking at you with a slight smile, hands smoothing up and down the lengths of your clothed legs.

You were definitely a little bit in love with him.

You defaulted to a joke. "Remind me when I'm feeling better that you're gonna get it sooo good."

Bob snorted. "I think the fever is making you delirious."

"I'm just frustrated because you, somehow, look hotter than usual and I'm too sick to do anything about it." You gestured vaguely to his outfit, using the spoon to point.

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Hot.” You insisted.

"Okay, I'll remind you." He rolled his eyes. “Now eat your soup.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You mumbled, dipping the spoon into the thick liquid.

He huffed out a laugh.

You weren’t surprised in the least that the soup was delicious. You were starting to believe that Bob might actually be the perfect man, some sort of miracle sent to Earth to apologise for all the wrongdoing in the world. How he’d managed to concoct a good soup out of the limited ingredients in your kitchen was beyond you. And yet, he’d done it.

“What the hell did you put in this?” You asked, frowning at him mock suspiciously. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he’d ordered it to your place while you were asleep. But Bob Floyd wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Some stuff I found laying around.” He shrugged modestly. “Didn’t follow a recipe or anything.”

You scoffed. “You’re something else.”

He just shrugged again, a pleased smile playing on the corners of his lips, and watched you practically inhale the rest of the dish. He was very glad you’d eaten it.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s because of the soup or because you’re here.”

Bob’s heart thudded against his rib cage at that confession. “Just happy to help.”

You hummed and stared at him fondly.

He had trouble getting his next question out, distracted by the way you were looking at him. “Do- do you- do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitated before answering him, mulling an idea over in your mind. “There is something I want.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He was willing to do anything for you.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You sighed.

He smiled. “I think we left that concern behind when I first got here.”

Your eyes widened. “No! Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not trying to.” Bob assured you. “But I doubt whatever you want is going to have a higher risk of getting me sick than me just sitting here next to you.”

You grumbled something underneath your breath to yourself.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting sick off of you.”

Maybe you were a lot in love with him.

So you let it burst out of you. “Wanna cuddle.”

Bob didn’t even respond to you, just scooped you up into his arms and maneuvered the two of you into the position he knew you liked - him on his back with you half on top of him and half next to him, one leg and one arm slung around him, your face buried his chest and head tucked under his chin, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your arm, trace patterns across your back and comb through your hair.

He knew you so well.

You nuzzled your face against his t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He inhaled deeply. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Making you soup is nothing. It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney.” He paused. “Although I’d probably do that too.”

You chuckled against his chest. “What I mean is, most guys would’ve accepted my ‘I’m good’ text and carried on with their day. You didn’t.”

“Because I knew you were lying.” He reminded you.

“That’s my point. No one has ever known I was lying before.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “I’m glad you knew.”

“Me too.”

Bob wanted to kiss you but knew you’d kill him if he tried. So he settled for the smile he gave you that always made you look away nervously. Which you did, as predicted, and then swiftly fell asleep against him. He wondered how’d he’d gotten so lucky. Sure, he was caring for a sick person but it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Which should sound ridiculous but to him it made more sense than anything.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when you whined lowly in your sleep and held onto him tighter. He smiled down at you and held you closer to his chest.

Bob knew then that he was a lot in love with you.

A/N: And we’re back!

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cal-kestis · 8 months

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HOW TO: Make an iPhone Layout + Downloadable Template

Hi! I've gotten a few messages asking for a tutorial on my iPhone gifsets — but instead of only doing a tutorial (that would probably be triple the length this one already is), I decided to turn my layout into a template with all the bits and bobs! In the "tutorial" under the cut, I'll share everything you'll need, a free template download, and quickly go over how to use this template. :)

Disclaimer: This template uses Video Timeline and this tutorial assumes you have a basic to intermediate understanding of Photoshop.

PHASE 1: THE ASSETS

1.1 – Download fonts. These are the fonts used for all assets I've included in my template: – SF Pro or SF Pro Display (Regular, Medium, Bold): Either version works, they look nearly identical. You can download directly from https://developer.apple.com/fonts/ or easily find it via Google – Bebas Neue: Free on Google Fonts, Adobe Fonts, and dafont – Times New Roman (Bold): Should be a default font in Photoshop

Make sure to download and install any of the fonts you don't already have before opening my template. That way, once you open the template file, all the settings (font size, weight, spacing, color, opacity, etc.) are as intended.

1.2 – Download my template. Before you use my template, all I ask is that you don't claim or redistribute it as your own and that you give me proper credit in the caption of your post. Making these iPhone gifsets takes me a longgg time and turning this layout into a template took several hours too.

DOWNLOAD TEMPLATE VIA KO-FI ← This template is completely free to download (just enter $0), but if you feel inclined to tip me, I appreciate you! 💖

BTW this template also includes some of my frequently used icons!

NOTE: If, for some reason, you open the template and see the pop-up shown below, click "NO" — otherwise, the fonts will be all messed up:

And if you see this triangle with an exclamation point by a text layer, don't double-click it — it'll mess up the font as well:

PHASE 2: THE GIFS

I'm just going to briefly go over gif sizes and my recommendations. Also, keep in mind when grabbing your scenes, you'll want all of these gifs to be the same amount of frames.

2.1 – Background Gif: 540 x 540 px. I recommend this size so you have a good amount of visibility for the gif behind the iPhone wallpaper. I also recommend making this black and white (or in my case, black and white with a slight blue tint — idk I just like the way it looks) so the wallpaper coloring can stand out.

2.2 – Wallpaper Gif: 230 (w) x 500 (h) px. Keep in mind the very narrow dimensions of the wallpaper! And also keep in mind that you'll have a bunch of apps and widgets covering the image. I try to use wide shots (or layer my clips into looking like wide shots). Also, keep in mind your color scheme for your set and your character's aesthetic! I tend to focus on one or two colors for the wallpaper.

I usually position the wallpaper to the side with 20px bumpers, so there's lots of space to see the background:

2.3 – Large Photo Widget Gif: 201 (w) x 96 (h) px.

2.4 – Small Photo Widget Gif: 94 x 94 px.

PHASE 3: THE TEMPLATE – "IPHONE" FOLDER

In this section, I'll try to quickly walk you through how to use this template and some bits that may require extra instructions. I'll be going through each folder from top to bottom.

3.1 – Status Bar. Time, Service, and WiFi are pretty self-explanatory. In the Battery folder, you can use the shape tool to adjust the shape layers labeled "Fill (Adjustable Shape!)" to customize the battery level.

3.2 – Message Notification. Again, these are pretty self-explanatory. I've already masked the circle for the contact photo, so you can simply import any photo and use the transform tool to shrink it down. The circle is 24x24 px. If you don't want to use a photo, there's another folder called Default Initials.

If your message text can't fit the text box, the message should end with ellipses which is how iOS caps off long texts.

3.3 – Blurred Banner (IMPORTANT) This folder is easy to miss because there's only one placeholder layer in there. On iPhones, the area behind a banner notification and the dock get blurred (including the wallpaper and any apps).

What to do: Make a duplicate of the apps in Row 1 and/or widgets that intersect the message banner, convert them all into one smart object, apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 pixels) on the smart object, and move the smart object into this masked folder!

(There's another masked folder in the Wallpaper folder for the dock which I'll go over in that section.)

3.4 – Apps Turn off the yellow guide if you don't need it to keep things aligned and turn off layers you don't need by clicking the eye icon. Replace the "App" placeholder text with your app name, change the color or gradient of the square to compliment your color scheme, and add your custom app icon overlay!

If you can't find an app icon you need from the ones I provided, flaticon.com is a great resource. Also, if you can only find the filled version of an icon, check out this tutorial for how to make any text or shape into an outline.

Also, each app folder has 4 notification bubble options (1-4 digits). Again, you can toggle these on and off as you need!

3.5 – Big Widgets I like using these when my wallpaper has A LOT of negative space to fill. I included the Photos and Books widgets in my template, but there are lots of widgets available on iPhones. You can check some of the other ones I've done here, or if you have an iPhone, simply try adding some widgets to your phone!

There are also widgets bigger than these, but they would take up half of the phone screen which is why I don't use them for these edits.

3.6 – Small Widgets The only thing I'll say about these — because they're pretty straight forward — is there are a lot more weather themes than I included in my template. Also, if you set your character's phone to evening, the weather widget will show a dark background (sometimes with stars), so keep that in mind.

Speaking of, I've included Light Modes and Dark Modes for, I think, every applicable widget.

3.7 – Page Dots These barely perceptible dots indicate that your character has more pages of apps than shown in your gifset (so if an anon tries to come at you, you can just say "it's on the next page of apps" /j /lh)

3.8 – Dock Again, the dock has notification bubble options and I've included the default app designs, custom filled designs, and custom outlined designs for iMessage, Phone, Email, and Safari (there's also a FaceTime alternative if that's how your character rolls). These are usually the apps people keep in their Dock, but this is fully customizable too. So, if your character is, like, super obsessed with Candy Crush or something and needs it in thumb's reach — you can put it in the dock.

3.9 – Wallpaper This whole folder is masked already to a 230x500 px rounded rectangle.

Inside, you'll find another "Blurred Portion" folder for the area behind the message banner notification and the dock.

What to do: Duplicate your gif layer and place it in this folder, remove any sharpening filters, and apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 px). Be sure to add any coloring/adjustment layers ABOVE this folder and your original sharpened gif layer.

PHASE 4: EXPORT

We made it!

I hope this template makes it super easy for you to recreate this layout! If you decide to try it out, feel free to tag me with #usernik.

If you notice anything wonky about the template, kindly let me know so I can fix it! And if you have any questions about how to use this template, please don't hesitate to send me a message! I just ask that you try to be specific in your question so I'm able to answer you the best I can!

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magiccath · 5 months

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How could you not know?

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which an alien fortune teller lets your feelings for the Doctor slip

“5027, the outskirts of Alpha Centauri,” The Doctor explained, landing the TARDIS with a flourish. The ship retaliated with a shake making you wobble a bit in a desperate attempt to not fall over. Sometimes you wondered if the Doctor actually did know what he was doing when it came to the TARDIS. He claimed she was a finicky ship, but you had your suspicions regarding his flying abilities.

Once you had regained your footing you exchanged a childish grin with the Time Lord, both of you excited for your next adventure. Without warning, you bounded excitedly out of the ship, anxious to see what was on the other side.

The sky instantly caught your attention, its purple hue so different from anything you’d seen before. Multiple moons littered the skyline, and cars zoomed through the air above your head. The grass was soft and emitted a faintly sweet aroma. You turned your face to the sky, allowing the light rain to fall on you. With an over joyous giggle you looked back at the Doctor “It’s fantastic!”

He smiled at you lovingly from the TARDIS’ doorway, leaning on the frame slightly. He loved seeing you like this.

“Allons-y?” He asked, more a question than an exclamation. You nodded enthusiastically and held your hand out for him. He locked the door before running to your side, slipping your hand into his.

“By now you lot have spread yourselves across the galaxy,” The Doctor explained, “Mingled with aliens and traveled amongst the stars.”

You watched the Doctor as he talked, completely smitten with his knowledge and passion regarding the vast universe. He talked about it with such passion and enthusiasm, that you had no choice but to listen intently.

“Planets like this sort of turn into a melting pot,” He continued, “you can find just about any species here,” He looked down at you with a smile. “The center of the city is a big ‘ol market of sorts. You can get goods and foods from all around the galaxy,” He explained.

“Kind of like an alien farmers market?” You asked with a laugh.

“Sort of,” He shrugged, “you’ll see.”

After a short walk, you had found yourselves in the aforementioned city center. The Doctor wasn’t joking when he called it a big market. For as long as you could see there were rows and rows of vendors selling everything from oddly colored fruits to exotic fibers, and everything in between. It was almost too much, all of the sights, smells, and textures hitting you at once.

Much to the Doctor’s dismay, you asked to stop at every single booth. It was your first space market, and you wanted to see everything. After all, there was so very much to see.

“Where do we even start?” You breathed, still trying to take it all in. As much as you wanted to run wild, the Doctor was the expert here.

The Doctor scanned the area quickly before leading you to a wooden booth selling what appeared to be bread. Surely the Doctor hadn’t taken you to an alien planet for bread? You were almost certain he was aware of the numerous kinds of bread on Earth.

The Doctor paid for two small loaves and handed one to you.

“Did you really just buy bread?” You laughed, looking at the food in your hands.

“Just try it,” The Doctor grinned.

You examined the loaf, finding it to be more of a pastry than a simple loaf of bread. Deciding it was safe enough you bit into it warily. A slightly sour taste assaulted you, catching you off guard. You pulled the bread away to examine the bright pink jelly that filled it.

“What is this?” You asked the Doctor wide-eyed.

“Neo-fruit,” he smiled, taking a large bite out of his own. “Like it?” He asked, mouth half full. You nodded and took another bite, letting the combination of sweet and sour melt on your tongue. The Doctor finished his treat quickly, but you savored yours as the two of you walked along.

At some point you found yourself stuck at a small booth displaying beautiful scarves. Their silky smooth texture had initially drawn your attention, but the longer you looked at them the more interesting they became. In your hands, you held a scarf the same blue as the TARDIS, with lighter-colored swirls and small yellow dots littered throughout. You must have been holding it for a while because the Doctor noticed.

“You like it?” He asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Reminds me of the TARDIS,” You smiled. The Doctor nodded and pulled a few coins from his jacket pocket before handing them to the vendor.

“It’s yours,” He smiled back.

“I- um. Thank you.”

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to the scarf. You nodded quickly, handing it over to him. He ran his fingers through the fabric, unraveling the scarf, before wrapping it gently around you. The action felt so shockingly intimate you couldn’t help but turn a bright scarlet. The Doctor, per usual, had become too distracted to notice. He ran off, leaving you starstruck in his absence.

By the time that you caught back up to the Doctor, he already had two pints of steaming liquid in his hands. He shoved one into your own hands before clinking your glasses together. You stared at the drink, shocked.

“Hot chocolate,” He explained before taking a gulp of his. Foam from the top stuck to his upper lip. You smiled and sipped your own drink, getting the foam on the tip of your nose. Without a second thought, the Doctor used his thumb to wipe it off, the simple touch sending shivers down your spine.

Always in motion, the Doctor kept making his way through the market as you enjoyed your drinks.

You loved spending time with the Doctor like this, taking and laughing while you held hands. His hand always seemed to find its way into yours, almost as if he was scared he might lose you amongst the chaos that followed him.

By the time you had walked through all of the booths, both you and the Doctor were carrying small purchases and laughing comfortably. You decided to loop back through the market on the way to the TARDIS. You walked hand in hand, taking in all of the sights around you.

Your eyes caught on a small booth you hadn’t noticed before. The setup was akin to a fortune teller’s booth. You tugged on the Doctor’s sleeve, excited to see what an alien fortune teller looked like.

You slipped your way through the drapery and into the booth. Inside was a beautiful alien. Her skin was an iridescent white with large ears poking out of her long, silky hair. As your eyes settled on her face, you instantly became aware of her eyes - or lack thereof.

“Greetings!” She hummed, gesturing to the seat before her.

You looked at the Doctor, warry of the stunning creature before you. He nodded, and you took a seat before her. She grasped your hands lightly with her own, her touch feather-light.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke up.

“You love him.”

You cast a wayward glance back at the Doctor, panic coursing through you.

“Yeah,” you laughed, “he’s my best mate.”

“No,” she continued, “you truly love him.”

You stammered, not knowing how to react.

“He’s just a friend,” you smiled painfully. It was true, that’s all the Doctor was.

“But you want more,” she said plainly. You were almost certain if she had eyes they would be baring into your soul.

You looked back at the Doctor, panicked, but he was already walking out of the booth. You pulled your hands from the aliens and dashed after him.

You caught up to him quickly, but he didn’t seem to fully register your presence. The walk back to the TARDIS was silent. The Doctor didn’t seem to have anything to say, and you were too scared to speak up. Was he angry? Your greatest fears settled around you like a very uncomfortable blanket. This was it, the Doctor was finally done with you. All because of one stupid alien.

The Doctor unlocked the ship silently and made his way straight to the console, busying himself with flicking switches and pressing buttons.

You peeled your coat off slowly before draping it over the railing. Absentmindedly your hands went to the scarf around your neck, pulling at the threads anxiously.

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” You laughed, though it wasn’t very convincing.

“No?” The Doctor asked calmly, looking you in the eye. His gaze was so heavy it was almost impossible to look away.

“Really, honestly!” You said, trying to hide your voice crack. The Doctor pulled his eyes away from you and back to the console in front of him. Anxiety built within you again. When the Doctor never responded you spoke up again, “Please say something.”

The Doctor turned his attention back to you, his usually expressive eyes impossible to read.

“Please.” You whispered, pulling at your new scarf desperately.

“You really are oblivious,” He said, pulling his eyes from yours.

“W-what?” You stammered.

“After all this time you still don’t know?” He asked, shoving himself off of the console and walking over to you. “You don’t realize just how hard I’ve fallen for you?”

“Me? Are you sure? Out of the whole universe you fell for me?”

The Doctor laughed brightly, “How could I not?” He asked, his hands ghosting on the sides of your body. You looked up at him, finally seeing all of the love hidden within his honey eyes. You crushed yourself for never noticing it before.

“You’re the most magnificent person I’ve ever met,” he whispered.

Tired of waiting, the Doctor wrapped his arms around you with a newfound urgency. His lips connected with yours, sending all kinds of sparks down your body. You quickly relaxed into the kiss, allowing your arms to drape over his shoulders.

He pulled away briefly, wanting to make sure this was what you wanted. He didn’t even get to open his mouth before you cut him off, a more desperate kiss erupting from you. The Doctor was more than happy to oblige, his arms wrapping even tighter around you. One of his hands moved upwards to cup your face delicately, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, the Doctor grinned at you.

“Can we do more of that?” You asked, breathlessly.

#10th doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor/reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor #the doctor #doctor who #fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #david tennant

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milgram-tournament · 3 months

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 2 BRING IT ON vs. THIS IS HOW TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for BRING IT ON:

"Reasons why Bring it On should win:

- Just by starting the song, the instrumentals are BANGER. Like his more rock style is very cool, even better than After Pain’s more mellow style - Arthur’s voice (Futa’s va) had bills due because have you HEARD his singing?? His raspier voice fits Futa so well - It feels so explosive and like a call to action in a sense, which very much matches Futa’s mentality during trial 1. He also wasn’t playing victim like a CERTAIN girl… (jk, love you mu!) - SAA HAJIMEYOU USOTSUKI KARIDA - UNDEAD HEROOOI YES SLAY KING HIS HIGH NOTE HERE IS HEAVENLY - His scream at the end. Oh my god. HE LITERALLY ATE THIS NOTE. AFTER PAIN COULD NEVER. BRING IT ON FTW 🔥🔥🔥" - His range goes WAAAAAY higher than Mu. She would end up like PHG if she even tried hitting any of his high notes in the last chorus /j

---

- The vocals are amazing, those growls are so well done - You’re able to get Fuuta’s crime and motive pretty succinctly, only based on the visuals - But it still leaves a lot up to interpretation, like how he only attacked once in the final fight scene. It lead to some cool theories. - On that note, the game aspects are so cool!! Especially when paired with him going after people online, just good synergy with awesome style! - Fuuta’s scared face after he realizes what he did. The great contrast of other foes simply being knocked out then being met with blood splatter. - The tempo of the song changing with his mood is a really good touch as well. Make the song more chaotic which highlights his character traits well

---

"propaganda for bring it on: the music FUCKS it genuinely slaps so hard listening to it. song style is incredible its perfect for fuutas personality and gamer vibes. also the way the mv frames everything as a game? the only time real blood and real gore happens being when killcheroy dies? the little details of all the usernames, the different monster designs, the generally distorted feel of everything being too lighthearted?

okay i could go on about the mv for hours but lets not. aside from that: the FEEL of the song!!! the vocals!!!! it really feels like fuuta putting his whole heart into it, into this point of view that both blows problems out of proportion and minimises them, and DEEPLY fucking up. my darling little hypocrite gamer boy twitter user. he makes his witch hunt genuinely sound like something that could sweep people up into it. also the instruments goddddd. the guitar and synth the bass and the drums the DRUMS. im relistening to it to write this propaganda and it keeps making me headbang when i should be writing. if you arent headbanging to bring it on you are LYING.

the way the lyrics are written is wonderful too!!!! they feel so brash and brave and powerful and like. cocky about it. and it fits PERFECTLY. its gets someone swept up into it and it FUCKS. vote bring it on im serious. lets go!! a victory march!! dan da dan!!"

Propaganda for TIHTBILWY:

okay so like the thing im most in love with: the VOCALS!!!! this song has an absolutely AMAZING singer and AMAZING vocals!!!! the way the conversational talk-singing lines still feel so musical!!!! the cute cute cuteeeee mahiru voice!!!! it brings you so much energy!!!! its a song sung with so much love!!!! mahirus va brings such an amazing feel to the song with such amazing talk-singing!!!! its very skillfully done and it happens in i love you too!! mahiru songs r the QUEENS of musical talk singing

the silly phone call bit. kurururu~!

the little vocal flourish and the way her voice raises up like an excited exclamation in the final prechorus!! daijoubu nante kirai DA!

its such a fast song but everything flows so well!!!! it makes it feel so bright and cheery and peppy!!

the instrumental is so underrated just LISTEN to that catchy bass line thats so pretty in the verses!!!! no for real even if u dont vote this is how to be in love with you go listen to the bass line in the verses it works to move both the song and the listener forward at mahirus sweeping breakneck pace. and the cute keyboard sounding and synth instruments!!!! its SUCH a danceable song!!!! i cant listen to it without bopping along in my seat

the way the ominous bits are subtly hidden? it all sounds so cute but there are just these Things that she sings that are really kind of concerning and unhealthy when she sings them!! and the veiled desperation to be in her relationship- listening to that and the cheery tone and breakneck, quick song pace, it really does represent mahiru SO well. she throws in all these little bits that just go noooo teehee the relationships just fine!! when it REALLY isnt

i would listen to mahiru talk for hours

the MV!!!!!! HER FASHION SENSE THE MAGAZINE STYLE!!!! the magazine style especially works so well with her character!!!! its so cute and stunning and just looking at it you have a blast. also her birdcage!!!! her birdcage and the bright orange and the pink bars!!!! the way everything desaturates and becomes more sickly looking when she wakes up at the end!!!! its such a happy carefully curated and designed dream and then it drains away!!!! also god all her outfits are stunning. mahiru call me

the way she sings "overheat de~!" cutest thing in the WORLD.

the little faces she makes!!!! godddd shes so expressive

actually the whole songs so expressive!!!! shes putting her all into it!!!! her words have so much expression in them!!!! once more praising mahirus va the way her voice can soften and become bright or subtly desperate so quickly is MASTERFUL control of expression when singing and its so underrated. join me in being insane over miho okasaki delivers her lines. shes such a perfect mahiru.

funniest es cover. hands down. funniest es cover.

this is how to be in love with you is FREE serotonin!!!! free energy right there!!!! this is how to be in love with you sweep!!!!!

---

-The song is so cheerful!! I always feel like dancing and singing when this one comes up in my playlists!! Absolute banger, mood definer, kicking sadness in the shin with those high-heels and then hitting its face with a cute purse -THE HIGH-HEELS STEPPING TO THE BEAT OF THE MUSIC IN THAT ONE SCENE (0:50). SIMPLY ICONIC. NO ONE DID IT LIKE HER. -👠💅👝👗 -She is slaying. Look at her outfits. She put so much effort there. She gave it her all. Absolutely serving. -SUKITTE KIMOCHI WAKATTA TSUMORI? NARA KONO MAMA FUTARI O-VA-HI-TO- DE -The storyline of the mv MAKES SENSE and you can form a COHESIVE TIMELINE OF EVENTS (unlike other unspecified contestants' mvs you know 🙄) -look at herr 🥺 she beby 🥺 all she did was love too much 🥺 we all love mappi don't we 🥺 she deserved more let her win this pleease 🥺 -No medical malpractice happened in the making of this mv 👍

---

I care so much about This is How To Be In Love With You- it's visuals are brilliant in the ways it conveys its themes and narrative. I'm never normal Ever about the "Love as marketing" symbolism that is brought in by the use of magazines. It's a lovely upbeat song but the Horrors are Always Lurking under it, the breakup Ritual line is my Favorite Line cause its so horrifying but its said so casually and its so good oh its so good-

#milgram #milgramtournament #fuuta kajiyama #kajiyama fuuta #mahiru shiina #shiina mahiru

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literaila · 9 months

Note

HI! Would you want to write about tasm peter and a reader who is in a band?? I have realized on character ai that I can just tell characters that I'm in a band and I love to see their reaction. I just love the idea of being one of those cool people that play and sing

THANK YOU!!

singing

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: i know nothing about bands but i do know lots about singing in the shower

peter enjoys standing by the sink—pretending to brush his teeth—while you’re singing in the shower (even though you deny it every time he brings it up). he’ll run the water softly and take extra precautions over the health of his teeth. his dentist will be pleased.

he’s used to your voice. you sing everything.

you sing while you’re cleaning, or when you’re cooking dinner for the two of you. you’re always singing along to buzzing music when he meets you at your favorite coffee shop every thursday for lunch. you sing when putting your shoes on, and when dabbing at a fresh cut on his face.

you make up ridiculous songs about the things you’re doing, and laugh when peter walks in the room like you hadn’t noticed he was there. you change your voice and dance along and, honestly, peters not even sure if you’re aware you’re doing any of it.

he loves it all; if he knew as much music as you did, or was any less tone deaf, he would gladly sing along, and for once be apart of the sweet serenading rather than just flushing every time he knows you’re singing a song about him.

peter could listen to you and your voice and your silly little songs for days on end.

but he’s come to love you singing his name the most.

when you’re the first to wake up in the morning, and peter can feel you hum his name onto the skin of his cheek while you kiss him. when he comes home from a late night and you’re still awake, still happy to see him, and smile while you sing like he’s been away for longer than just a few hours.

when you’re messing with him, sing-songing peter just so he’ll frown at you. or when he interrupts you in the middle of your singing, his name becoming a slightly off pitch, slightly surprised exclamation.

if peter walks in the door and you’re not singing, then something is very wrong.

he’s listening to you now, adding toothpaste to his toothbrush for the second time. just to be safe.

when he hears the water turn off, he frowns and a dribble of minty spit falls from his mouth.

you startle when you open the shower door, eyes bright and skin glowing from the water. “peter,” you say—hum—soft and harsh. “why are you just standing there?”

peter mumbles something incoherent through his toothbrush.

you shake your head, but your lip twitches. “we talked about this. i’m tired of having to pick up new toothpaste every other week.”

peter grumbles.

“if you really miss me that much,” you tell him, purposefully bumping into him while you grab lotion from the cabinet, “you can just join me.”

peter spits and frowns. “you don’t sing when we shower together.”

he watches you glance at him from the corner of your eyes.

“i think you mean to say that i don’t sing in the shower ever, peter. it’s okay, we all get confused.”

“i’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes. i heard your rendition of it’s all coming back to me.”

you tilt your head at him, reaching a moisturized hand to touch his temple. “did you hit your head a bit too hard yesterday?”

peter laughs. “i don’t know why you’re so weird about it. i love it.”

“because you’re confused, peter. that’s why.”

“im confused,” he nods solemnly, “about why you continue to deny this.”

you sigh dramatically, turning back to the mirror and beginning to hum again—which peter might point out just proves his point, but he’s a bit too distracted to notice.

he could listen to your voice all day, or he could stare at you, like right now. watching your eyelashes brush your cheek and your smile reach the tip of your nose. he could just admire the slight glow of your skin under the light, or the amusement you’re trying to keep out of your eyes.

he could just wait for you to sing his name again.

“yes, peter?” you ask, after he’s been staring at you for thirty seconds too long.

“i was just wondering if i could join your band?”

your brows furrow inward and you laugh at him, subconsciously leaning your body towards him, and indiscreetly staring back at him in the mirror.

“i play a mean triangle.”

you wince. “ooh, yikes. we just hired a new triangle player. i’ll let you know how it works out.”

peter pretends to think for a moment. “it’s also been said that i’m pretty good with my mouth—“

you push him, laughing as he pushes you back. “that so?”

he nods.

“are you sure?” you ask, sounding doubtful. peters brows furrow at your tone.

he starts to say something but you cut him off. “you know,” you say, voice sly and soft. “we do have one position we need to fill.”

“what?”

“a new muse, of course.”

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domaystic · 1 year

Text

Domaystic 2023 is back!

link to bigger image: click here

[Image description: a blue clothes hanger with clips where socks are drying under the sun; among the socks the word domyastic is separated in three parts and hanged as well. On the right side: the list of 31 prompts and 5 alternatives.]

Hello! This is THE post for DOMAYSTIC 2023 :D

Domaystic is the combination of “domestic” and “May” and it's a prompt event run on May based on the domestic trope: anything inside, outside, beside the house or that has that normalcy flavor of everyday life.

If any of these prompts inspire your muse, please, don’t hesitate and join!

Text prompts

01 Housewarming 02 A stash of... 03 List 04 Packed lunch 05 Learning something new 06 Under the same umbrella 07 Stained clothes 08 The things in that drawer 09 Mistaken identity 10 Bath 11 Volunteering 12 Crisis 13 Taking turns 14 Parade 15 Junkmail 16 Sleeping habits 17 Marked date on calendar 18 Discount at favourite store 19 Police at the door 20 In the nearby park 21 Handmade gift 22 S/o on the local news 23 Small couch 24 Secret language 25 Misdialed calls 26 Sounds from above 27 Passage through a fence 28 Recycling 29 Lottery 30 Feeling of doing nothing 31 Midnight snack

Alternatives

A. No, no, don't lift it! B. There's a ... in the room! C. Stop the car, now! D. Look, I made it work! E. Oh, I can't wait to do it!

Text prompts in German: click here Text prompts in Spanish: click here Text prompts in Italian: click here Text prompts in French: click here

Lots of text under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

All fandoms or original content are welcome.

Any kind of media is welcome: fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, puzzles, diy art, quizzes, podfics, edits, fic recs or whatever it is you feel like doing. That’s all good.

No restrictions in ships, size, min/max word count or the language you want to write into.

As last year, feel free to mix the domestic prompt with anything you like: more drama and lots of crying? YES! The thrill of an investigation for the disappearance of your characters’ fave socks? YES!

There's one prompt for each day for a total of 31 prompts + 5 alternatives with an exclamation point at the end (predictable!).

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you share it on tumblr and tag the blog, I’ll reblog it.

Combine more prompts together? That’s fine but I will reblog the entry only once here on tumblr.

Combine these prompts with another event? Fine too.

You don’t have to do all the prompts to join the event. Do the ones you enjoy.

The event is consistently checked upon during the month of May, but in case you want to share your creation at a later date, you can. I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

As for the reblogs, last year I gave myself a bit of an headache, so this time I’d like to try it this way: once the day of the corresponding prompt comes, people will post their work and then I’ll reblog it when that day comes for me too. Does it make sense? I hope so. I’ll miss the world clocks but let’s just trust each other.

AO3 collection

The domaystic2023 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - all the info and prompts are also on the profile page of the collection.

In your tumblr post I ask you to:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2023

State clearly the fandom name or if it is original content

State clearly if it is sfw or nsfw

State clearly which prompt you used

In case of lengthy posts, use the “read more option”: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

Please, TAG PROPERLY. If there are any trigger warnings, I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

blablabla my story is beautiful, look @domaystic !

#domaystic2023 #day1 #[extraA - E if alternative prompt is used] #[fandom name or oc] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

If you have any question feel free to send an ask, inbox is always open. :D

Hi, @thebigbangblogproject can you reblog this?

#domaystic #domaystic2023 #post about the event #domestic trope #prompts #multifandom #prompt event #prompt list #fanfiction #fanart #edits #I hope all the essential infos are included ò_ò #edit of the 1:15pm NOPE I typed some link wrongly ... now everything should work ouch

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red-riding-wood · 2 months

Note

I’m so sorry about what happened to you and so many others. Disgusting misogynistic behavior. You all deserve so much better ):.

Also sending this bc I do believe he has made two new accounts. Drcranessweetestdoe and monsterfromthewoods. I have no proof these are him ,but it just strikes an absurd resemblance to his writing and he seemed to interact with both of them a few weeks ago. The first one hasn’t blogged in weeks either. Just seems strange. Once again though, I could be wrong. Just something for everyone to stay weary about. Stay safe ❤️

Thank you for the well wishes, anon! I really do appreciate you reaching out. <3

From my conversations with @drcranessweetestdoe, she does not behave like Kill (nor does her writing style compare to his), and I am pretty positive he is incapable (or at least very bad) at taking on different personalities since I believe I witnessed his attempt with the second account you mentioned. Aurora is very sweet, and she used to be a fan of Kill's writing and mine. I don't want people to be suspecting her of foul play because I do believe she is genuine. Kill has a pattern of reblogging fics as a way of seeing what victims he can latch onto and I see that as a coincidence with his reblog of Monster's.

As for @monsterfromthewoods... I was hesitant to make a callout, mainly because no one has actual solid proof that he is Kill. But, there is too much evidence for me to ignore, and I wanted to give my honest opinion and observations. Monster, if you are not this person, feel free to reach out and vouch for yourself, and if I am wrong, I am deeply sorry.

Fuck that. As I was typing this message up, I decided to check my DMs and noticed that my friend had said that he gave her the same name that, as of this morning, was revealed to me as his actual name along with his real picture and Facebook profile. That really sealed the deal for me. Here is the rest of my evidence to prove that this is "Kill":

Monster followed my friend around the same time that she blocked Kill.

Monster followed me the same day that I sent Kill a confrontational message, calling him out for his lies and pleading with him one last time for medical treatment and answers.

From the posts on Monster's account, and the one comment I know he made on my friend's post, his personality exactly fits Kill's. This is why I said I do not think he is capable or likely to be able to craft a believable persona.

Monster made a post about suicide, and a pro-Palestine post, the former of which Kill discussed with me a lot and the latter my friend pointed out as suspicious since Kill was also very strongly pro-Palestine. Seeing as Monster doesn't have that many posts yet on his blog, this isn't irrefutable evidence but it is very coincidental.

Lastly, I actually did my best to analyse and compare Kill and Monster's writing, since I had recalled a few things that stuck out to me when I read Kill's writing. Him and Monster share many similarities with their writing habits/consistencies. They are as follows (the examples listed are from 18+ content so please do not view if you are a minor):

Use periods and exclamation marks -- but never commas -- as punctuation to end dialogue tags.

Starter dialogue tag always facing outward. Like: ”So... Tight”

Tend to each use a snapshot style of writing, favouring incomplete sentences with frequent use of periods. Examples: K: "His mind, usually so sharp. Focused and organized like the most expensive machines. A killing machine, that worked in perpetual motion, living off killing, adrenaline used like a drug." M: "Your dear, understanding doctor. Doctor Jonathan Crane, who laughed out loud suddenly a couple moments ago. The dark colour covering his exotic looking eyes as he revealed his real nature to you."

Similarly, they both tend to avoid using possessive pronouns and determiners. Examples: K: "_ Pale, little pussy peaked from between her thighs." M: "The scars covering _ man's pale skin," _ = absence of "her, that, the," etc.

Often use adverbs after verbs in a way that feels out of place.

Capitalise after ellipses, always.

"Y/n" always has a lowercase "n".

Sometimes use three ellipses, often use only two.

Use "pants" but never "trousers".

Yeah, so, I may have spent way too much time on this. And I think most of this is redundant, now, especially after the name revelation, but still, I put work into it and didn't want it to go to complete waste lmao. I also had no idea until I was tagged today that apparently there are programs that do this sort of thing for you. Oops.

#asks #mrkdvidal1989 #worst con man I've ever seen

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honeybee2807 · 1 month

Text

When I first read Cursed Child at 12, at the time, I was aspiring to be a psychologist and was researching a lot on depression and anxiety(especially for kids and teens since I wanted to help them the most). When I read Albus' character, I kept seeing many signs of him being depressed. The way he seemed to neglect himself(there was a line that described his face as sallow[which is a word used to show unhealthiness and self neglect]), his bouts of anger and lashing out, and his general upset and low self esteem. And since bullying and family issues were top reasons for a child to be suicidal, I was convinced.

Now I'm realising that he's more likely of a candidate for a personality disorder(cough... bipolar ...cough). I admit, I'm not as well-versed in personality disorders(so feel free to point out if I'm wrong).

I remember the first time I read CC, I was a bit confused at Albus' sudden mood changes which I deemed to be unrealistic. A classic example was during his third year. He fought with his dad and got angry to the point that he burnt his hogsmede permission form and had a rant, but the moment he saw Scorpius, he instantly went all cheery and exclamation marks??? Normally it takes a while for someone to calm down from a fight and it would be fine if Albus was relieved or just slightly happy. But he went full on exclamation marks and he def wasn't angry at Scorpius.

But that didn't convince me that something could be wrong. The fact that did was the whole time travel plot. Albus read to me as downright cheerful and his insane plot to travel time couldn't even be discouraged by his bestie who claimed multiple times that this was a bad idea and Albus lost his mind. It was like a switch had flipped and he was opposite. Albus was still Albus sure but he acted different than what was told to us. Of course that could be also because he wasn't in Hogwarts which was a major cause of his distress.

But here me out. Once Rose and Hugo got deleted out of existence, it would be a sensible thing to realise that time travel is not a good idea. Scorpius certainly realised it(tho he was skeptical from the start). But Albus didn't and decided that it was a good idea to try again. Either he was a complete idiot or delusional. Then he gave a monologue how losers have powers and abilities(err wot???) and managed to convince Scorpius to try again.

Albus finally seems to come to his senses afterwards(thank god!).

I was incredibly confused for years. Then I read this fanfic where Albus was portrayed as bipolar and then it clicked. All of Albus' overly cheerful behavior and crazy ideas could be described as manic. And I don't think really need to explain the depression part to y'all.

Again, I could be wrong. I'm extremely sorry if I misunderstood bipolar disorder and mixed it up. But yeah, that was my interpretation.

#hpcc #albus severus potter #harry potter and the cursed child #cursed child #albus potter #the cursed child #ccsquad #hp next gen #tw depression #bipolar disorder #tw bipolar #personality disorder

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rainnotliam · 1 year

Note

Is it possible to make a yandare arven but kinda fluffy? Sometimes I wish the main character/reader can accept the yandare-ness (especially arven cause he been through a lot) idk so fluffy yandare arven please? 🥺

Yandere Arven, but fluff fic? Challenge accepted my friend!

Reader x Arven, of course . Slight possessive behavior, but much fluff and cuddles too!

You scrolled through your Rotom phone, absolutely tired from today. As nice as it was to have Battle Studies, the amount of training one had to go through to satisfy Dendra was energy draining. The only thing that made it really worth it was the amount of Experience Points that could level up any team easily.

Luckily, this period was language. Mr. Salvatore had mercy on class (no pun intended) and let a little of free time before class. So you decided it would be best to see what kinds of battle items would help your team in the Ace tournament.

“Leftovers would be good… but perhaps the Lucky Egg could level my team up faster?”

You questioned your decisions, torn between power or levels.

“Or maybe-”

Suddenly, there is a rush of footsteps, before your vision is covered. You drop your Rotom phone in surprise, the device landing with a loud CLACK! on your desk.

“Who is it?”

An energetic tone emitted from the question. You chuckle to yourself, before putting your own hands over the large warm ones.

“Hmm… I don’t know? Who’s very good at cooking, the soon-to-be famous chef?” You smile.

“I wonder?” The voice had a hint of amusement too.

“Arven, eres bien canijo!”

A giggle escaped your upperclassman’s mouth, as he uncovered his hands from your eyes. Arven bent down to hug you from your sitting position, burying his face into your neck.

“We’re best buds, of course you know who I am!”

“Why wouldn’t I? Arven, your voice is so soft just like that caring soul. Plus, those hands are rough from all that adventuring,” you tease lightly.

There was definitely a smile going on, because you could feel his lips curving upwards.

“I shouldn’t expect any less, that’s coming from a Champion,” Arven said. He looked up from his position, now resting his chin on your shoulder. “Que estás viendo?”

“Battle items. The Ace tournament is a lot harder, Nemona’s been training hard.”

Arven hummed, one of his hands traveling up to your hair. He ruffled it slightly, fingers gently caressing the strands.

“She’s not empujando te to do something, is she?” He asked.

Your stomach felt like jittery jello hearing those few words. Nemona had asked you to train with her but…

“No, of course not! She may be eager and happy someone is her rival, but it doesn’t mean she goes to those lengths! It’s nothing to worry about,” you manage to muster.

Arven pondered about the answer for a minute or two, before taking himself off you.

“Well, class is starting. Gotta go to my seat, see you later bud!”

He waves at you with a happy aura painting him. You smile to yourself: Arven reminded you of a joyful puppy.

A puppy that hadn’t seen light in a decade or so, ever since Turo died. Ever since Mabosstiff got injured.

You didn’t mind the way he held you especially close. After all, he had suffered through so much, the least you could do was stay by his side… right?

Well, that joy only lasted for so long. You froze as you heard the seat right beside you creak, someone sitting in it. They placed their items near yours, giving you a slightly warm smile.

Your eyes went wide, before frantically shaking your head, hoping they would take the hint. Thankfully for your classmate, Mr. Salvatore walked in.

You tuned out the usual greeting from him, responding with a slightly grim “Oui.”

Class seemed to take ages, replaced by the shakiness of your body. Even though Pikachu was here as well, the Pokémon’s usual cheerful “Pika!” exclamations.

Hopefully this person would ignore you and take the hint you didn’t want anything to do with them. That you wanted them to get away as soon as possible, never approach you once again. The thought of what would happen…

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

That can’t happen.

Before you knew it, the bell rang. Mr. Salvatore audibly gaped at the bell, before shaking his head. He muttered a few things, before baring them a slightly cheerful “Adieu!”

You quickly tried to gather your items, fear settling into your stomach. The least that could happen was a minor injury but even so…

“Y/N! Hey, you got any plans?”

Arceus. This couldn’t have gone any better could it?

“Um, I guess not?” Your breath was shaky, but you managed to pull the simple response together.

“Wanna train with me and my group? We really admire you, and would like-”

A flinch was forced from your natural instinct, as a hand planted firmly across your shoulder. You could feel a menacing aura behind you, and inhaled deeply.

“Sorry. They have plans with me already.”

Arven’s usual gentle voice, forced a deeper tone. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet knew they were already forming to slits. The usual calm gleam was storming in his eyes.

“Y/N, is that true?”

You knew better by now than to deny any lies, because they were going to be true.

“Well yeah, me and Arven planned on going out for a while, going for ice cream.”

“Ooo! Can I go with you?”

“Absolutely not,” Arven piped up.

You and your classmate look at Arven in wide eyes. He had never spoken up in conversations, other than holding a protective hand over you.

“What’s it to you?”

“It’s a date. And by the way, we’re not including you for a threesome,” Arven rolled his eyes.

“Then how come I’ve never seen you with them? Prove it right here and right now,” your classmate insisted.

“What do I need to prove? You don’t believe me?” Arven asked.

“Prove that you’re dating. No way PokeNews would not announce something like that, mentiroso.”

Confusion filled your mind. How was your upperclassman going to prove that? It wasn’t easy to convince someone that you’re dating the Champion, currently No.1 in the region-

“So what? You really don’t believe me? I’m not lying, te estoy diciendo la verdad, en Arceus.”

Why did it seem like Arven was toying around with their classmate?

“On Arceus? Pshhh, por favor.”

You looked up, only to see a slightly smiling Arven, who turned his gaze at you. You felt a hand suddenly grab your chin, firmly holding it, before tipping it slightly upwards.

He slightly moved forward a few inches.

“Allow me, to ‘prove’ this then?”

“You’re joking, there’s no way!”

You felt your face heat up within each movement, his face closing in on yours.

Wait, was he-?

There was an audible gasp from your classmate, and the rest of the class, who watched intensely. The Champion… with the Professor’s son?

Warm lips pressed against your cold ones, the heat transferring with ease. You faintly heard Arven murmur something, but couldn’t decipher what it was at that moment. His left hand was still on your shoulder, right one gently caressing your hair from earlier in class.

Something within you coiled tightly with embarrassment, as his tongue -wet and hot - pushed through your sweet lips, and right into your mouth.

There was no doubt a brilliant red blush was spreading from the bridge of your nose to the tip of your ears.

Arven’s tongue with no doubt was dominant enough, as you weren’t quite experienced enough with kissing. His saliva dripped from the files of tastebuds, the maneuver made with so much care. Arven clearly needed more of you to savor, yet gently explored your mouth for flavor.

As for his taste?

God, you couldn’t get enough from the spicy remnants of the Tomato berries he usually cooks with. You could remember seeing him, sitting on his bed, watching with wide eyes as he bit straight into one, juice slightly spilling to the sides of his mouth.

(“It‘s about the way you handle an extreme flavor,” Arven said.

“Handling in it that way?” You asked skeptically. “No way, a death sentence for me.”

Your upperclassman grinned at you. “Wanna try it out? I’m pretty good at least giving love to some.”

You ponder for a moment, before embarrassment fills your stomach. The realization hit you like a bat to a ball, stupidly.

“Don’t even! I would never give that a try!”)

You denied ever wanting to kiss him just for handling a flavor…

Yet here you are.

Absolutely a hypocrite wanting more, wanting to know where that hand sliding down your back was going, wanting to give the same treatment to Arven. After all, he hasn’t been loved in so long…

“Oí!”

Arven broke the kiss off, looking into the direction where the exclamation was made me.

And boy was it embarrassing, as you turned too.

“I know we sometimes want to show affection to others,” Mr. Salvatore looked very flushed at the sight of the scene, “-but please… keep it calm for the sake of your classmates eyes.”

You were sure your face was now ruby red by now, if not, caused by the heat of the kiss too.

Arven didn’t seem too bashed by this, but his cheeks were flustered pink too. “Yes, Mr. Salvatore,” he said.

“Now… I can safely say, the school day is over. Take a break my students…” Salvatore trailed off. He beckoned for you and Arven to leave immediately, obviously trying very hard not to say anything else. It was the first time he hadn’t used his various languages.

You bowed your head, face feeling as though it were on fire. Arven had just…

Just casually kissed you on the mouth? What was his logic in needing to prove something? Couldn’t you both have just pulled out a photo taken together?

Arven’s grip was still firmly in place on your shoulder. He looked back at their shocked classmates, and waved with a flashy smile.

“Is that all you needed Hirano? Not much to ask for, as Y/N is my partner after all.”

All Hirano could do was look at you with a dumb expression, mouth opening and closing like a Magikarp.

“But they didn’t-? How are you both dating?”

Arven frowned at this, reaching for your hand, grabbing it. He pulls you right against him, before leading you out of class.

Your mind can’t help but process a dozen explanations why Arven kissed you. It definitely wasn’t accidental: he was very intimate in the way he handled it. He couldn’t really be in love with you…

Right?

“Llamando me un mentiroso… cabrones van a pagar después.”

Arven murmured phrases like these as you both went up the staircase. Definitivamente no estuvo bien feliz.

“A-Arven?”

“They have the nerve to even talk to me like that, even after all that I’ve been through with their shit!”

“Arven?” You asked a little more loudly.

“Not to mention, treating you like some sort of prize… they don’t see your real beauty and personality!”

“-Arven?”

“What!?”

You recoiled at the response, as though he had hit you. Arven NEVER snapped at you, even when he was absolutely livid at someone.

“…”

He looked at you for a few moments, before realizing what he had just done.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine…” you murmured.

“It’s not fine.”

It was a moment before you realized you were in front of Arven’s dorm.

“Why are we here?” You interrupted the numerous mutters of apologizes.

“Que? Supongo que yo quise…”

The blush from earlier was turning a Tomato berry shade. Arven fidgeted with his backpack strap, before sighing.

“He made me jealous, alright? You’re just my little buddy Y/N, and you know I don’t like it when people get so close to you…”

“-Because you’re afraid to lose me to someone else?”

He blinked. “How did you guess? Como adivinaste?”

You decided not to point out the bunch of obvious points. Arven was adorable trying to communicate his feelings, yet delaying a confession about it because of his actions.

Not to mention, his obsession.

“Penny told me that too, since the jerks who bullied her told her she wasn’t worth it for my friendship.”

“…”

Arven didn’t say anything: he had a strange faraway look on his face. You look at him with curiosity, wondering what he was thinking.

“Well, that’s not the point here.”

“Then what is? You told me you brung me here for a reason, que es?”

“-ddle.”

“Huh?”

Your upperclassman inhaled deeply, exhaling softly. He turned away, looking at the floor.

“I want… to cuddle.”

What in Arceus!?

Arven wanted to cuddle? Did you hear correctly?

“Cuddle? As in, a sort of thing you’d do with Mabosstiff?” you asked.

There was a soft sigh. Arven didn’t wait for a reply, merely opening the door to his dorm. He beckoned for you to get inside, and you stepped in.

Of course this dorm was familiar. You had been here many times, swayed by the delicious aroma of cooking, awed by how much yellow there was, inquisitive about all the items Arven had. Especially that raincoat he had. If it weren’t obvious enough from the weather, Arven loved going out and playing in the rain with Mabosstiff.

There was a soft click! as the door closed. You took off your small backpack and set it down near the coat hanger, along with your shoes. Arven did the same, only picking up your bag to actually hang it. It was a small gesture, but certainly a kind one.

He took off his puffy jacket as well (on the coat hanger it went), only to throw his tie across the room with mere care.

“A lot hasn’t changed.”

“Except Poké Beans I got for a deal while there was an auction.”

You went over to Arven’s bed, only slightly turning a corner the wall had, containing the entrance for the bathroom.

“Even the bedsheets are the same.”

“I’m surprised que te lo memorizaste,” Arven lightly teased.

“Cállate.”

You flopped onto the bed, mainly stretching your legs, and keeping your arms tucked into your chest. After all, it was slightly cold in Arven’s dorm. He probably had the best air conditioning room in the academy.

“No Burmy talk here.”

Footsteps approached the bed, and you close your eyes as Arven’s hand runs through your hair. Arceus did it feel satisfying after a hard day at school… and all the worries that had filled your brain.

You had never mentioned Arven’s obsession with you. At first, you assumed it was because you became Champion. After all, who doesn’t like a little fame from their companion?

But you had noticed the intimate actions he took. For example, hugs completely out of nowhere, possessive behavior that drove you insane, and even a protective hand over your shoulder when someone suggested you go with them.

Without your upperclassman.

Still, he had sometimes pushed himself away for no reason, but then came back begging for attention.

What did he really want? Not to mention, merely minutes ago, he had just asked to cuddle?

“Arven?”

Arven hummed, implying to go on. The way he ruffled your hair so gently… you shook your head, trying not to sleep.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re you being so… close? First, you kiss me to prove a point. A worthless one. Then, you tell me… you want to cuddle…”

Your face flushed at the last phrase, and you covered your face with your hands.

Silence stretched throughout the room, as the only thing you could hear was the light buzzing sound of the air conditioning. Arven stopped ruffling your hair, hand completely motionless.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“How come?” You quipped.

Almost immediately, you wished you didn’t say those words. Arven’s hand started shaking, before it pulled away.

“I said, you wouldn’t understand Y/N. You’re so naive,” he whispered.

You lifted yourself up, looking at him. Arven was looking directly at you, his mouth trembling.

“Arven, please-”

“You don’t understand!” He suddenly yelled.

“What don’t I understand!?” You said with frustration.

“Anything about me! You don’t understand shit about me! Nor do you really care about my feelings! I know you don’t but you really pretend you do, and I hate it so much! I hate it that you don’t love me the way you do!”

You stared in disbelief at this declaration of the outburst. None of that was true! Nada fue la verdad!

“Arven, por favor!”

“I love you so much goddammit, you’re so willing to be able to care for me, so willing to hear about my problems, the light to my dark when I was lost!”

“And I know you know that I have these feelings for you! I just wish you would tell me, I’m so sick of having to show how much I care for you back! I know what’s best for you!”

“ARVEN, LISTEN TO ME!” You finally raised your voice.

He paused for a moment, his breathing hitched.

“What you’re saying isn’t true at all! I love you too, you make me feel like I’m such an important person to someone!“

You looked down at the yellow sheets, hand picking at them. Why… why do you feel like this?

Aren’t you supposed to be feeling happy and giddy telling Arven you love him? Aren’t you supposed to be over the moon knowing he’d go to any lengths for you? Then why do you have this unsettling feeling deep down?

Is this the same fear that took you over…

After that one day where he bashed Hirano’s friends skull repeatedly against the wall, until he fainted? All because of planting his hand on your shoulder?

“Y/N?”

“Do you really mean it?”

How could you?

You couldn’t reject his now said out loud declaration of love. That would be such a cruel thing to do. Arven never had love because of his family- only some for Mabosstiff, because it was his partner Pokémon.

“I-I do…!”

“…”

“Me too. I love you, I love you so much.”

“About your cuddles?” You were keen to change the love tone-

The only response you received was Arven finally swinging up his legs onto the bed, snuggling up to you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other freely going up to caress your hair once more. He curled one leg over yours, making sure to tighten his grip.

“You’re so perfect,” he muttered.

You said nothing. Your hand reached to touch his (the one on your waist), intertwining fingers slightly.

“You deserve all the love.”

Arven nuzzled his head into your neck, his curly hair lightly tickling your ear. His hot breath spread over your body, warming you right up.

At that moment, all you could really do was go to sleep with him, drifting off with the warmth of his body right next to yours.

In the morning however, you wouldn’t be so lucky. Arven didn’t like to wake up early, and you had to stay in the cuddling position for at least two more hours.

If you ever moved, he was yank you right back into the embrace. Arven would murmur phrases in Spanish, telling you how much he wanted to do this.

How could you refuse?

Arven ached for love after all these years.

#pokémon scarvio #pokemon arven #arven x reader #arven is adorable #yandere arven #fluff #will continue #just let me eat #possessive behavior #answered asks #asks answered #short one shot #cuddling #pokemon salvatore

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

bad decisions - jjk | thirteen

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away. Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch." He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know. It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care—he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. 'Oh, the girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.'

Bad Decision #13 - Work of Art

warnings: jungkook discovers boobs! we rejoice! wahooo!! okay so this entire chapter is basically titty worship (no titty sucking (sad)). lots of paint. curious art. shower (again) mutual masturbation (for realsies this time) jaykay aka my dream man. the chess plot device is born! the mirror kink is also born! WE THRIVE!!

soundtrack: vibez- zayn

wc: 11.8k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

"Why did you write it like that?"

"Like what?" you say, coming to sit beside Jungkook at a pair of easels towards the back of the room. The last few tasks were carried out by the pair of you, Jungkook insisting on helping despite the fact he had no clue really what to do. You'd ended up asking him to move a couple of boxes you couldn't reach just to appease his need to lend a hand.

He looks at your bird once more, and holds it open for you to read again. You knock your head to the side and shrug.

"Guess it's just how I feel about it."

"Like screaming?"

"Kind of," you laugh. It's written in just the same way as the last one - full capital letters, zero context, and more exclamation points than any one person should use. "I guess it's like... a big one for me?"

"How big are we talking?" Jungkook asks as he looks at it again. It's just a single word, but he knows there's more to it than meets the eye. There always is with you.

You pull one of your feet up to the chair and wrap your arms around your knee. The apron you'd been wearing earlier is up on a hook, and Jungkook finds the simplicity of your outfit all very intriguing. You're monochromatic, which isn't much of a surprise, in a large white shirt and black slacks. The caps of your hightops peek out from the hem of your trousers, and a satin scrunchie is around your wrist instead of in your hair.

You're lacking a little sparkle. There's still some across your lashline, and little specks on your skin that your makeup remover hadn't managed to get, but what with the paint and the two showers you've had since the paint party, there's really not all that much left.

He wonders if there's any glitter glue in the art supplies. Thinks you should just use that instead. You're really not quite yourself without it.

"My ex was a tittie guy," you say, and Jungkook's eyes widen as if he'd forgotten the topic of conversation. You laugh. "Is it really that much of a surprise? Ass guys are hardly gonna go for me."

"Your ass is fine," Jungkook says. He means it as a compliment, but realises 'fine' isn't the way to ever really describe a woman's assets—and so he corrects himself. "Good, I mean. Your ass is good."

There's a look of disgust on your face as you question why on earth he's been looking at your ass, which causes him to roll his eyes. There really is no winning with you.

"I'm an ass guy," he shrugs.

"Doesn't give you any right to look at it."

"Oh give over," he laughs. "It's literally just a body part. No different to me looking at, I don't know... your wrist. Something like that."

"Well, it depends," you argue back. "Are you into wrists?"

Regretfully, the answer is yes.

"I don't know!" Jungkook protests when you grill him for how the fuck he can be 'into' wrists. "They're just dainty! And pretty! I don't know! It's not my fault."

You narrow your eyes, and hide your exposed wrist behind your knee. He looks at you with a poorly hidden smile, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His lip ring always dances along his peachy bottom lip when he does so, and it makes you laugh - but you're still feigning disgust.

In all honestly, you like your wrists. Would put them in your top five for your physical attributes. Completely understand why he would be into wrists, just like you're into forearms. You like arms that feel safe.

Kind of like his.

But still, he's an ass guy.

"See, this is why you and I would never work," you tell him, and nod to the piece of paper he's still holding, adorned with a singular scribble:

!!!!! TITS !!!!!

"We want different things," you clarify. "You're after a good ass, I'm after a guy who knows how to handle a pair of tits."

"Hey! That's not fair. I never said I didn't know how to handle them," he scoffs - although now he comes to think about it, he's not sure he actually does. "Like, sure, maybe my exes have all had great asses, but they all had a pair of tits, too. I'm not opposed to a pair of tits."

"Yeah, but there's a pair of tits, and a pair of tits, yanno?" You say, using your hands to really emphasise the point. "Anyway my ex really liked them."

"So?"

"So, I really liked that he really liked them," you shrug. It's painfully obvious to you, but Jungkook is still a little confused. "I just... The idea of someone else doing what he did to them just... makes me wanna run, yanno?"

"The fuck did he do them?" Jungkook laughs.

"Nothing obscene," you smile, though when you think about it, perhaps 'obscene' is the only way to describe how much he enjoyed them. "I guess it's more so that it was always a part of sex? Most guys I've been with pick and choose whenever they want to deal with them, but with him..."

You don't mean to trail off, but fuck. You're thinking about Seokjin, how his plump lips would trail down your throat. He'd inhale the scent of your perfume and fucking whine, only stopping to latch himself to your nipples. Would spend more time on your tits than he would any other part of your body. Spent so long once that he made you orgasm from the simulation of it all alone.

And so now they're off limits. It doesn't matter who it is. The second someone reaches for your bra, you shake your head, reposition their hands, and pretend you hate your tits being touched. It's not like it's an unreasonable lie. You know it's one of Danbi's least favourite forms of foreplay. If anything, she'd be a good match for Jungkook. In fact, now you come to think about it, she's got a cracking ass from all of her dog-walking.

Maybe you should cool the deal off. It's highly likely they're compatible. Fucking around with Jungkook would only complicate things in the future if they discovered that themselves - but you know Taehyung's interested in her, and Jungkook hasn't given any indication of interest further than friendship with her.

It's not like this is anything beyond friendship, you reason with yourself.

Jungkook stays quiet as you work through your thought process. Assumes you're skimming through traumatic memories. Doesn't realise you're actually playing matchmaker in your head for him and your best friend.

"But with him?" He asks.

You're drawn from your thoughts. Feel a little guilty. Wonder if you should really be doing this - not for your sake, but for his.

"Are you sure about this?" You ask, ignoring his question entirely.

"About?"

"Doing my birds?"

He purses his lips - and now he feels guilty, too. Funny, how you're both more concerned about one another than yourselves.

"It's entirely your choice," he says. Doesn't want you to feel pressured into it - but it just makes you feel like he feels pressured into it.

"No, but, that just feels to me as if you don't want to," you tell him. "And like, that's totally fine, if you don't, but-"

"Byeol," he says all rather plainly. "I'm the one who suggested it. If I didn't want to I wouldn't be here right now, would I? I sought you out. I came here. This is all on me."

The worry on your features softens, and he's pleased to see you smile again no matter how subtle it may be.

"Only thing I will say is that I don't actually know what 'exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, tits, excla'"—

"Kook, you don't have to say every single exclamation point."

"Right," he nods. "Well, that. I don't know what that exactly entails."

And truth be told, nor do you. So you just sigh. Press your lips together a little tighter than usual. Think about it for a moment. Draw a blank. Furrow your brows.

Jungkook looks just as perplexed as you. He's looking away, trying to find inspiration in the room around him—and when his eyes land on the 'gallery' wall where there are imitations of famous works, an idea comes to mind.

"So this is all about separating physical acts from emotional intimacy, right?" He says, and when you nod, he continues. "So what if we do something that involves"— he laughs, because he's a child. —"Touching your tits"—

"Real mature."

"Shut up. We'll do something that involves touching your tits," he has to pause so that he doesn't laugh, but you're grinning too. Just as immature as he is. "But something that isn't sexual at all."

"Alright," you muse. "I'm listening."

"You got any black paint?"

You narrow your eyes. Turn your nose up a little. Question if he's lost all of his brain cells. "Jungkook, this is an art cafe."

"I didn't wanna just assume," he feigns offence. "Are there security cameras in this place?"

"Only by the front entrance. None into the studio area."

"Okay, good. Go get some black paint and I'll get the blinds."

"No blinds," you say, nodding over the windows. "Chiffon curtains. If we turn the main lights off and just keep the lamps on, it should all be obscured. Let's just... not be too close to the windows—and what's the paint for?"

"Will tell you in a bit," he says as he heads to the windows. "Chop, chop, Byeol. We've got a fear to overcome."

You stay as you are for a moment, watching him with unrivalled wonder. There's an enigmatic energy to him that makes it seem as if he's the one constantly covered in glitter, not you. It's quite alarming that this is Jungkook operating at half capacity. His confidence was knocked quite considerably after his heart was broken, and he's yet to recover. You know this. Know that's what his birds are all about. Know that once you've worked through them with him, he'll be an unstoppable force of nature.

In the time you've known him, he's been nothing but an angel. Cocky? Yes. A little petulant? Make that incredibly petulant. And yet he's a joy to be around. Shines without the need for artificial sparkles. You envy it. Wish you could emulate it.

It's as you're getting the paint, and a few extra supplies that you'll figure you'll need - some brushes, some washcloths - that Jungkook begins to explain himself. He's drawing the curtains shut, glancing over at you every few words just to check you're paying attention.

"So I saw a video the other day - something to do with easy Halloween crafts, don't ask - and there are two options for you. One of them is quite literally painting your tits and pressing it against a canvas"—

"You are not painting my tits."

"Noted. The other one was way more family-friendly," he says, before he mulls it over and changes his mind. "Kinda. Maybe. It's a skeleton hand shirt."

"Okay..."

"It's super simple, one person covers their hands in paint and basically just grabs the other persons tits"—

"Does that mean I can grab yours too?"

"I don't have tits, I have incredibly defined pecks," he states rather sharply. "Please rephrase the question, Byeol."

You just grin. "Can I grab your tits?"

"No."

"Boring."

"Look," he smiles as he walks over to the easels where you'd been sat before. He turns the chair and sits on it backwards, arms resting over the back of it. There's a casualness to the way in which he carries himself. One that you quite enjoy. "This is a quick, easy and totally platonic way for you to have your tits touched, and it not be sexual at all."

"It'll just ruin my shirt."

"Or not," he says as he nods up to the wall where canvas sizes are displayed. There's also a plain tote bag and white tee pinned to the wall, still up from a promotion put on during the back-to-school season. It had been Hoseok's job to take them down, but he'd just broken up with his girlfriend at the time and had spent the entire week face down in the back room - getting him to do anything had been impossible - and so they remain as they were. "Would your boss notice if one went missing?"

You shake your head. Your boss really has no clue about the day-to-day goings on.

Still, you're hesitant. "If I get fired"—

"Then I'll fire Yeonjun and you can have his job," Jungkook bullshits. If he was gonna fire anyone, Yeonjun would be the last to go. "C'mon, you gotta stop stressing the small stuff, Byeol."

You're making excuses. You know you are, and so does he.

"Can we at least do it at your place?" You ask. It feels rude to invite yourself to his apartment, but it's honestly probably where you feel most comfortable. It's where the birds are, and it feels like a sanctuary for your fears. When done in the confines of his room, you're able to shut them away and never think about them again - at least not until you return.

Jungkook thinks it over. He's got no problem with it, just isn't sure if Jimin is in. He tells you as such and is met with a shrug.

"If he's in, he's in," you say. "We can just say we're working on planning an event for Tae's exhibition, say that I'm using you for cheap labour."

"Oh shit yeah," Jungkook gasps, suddenly reminded of the fact Taehyung had been here with a purpose. "How did it go? You think your boss will approve."

You nod. "Don't see why not. It's a solid pitch and we haven't held an exhibition in a while. I have some contacts saved up from our last couple of shows so can get together a guest list for the opening night."

It's more than Taehyung would have hoped for. The painting cafe is unassuming, in a way, which makes it a great underdog location for hosting such events.

"Sorry to have sent him here without warning," Jungkook adds. "I wasn't even sure if you did things like that."

"Not often," you admit. "I really enjoy them, though. I'm always keen for more."

The pair of you gather up your things and head back to Jungkook's place, talking about his friends, and their careers. You learn Taehyung is an artist by night, but a teaching assistant by day, which makes his love for arts and crafts all the more sweeter, you decide. Jimin works at a local interior design firm, which suddenly makes so much sense considering the books you remember being on his desk when you were bent over it.

Namjoon works at the local off-branch of the national paper, with a focus on environmental reporting, which is how he'd met Yoongi, who works as a sustainable carpenter, specialising in local woods and materials. Running his own studio, Mins, he'd done a promotional interview a few years back around the time it opened, and had then introduced Namjoon to the rest of the boys.

Their friendships run deep, and it's nice that Jungkook is so willing to share that part of his life with you. The way he sees it, you're well on your way to becoming a part of the group, too.

When you arrive at Jungkook's place, he enters first.

The shower is running, loud enough to obscure any noise of his arrival, so he ushers you in and straight to his room. The sneaking around is getting a little old already, but he figures soon enough it will be commonplace for you to hang out with the both of them.

Jimin isn't naive to your friendship, he just isn't aware quite how friendly you've become.

And so you keep your voices down, even when the pair of you are trying your hardest not to laugh, hands covered in paint, neither of you wanting to be the one who goes first. He's in a black shirt, so your hands are covered in white paint. You're in white, so his hands are coated in a layer of black paint instead.

It's stupid and it's juvenile, but also incredibly sweet. You appreciate how much Jungkook tries to ease you into things. Baby steps.

"No, no," you whisper. "I'll go first. On you. Easier that way."

He knows it will make it no more difficult nor easy no matter who goes when, but he understands what you're saying. It will make you feel more comfortable. Of course, he obliges.

"Stand behind me," he says quietly. "Can you see in the mirror?"

"Not really," you say. His back is broad and he's obviously far taller than you, which pretty much obscures the entire mirror. If you lean around, you can see part of it, but it makes it harder for your to get an equal placement on his chest.

"Okay, just stand straight. I'll guide you."

The way he knocks your hands into position, mostly because his are also covered in paint, is just as gentle as the tone of his voice is.

"Three, two, one," he counts down. "Now press."

You do as you're told and are confronted with potentially the firmest pecks you've ever laid your hands upon. Sure, Seokjin had a body built like a God, but Jungkook? Jesus Christ. He must be something entirely... unhuman.

"Anddd pull away," he whispers. The shirt sticks a little bit, but as your hands peel off, Jungkook smirks. "Your hands are so small."

You take great offence to this for absolutely no reason other than to bicker with him. "Says you!"

"Sorry?"

"You don't exactly have massive hands," you goad him, seeing if you can get a rise out of him, and as if by magic—

"Turn the fuck around, Byeol," he says, almost forgetting the volume control. You do as you're told, grinning like the smug little bitch you are. "Don't have massive hands? I swear you say shit just to piss me off."

"Who me?" You feign innocence. "Never."

"Yes, you," he laughs, but he makes no attempt to reciprocate the shirt creation. Instead, he holds back. Wants to make sure you're okay with it. You tell him you are, but he still doubles down on confirmation. "If it's too much at any point, just say."

You nod. Wonder if he can see the beat of your heart running through your veins. He can't. But he can see your eyes in the mirror, and recognise the trepidation they're drowning in.

"You ready?"

And again, you nod. Exhale. "Ready."

He's tentative in his approach, palms wide, fingers outstretched. He lets his palms rest on the sides of your chest first. You stop breathing for a moment.

"You okay?" He checks, to which you nod. "Okay, Byeol. We're going at your pace. The second it's too much, you let me know, okay?"

He waits for your go-ahead, and then lets his fingers squeeze into the softness of your chest. He sort of assumed he'd eclipse them like he always has done with his former partners, but he doesn't quite manage it with you. It takes him by surprise. Stops him in his tracks. Makes you nervous.

"Kook?"

Whatever trance he's in, he snaps out of it. Realigns his focus. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod. "Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah," he parrots back. "Just being careful."

"It's fine," you smile. "I'm not a porcelain doll—and this is fine, actually."

"It is?"

"Mhmm. This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be."

"You're welcome."

You laugh, and tell him to shut up. He squeezes ever so gently around your chest, and as much as you hate to admit it, a fucking moan is lodged in your throat. You don't let it out. Don't want him to know it feels electric having his hands on you like this. God, it's nice. It's good. Comforting. That's what surprises you the most.

You've spent so long avoiding contact like this, that you had forgotten why you liked it so much in the first place.

In fact, you find yourself pouting ever so slightly when he pulls away, revealing two black handprints cradling your tits. His is the reverse, white paint on a black shirt.

"See," he smiles. "Told you it was cool. When they're dry, we can go in with markers and outline the skeleton shapes."

The pout on your lips as you look at him is sweet, eyes full of wonder. He thinks he's only ever seen you like this when you're drunk. It's all hazy, and it's like the glitter that's normally on your cheeks is in your pupils instead.

Silence resumes in his room, both of you conscious of Jimin milling around in the kitchen. Jungkook tells you to take the shirt off —"be careful, don't let the paint touch anywhere else"— so that it can dry properly.

It's as you're both standing there half-naked with your backs to one another, that he's caught off guard.

"Let's do it."

"Hmm?"

"Let's do it," you repeat. "That first idea. The canvas. I packed one just in case and I... I didn't think we'd need it - but it wasn't entirely horrible, and-I-think-I-wanna-see-if-maybe-"

"Byeol," Jungkook laughs, cutting you off, but doesn't turn around to face you. He's still trying to be as respectful as he can be. "Breathe. If you wanna do it, we can. No biggie on my part."

"It's a biggie on my part," you say quietly.

Jungkook frowns. Doesn't like how vulnerable you sound. "I know. It's okay. We can make it not a biggie."

Your mind races at a mile a minute. You've not let anyone other than Seokjin touch your bare chest in such a long time. The idea of Jungkook doing it now makes you feel nervous, but you're ready for it. Ready to feel renewed. Ready to finally fucking let go.

"How do you want to do this?" You ask, because one decision is enough for you. You'd rather let him be in the driver's seat, now. Leave your destination unknown. Leave it up to him. You're just here for the journey. Here for the ride.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yeah," you say. You don't mind him seeing you like this - you're shirtless, but you still have a bra on. He takes a second to look at your back; how your spine trails down it. Wonders if there are dimples at the bottom of it. They'd be hidden by your trousers now, and he doesn't really remember checking after the paint party.

He shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts, as he heads to the curtains and draws one of them shut. The other curtain remains open, but neither of you will be standing in front of it, so he doesn't think it matters all that much.

Jungkook comes to stand behind you, turning you to face the mirror. His hands are on your shoulders, still a little paint-ridden, but nothing that bothers you.

"So I'm thinking," he says quietly, eyes on yours in the reflection as he toys slightly with the bra straps over your shoulders. "That this comes off."

You swallow so hard that Jungkook thinks you might choke. You don't.

But you also nod.

"Is that a yes?" He checks for consent.

"It's a yes."

His hands are slow as they stroke down your back. He's not really thinking. Just working on auto-pilot. This isn't about him. It's all about you. What you need. What you want.

"Then, I think we need more paint," he says, his fingers working to unclasp your bra. You feel the tension ping and release, and you think you might have a heart attack. He notices the change in your breathing. "If you need to stop, you just say, okay? Tell me okay?"

"Okay," you nod, knowing you're in the safest hands you possibly could be.

"What will you say? Give me a word. Something obscure. A safe word."

You shake your head and shrug, trying to think. "I don't know - chess?"

Jungkook laughs, knowing exactly where your eyes must have been focused - on the shelf by his desk, where his chess set sits undisturbed. "Okay. Chess."

"Chess."

"Just say it, and I'll stop."

You're silent as he reaches over for the paint, and tells you to toss your bra on his bed. The click of the acrylic bottle opening and closing beats in time with your heart. Jungkook's warming the paint between his hands, trying to make this as comfortable for you as he possibly can.

You're entirely bare from the waist up, and don't take much comfort in the fact that he is too. It feels a hell of a lot scarier for you, and you both know it.

"I'm gonna touch you now," he says, and waits for you to nod. You close your eyes. Bite on your lip. Wait for the contact—and when his palms softly connect, your brows knit together. Jungkook watches on, apprehensive. It almost looks like you're in pain, but as he begins to spread the paint over your breasts, they ease. "That okay?"

You nod. "It's okay."

When you open your eyes, you avoid looking towards the mirror. You look down, look away - and Jungkook notices. He nudges the side of your head with his own. Realigns it. Encourages. "Watch."

He speaks quietly, the dulcet tone of his purr just loud enough for you, but untraceable to anyone outside the room. He doesn't want Jimin to hear. Doesn't want Jimin to know.

It's not that he was lying when he said Jimin wouldn't care - he genuinely believes it'd be no issue, especially with context provided—it's just that he hasn't figured out how to explain it. The girl you shagged a few months ago? We're friends. Pretty good friends, actually. And I'm touching her boobs to help her get over a fear. Totally normal.

Jimin's fully aware of the friendship. Knows you've been in the apartment a handful of times. Jungkook never hides it from it; just tells him after the occasion. He doesn't mind.

In fact, Jimin quite likes your company whenever he bumps into you. Is quite glad you're not weird around him just because you've had sex. If anything, it gives him high hopes that maybe you'll be up for round two on the nights he can't find anyone else. To be honest, it'd make you the perfect candidate for a friends-with-benefits type situation with him. He hasn't had one of those in a while.

He doesn't share this thought process with Jungkook. Isn't sure how well received it would be. See, Jungkook's been incredibly vocal about how embarking on a friends-with-benefits situation is potentially the stupidest thing a person can do.

He'd lost his best friend—the girl he could have spent his life with—that way. Hasn't spoken to his favourite person in months because her new boyfriend doesn't like her hanging out with people she used to fuck. Makes sense. He can't argue against it.

He can think about it in the quiet hours of the early mornings, though, and weep a little out of frustration with how fucked up the best thing in life became.

There's a naive hope within him now that thinks he's fixing his previous wrongs with you. Doing things he's already done, without taking it too far, this time. A broken heart can't fall in love, after all. It's different.

Your eyes land on his; dark and frightfully deep. He's not sure what you're thinking. Tells himself it's better that way.

"My hands," he corrects. "Eyes on my hands, Byeol. Watch what I'm doing."

It takes you a moment to pull your eyes from his - and when you do, something about it feels catastrophic. Paint covers the skin of your chest; only a few small gaps of exposed skin are still on display. He squeezes. Moves his fingers. Doesn't specifically aim to cover those spots, but know it's the end goal.

There's a muffled moan hiding in your throat; revelations of a lost pleasure that you've refused to let yourself indulge in.

"Kook-" you begin, but he hushes you.

"Just feel it. Watch it."

And so you do. His chin rests on your shoulder, watching your body, keeping an eye on the way your heartbeat begins to calm, yet races all the same. The ink on his hand is hidden by the paint, his forearms just as much of a mess as your chest. You fight your instincts which tell you to close your eyes; to lean into his touch.

The moan that's made it home in your throat decides it's been trapped for too long. It tickles at your lips, vibrates into the room. You catch it with a gasp, and Jungkook can't help but let an airy smirk fall from his lips.

He never thought you were kidding about how much you liked it, but it's different seeing it in the flesh. There's an insolent nature to his teasing, and it makes you want to fucking whine.

"How does it feel, Byeol?"

Your eyes flick up to his, your lips resting ajar. The heaving of your chest is far easier to see when he stops massaging your chest. You smirk back at him. Roll your eyes.

"You don't wanna know," you tell him, because as much as he tried to make out that none of this would be sexual, your body doesn't agree.

And honestly, nor does his.

"No," he says, closing the minuscule gap he's been keeping between his crotch and your ass. The corners of his lips twitch upwards when you feel it—feel him—press against you. "I think I do wanna know."

His smirk is laced in sin, dark eyes hazy, as your chest begins to stutter all over again. You bring your hand to rest over one of his. Encourage his movements. Let your eyes close. Don't hide the moan that travels through you.

"I thought you said this wasn't gonna be sexual," you eventually say a little breathlessly. You encourage his movements still, just to let him know you're not entirely opposed to it.

"It's not," he purrs against your ear, and presses himself against you again, a little firmer this time. His breath is hot against your skin as you lean your head back, a laboured grunt stuck now in his throat. You can feel his heartbeat against your back.

You let your eyes rest on him in the reflection. Take a moment to read his face, and decide you've no idea what this man is thinking.

Truth be told, he's not really having any cognitive thoughts.

"You're hard," you tell him.

His eyes rest shut, a bashful smile on his giddy lips, neck turning ever so slightly to rest his forehead against your hair. And then he whispers, "Don't tell me you're not wet, Byeol."

"Mhhm," you moan with a little humour. "Dry as the Sahara, buddy."

"God, if my hands weren't covered in paint-"

"You'd what?" you interrupt with a sardonic smile. "This isn't sexual, remember?"

He scrunches his face up. Looks at you. Looks at your chest. Looks away from the mirror, and down to watch his movements. He alters his pace, playing with your tits just for the fun of it, seeing how he can toy with them. It might not be what usually gets him keen, but he can see why you attract boob guys; can also understand why your ex would keep coming back if he is a boob guy.

"You ever do this to yourself? Like, for fun?" He asks, ignoring your last question, seemingly hypnotised by the overspill between his fingers, and the way it jiggles for him.

"Like non-sexually?"

"Mhhm," he says as he repositions himself. Cups the undersides of your boobs. Lets his thumbs flick against your nipples. You moan in a way he hasn't heard before. Does it again. Same result.

"Fuck," you hiss. "Yeah, I do it - fuck, Kook - for fun. Not like this though. This is"—

"Just for getting you wet?"

Yes.

"I'm not wet."

"Such a liar, Byeol."

His fingers pinch, gently clasping at your nipples. Has you mewling. Has you amazed you haven't been letting anyone do this during sex. You've been making yourself suffer to solidify your heartbreak. Maybe if you'd have been fucking people how you like to be fucked, instead of using it as a tool of validation, you'd have found the whole thing a bit easier. Or perhaps not. Perhaps you'll never know.

"Are you trying to make me wet?" You challenge, eyes on him, watching the way he's watching himself.

He shakes his head. Nestles it against your hair. Likes the scent of your shampoo. Inhales a little deeper. Is breathless when he rasps, "Just helping out a friend. How your body reacts to me is its own problem."

You scoff. "My body's reaction has got nothing to do with you."

"No?" His grip tightens. You whine.

"Kook-" is all you can manage, chest heaving, heart in your throat. Your back is arching, pushing your chest further into his grasp.

He's about to mock you; about to tease you a little more. Make some dumb remark, you sure, something that will have you fighting back against him—but it's interrupted.

"Hey, Jungkook?" A voice shouts from the living room. "You in?"

The way Jungkook pulls away from you is so abrupt you almost lose balance. He pulls a shirt from his chair, chucks it in your direction without looking back and darts for the door at such speed, you wouldn't be surprised to see him in a comic book like one of his damn figurines.

He opens the door just a crack, keeping you hidden, ignoring the fact his door handle is now slathered in black paint - the corner of his pristine white wall, too.

"Hey," he squeaks as Jimin stops in his tracks. He'd just been about to reach for Jungkook's doorhandle to invite himself in, but the look on Jungkook's face tells him to stay away.

Jimin raises an eyebrow. "This isn't suspicious at all."

Behind Jungkook's head, Jimin can see his bed. It's made, not disturbed in the slightest, but the way Jungkook is guarding the room makes it incredibly clear he was up to no good. It's all very amusing. Just out of his eye line is your bra.

"Was just letting you know I'm off out," he smirks. "But I'll leave you to it. Don't think I'll be back till morning, so stay safe, young padawan."

"Right," Jungkook purses his lips, not wanting to give Jimin the satisfaction of confirming nor denying anything.

Jimin doesn't care to watch Jungkook squirm. Would rather let him get back to whoever it is with him in his room. The kid's been out of action for so long that he's frankly pleased to see him acting so shifty. He's never known anyone who needs to get laid as much as Jungkook does. Hopes this means he's finally over the last girl.

He turns on his heel, but calls back, "Don't forget to wrap it up! Can't be arsed with baby-proofing the apartment."

"Jesus Christ," Jungkook mutters as he closed his door. He rests his head on the frame for a moment, before turning his head to find you in a state of absolute horror.

"Kook!" You whisper, eyes wide, heart thumping into your chest. The shirt he'd thrown at you is still on the floor because it's a white shirt, and you weren't stupid enough to actually pick it up. You kick back across to his chair, hands covering your chest without touching them. You don't want to end up as messy as he is.

Jungkook strides across to you with a scrunched-up face and just moves your arms, laughing to himself slightly as he cups your breasts in his hands. He holds them firmly. Squeezes an apology. Admittedly, you do feel more protected like this.

"Shush, shush," he coos quietly, a stupid smile plastered all over his face. His hands are temperate, but they squeeze at you a little as his shoulders lift ever so slightly. "He's not out the door yet."

There's a pause as you both wait with bated breath. There's a faint click, which Jungkook knows is the front door going, so he nods. A second click follows.

"You're safe," he laughs, and you can't help but laugh, too. Your hands instinctively come up to cover your chest, but his hands are already there, so you drop them again. His forehead rests against yours. His frivolous energy is contagious, the pair of you breathlessly giggling at the weird fucking situation you're in. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you shake your head, keeping your forehead against his, almost brushing your nose with his. "Not your fault."

"Got a little carried away, though," he whispers, his smile fading as he harshly swallows back. "Should've tapped out. I should have said chess."

You shrug. Whisper, "Takes two to tango."

The moment lingers. Wraps you both up in a ribbon, and ties a bow where his hands meet your chest. Safe and secure. A memory to be tucked away under your list of bad decisions, but for the moment, you'll convince yourself it was a good idea. You're not thinking of Seokjin, at least, and that was the real goal.

"Let's finish this off," he says, nodding over to the canvas. "We need more paint, though. I'm pretty sure I've literally, like, moisturised it into your skin. I don't think that's a good thing."

"It's definitely not a good thing," you cringe, knowing that your pores must be screaming beneath the acrylic. You wait for his grip to leave your chest, but it doesn't. It's only when you raise a brow and shake your head at him that he realises.

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah."

It's a lot more clumsy this time round. Jungkook's second-guessing himself, almost as if he hasn't just spent God knows how long grappling with your tits. He laughs, and so do you, the pair of you finding every little thing hilarious. Perhaps it's nerves, or perhaps you're trying to play this off as something totally normal between friends, but either way, you think you're glad you're with him. Glad he took a chance on your birds.

"How do we even do this?" Jungkook hums in confusion when he holds up the canvas. He puts it in all kinds of positions, but can't seem to figure out the best course of action. You tilt your head and mull it over.

"Gimmie it," you say softly, holding your hands out to retrieve it from him. His palms have left prints on the edges, but it doesn't matter. Turning to the mirror, you can't help but smile at how much of a mess you are. Such a stupid idea, and yet it's worked perfectly. "Okay, stand behind me again - keep your boner away from me this time, though."

"My God, I don't even have one anymore," he whines, and it's true. It's just a semi.

"Sure," you tease, but begin to instruct him further. "Hold them, like, underneath. How you did earlier. Yeah, yeah, that's it," you nod.

His long fingers support the base of your breasts, his thumbs resting on the sides. Chin on the top of your head, it's a lot less intimate than it had been. This, you think, could be argued as non-sexual.

A momentary lapse in judgement is fine, and that's what you'll chalk earlier up to.

It's not like there are set rules to this whole arrangement. Mistakes will be made; bad decisions, too. What matters is that you don't make the same ones twice.

"Okay," you muse quietly, holding the canvas up to your chest, trying to line it up perfectly. "I'm gonna press down. Keep still."

Jungkook doesn't dare move. Too scared you'll notice his semi and tell him off for being a randy bastard. It's circumstantial. He's never spent so long holding a pair of tits. It's just... hormones. Maybe. He isn't really sure.

Pressing the canvas against your poised chest, you apply as much pressure as you can, trying to get the imprint. You're mumbling affirmations of a good job to yourself —"Okay, good. Just a little more. Little more pressure, c'mon."—before pulling it away.

It almost peels, the paint a little tacky, but sure enough, the imprint is there, and pretty damn perfect if you do say so yourself. A pleased, albeit a little surprised, laugh escapes your lips.

"Oh, that's fucking cool," Jungkook beams. "Looks like one of those inkblot tests."

He's not wrong. There are two well-defined black circles, the imprints differing ever so slightly, smudging outwards. To you, it's plainly obvious it's a pair of tits—but then again, they are your tits. It's a lived, breathed experience of yours. Anyone else looking might mistake them for something else.

"Mmm," you agree. "What do you see?"

You're holding it up in front of you, blocking the mirror from your view. Jungkook's head dips to your shoulder, where his pointy chin rests but you don't complain. One of his structured hands eases, slipping to a more natural grasp on your boob, while the other drops. It slinks around the front of your waist, his forearm keeping your back pressed against his chest.

"Big ol' pair of titties," he says in potentially the most childish voice he could have chosen. You pull away from his grasp and give him a look of disgust. "Sorry, I mean... not a pair of tits?"

"You're a fucking child, Jeon," you scold, to which he tells you that he's actually very mature and you're just being a boring old bint. Turning back around to study it a little more, you tilt your head. It's missing something. Jungkook's grasp on you had never fully eased, but both of his hands rest now at the dips of your waist. You pay it no mind. "I think we should add to it."

"Watcha thinking?"

"Not sure," you muse. "It is a little bit too obvious."

"So you're saying it does look like a big pair of"—

"Oh my God," you groan, walking away from him and to where the paint is sitting pretty. "Lie down."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. Lie down."

You don't look at him as you say your commands, instead you spend your time picking between the paints. The silver is your favourite, but as much as he likes to wear it in the form of jewellery, you know that gold is his colour. It's the one that suits him best - or at least, suits who he is.

He's hesitant, but he does as you say. He lies on his back horizontally across the bed, like how the pair of you do when you look at the birds, one of his arms resting over his stomach. He looks up to them now, no smile on his lips, but an overwhelming sense of contentedness.

Before you, he used to look at the birds and feel guilt. Was harbouring feelings that he'd told everyone he had let go of. They're still there, but they're diluted. Too much of you filling the empty spaces for him to dwell on the birds made for her instead.

You come to perch next to him on the bed, sitting on your ankles as his gaze falls to yours with great curiosity.

"What are you doing, Byeol?"

With a smile, you say nothing - just uncap the paint lid, and turn it on its end over the top of his chest. He doesn't object. Just watches you quietly. Patiently. Hisses when the chill of the paint comes into contact with his skin, but lets you do as you please.

Capping it shut with a click, you reach over to put the paint on his bedside table. Still shirtless, Jungkook watches the way your tits move, and doesn't even try to hide it.

"Eyes up here," you say as you regain full posture, but he keeps his eyes on your tits.

"Can't. Hypnotised."

You're laughing as you roll your eyes. "Such a liar, Mr 'I'm an Ass Guy'."

He finally looks at you, almost in horror, thanks to the voice you just did impersonate him. "Is that how you think I sound?!"

"It is how you sound," you tell him, knowing that you should have deepened your voice. Instead, you'd deliberately raised it a few octaves. "I'm a voice actress in my spare time," you lie. "I've been told I have perfect pitch on many occasions. That was an exact replica of your voice."

It's said with such a straight face that it would be believable if it wasn't for the fact that Jungkook does have perfect pitch. His music teacher always tried to make him pursue a musical career, but he was fearful of failure. Didn't want to put himself out there just to get rejected.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you," he mutters as your finger begins to draw over his chest with the paint. "Most annoying girl I've ever met—shit"— He winces as you flick his nipple, his hand coming to rub at it almost immediately. "Byeol!"

"Hmm?" you smile. "Sorry were you saying something?"

He says nothing, just narrows his eyes at you as you get back to work, spreading the paint over his chest.

"We've already got an imprint of my tits," you muse, pressing the metallic gold into his muscles, quietly in awe over his physique. "And now I wanna get an imprint of your tits, too. Over the top of mine. I think it'll look cool."

"You mean my pecks?"

"Yeah, sure," you say. "Your tits."

"They're pecks!"

"Okay?"

"One of those birds better have 'fixing my attitude problem' on them," Jungkook huffs, but it's all in good humour. You tell him your attitude is golden—just like his tits are. "They're fucking pecks!"

Reaching over for the canvas, your golden palms are just clumsy as his had been, leaving little marks on the edge of the canvas. Laughter fills his room as you try and decide how to place it, with the pair of your twisting and turning the canvas to try and figure out your best bet. You don't want to obscure your tits entirely, but his chest is broad.

"Don't think you thought this through," Jungkook teases. "You just wanted an excuse to touch my chest."

You flick his nipple again.

"Jesus Christ! One more time and I'll"—

Oh, how you love a threat. Can't wait to see if it's a promise.

And so you flick the other.

"Right, that's it."

It'd be a lie if you said you knew exactly where he flung the canvas - you were too busy trying to avoid his grasp as he got to his feet - but there are only so many places you can run to in his room.

In fact, you only actually get about three steps away by the time his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his grasp. The paint on his chest is slick against your back, but he doesn't really think about it as he turns you around, pressing you up against the window that doesn't have the curtain pulled shut.

His large hand clasps both of your wrists, holding them above your head just to keep them away from his damn nipples. The chase was minimal, the catch far too easy - and yet you're both breathless. Chests heaving. Your nipples are gilded in gold. He's far too fucking close.

"Kook"—

"What did I say about flicking my nipples?" He looks down at you, desperately trying not to smirk. The anger he's feigning is convincing, but even if he was furious, he's painted like a chryselephantine statue. In all fairness, he's got the body to match. A Greecian God if you ever did see one.

"Can't help it," you pout. "Your tits are just so perky."

He doesn't even insist on the fact they're pecks this time. Just lets his eyes drop to your tits, then back to your eyes. Repeats this four or five times. Shakes his head.

"If that's the metric we're going with, Byeol, then you're well overdue half a dozen nipple flicks."

"Nooo," you whine, squirming to get out of his grasp. He doesn't let you immediately, but ultimately decides it's for the best. Needs to calm himself down. Can't be having another repeat of the night before.

As soon as his grasp eases, you bolt away from him, and retrieve the canvas from the foot of his bed. He notices the gold on his window, and ignores it. Will deal with it later. It's an easy fix. A logical one.

For now, he's got a half-naked force of a woman in his room that he doesn't know how the fuck to deal with. No logic, no reason, no rhyme seems to help him figure you out.

"Please can we finish the canvas?" you say sweetly, as if you haven't been the one derailing things every single step of the way.

He says nothing. Spread his arms wide. Beckons you forward.

Pressing the canvas to his chest, you throw all of your deliberations out of the window. You don't really care for the outcome, now. Just know that the pair of you need to not be topless anymore.

It's platonic, yeah, but it is tempting.

The canvas peels much like it did when your impression was made, the paint tacky on his skin. The pair of you are dumbfounded as you take in the result for the first time.

It's fucking beautiful.

Metallic gold weaves around the black, overlaying ever so serenely, creating an abstract interaction between the shapes.

"What do you see now?" you ask softly, quietly proud of your creation together.

"I see a masterpiece," he grins, and that arm of his that likes hooking around your waist so much finds its favourite spot once more. His chin is on your head. "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"Look there"— he points to a small 'v' shape, just above the imprint of your chest that's free of gold. "Looks to me like a bird."

"Holy shit."

"A fear set free," he muses.

"Well done us," you beam, holding your hand up for him to high-five. He does so with ease, before reaching for the canvas and propping it up on his desk.

"C'mon," he grips onto your shoulders. Eases you forward and to his bedroom door. Reaching round to open it, he lets his hands fall to your waist, and then back up to cup your tits as you walk together. "Shower."

"Are you ever gonna let go of them now?" You laugh, finally pointing out just how bloody handsy he is.

"Don't think so."

"Brilliant."

He eventually does let them go as you're both washing your hands beneath the tap of his bathroom sink.

"Got a little paint in your hair," Jungkook says as you're drying your hands. He goes to twiddle at it in an attempt the break the dry paint down. It's not a lot, but it does mean you'll need to wash your hair to avoid the bleached strands from staining.

"Shit," you curse, knowing that Jungkook definitely won't have any silver shampoo, nor will he have anything more than a bog-standard conditioner.

"Hold on," he says, moving you to the side to rummage in the cupboard beneath the sink. There's a small clatter of bottles as he pulls a basket from the back of the shelf with a triumphant smile.

It's a grin that's quietly pleased, lips thin, pressed together, lip ring flipping in that way which always makes you smile. The basket itself is just as interesting as Jungkook's face—a myriad of coloured tubes, and lo-and-behold, the same brand of silver shampoo you use.

"Jimin had a phase," he explains. "Well, no actually, he's had a few - but this is from the coloured hair phase. You need the purple shit, right?"

You nod. "The purple shit."

"Take what you need," he says as he gets back to his full posture, leaving the room only to return a moment later with a bottle of conditioner in hand. You know the brand. It's pricey. You only buy it when it's on sale. You furrow your brows, and he just shrugs. "I keep my good towels out of the bathroom, Jimin keeps his good conditioner out of it instead."

It's funny, 'cause you do exactly the same. Danbi has been blessed with hair from the Gods, so never has to pay much attention to what she uses. A string of bad dye jobs and unhealthy heat habits have left you with a deep conditioning complex, and there's nothing worse than going for a shower and realising the conditioner you paid and an arm and a leg for is all gone.

Will this stop you from using Jimin's special conditioner? No, absolutely not. You care more about your hair than you do about his annoyance.

"How are we doing this?" You ask casually as Jungkook starts the shower up.

"Well," he contemplates far too hard for the sentence that follows. "I think we get in the shower, and then I think we... shower?"

"Right," you nod, as he grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Silly me. Of course it's that simple."

"Well it can be," he shrugs. "We both know we didn't really do the shower bird to completion, and aren't we saying 'fuck it', now? So why not?"

He's got a point. You feel far less on edge about the whole showering thing since the last time. It's like you've been working through it in stages, and it's helped.

"So..." you say quietly. "I don't know about you, Kook, but I normally shower naked."

He just shrugs. "Really, Byeol? Do you not think we've already crossed that boundary? I'm quite literally staring at your tits right now."

You look down to your exposed chest, and suppose he's right.

"Just... don't look, okay? You get in the shower first and like, face the wall or something."

As much as he thinks you're being ridiculous and that it really doesn't matter, he agrees. Your birds are, after all, all about you, and what you're comfortable with. Just because he is doesn't mean you will be.

He strips down, and discards his clothes into a pile. He'd be lying if he said he was entirely confident, but he definitely feels the pressure a lot less than you do.

"I'm in," he says encouraging you to follow suit.

Against your better judgement, you do.

You toss your trousers on top of his, panties too, and make your way into his shower. It's warm, just the right temperature, still set to Jimin's preference from earlier.

"Now was that so hard?" Jungkook asks, still facing the wall.

"No," you say airily. "I can see why you're an ass guy."

He turns his head, and sure enough, your eyes are on his ass. "Double standards."

"It's really good," you say, a little in shock at just how toned it is; how you'd kill for yours to be as peachy as his. "But you're right, you're right - I'm sorry."

"Can I at least turn around now?" He asks. "Seeing as you've already broken rule number one."

"What rule?!"

"Looking! You set the bloody rule!"

"Oh yeah," you grimace. Part of you considers turning around, but in all honesty, you don't want his ass-loving eyes to fall on yours and be disappointed. "Um, yeah. Sure. You can turn."

He's cupping his balls as he does so, hiding himself. It's sort of sweet in a way, and matches your own awkward stance.

"C'mon," he says, knocking his head back, encouraging you further into the stream of water. "Need to wash you off."

"You need to?"

"Well, yeah? Only fair. I'm the one who got you like that." He senses your hesitation, and offers you an out. "Or you can do it. I don't mind either way."

And for some reason, you don't actually seem to mind the suggestion. "Go for it."

He steps a little closer. "Say the word and I'll stop."

You reach for his hands. Lift them to your chest. "I don't think I'll say it."

He begins to massage at them, easing the paint off ever so gently, but it's stubborn. "Could do with some shower gel. Scent preference?"

"Hmm, strawberry?"

"Great choice."

You still find the fact he has more than one shower gel on the go hilarious, but you enjoy having a choice. It's one of the fantastic things about Jungkook; you're never backed into a corner. He'll always give you an option. A way out.

And yet as he gets reacquainted with your chest, you don't think you want one. The things that scared you before - forgetting Seokjin, losing his touch - seem like a world away. Yes, it's different with Jungkook, but it doesn't mean that it erases what you had with Seokjin. It also doesn't mean that you have to subject yourself to a life of boring sex just because you're harbouring guilt from a relationship breakdown that really wasn't your fault at all.

Seokjin had strayed, though. Made you feel like there was something wrong with you. Had you questioning the things you thought he'd loved about you - your tits included.

Seeing how Jungkook - a self-professed ass guy - reacts to them has been so validating. So needed. Will do you wonders in the future, you're sure.

It's as he's kneading at your tits that you notice he's becoming a little moany, too. A little unstrained. God, it's so satisfying.

He closes his eyes. Rests his forehead on yours. Squeezes around your tits as he swallows so harshly you think you can almost hear it. Nods, and then says, "Still an ass guy—but fucking hell, Byeol. You might convert me."

You laugh now, and Jungkook is obsessed with the way your boobs slide beneath his fingers, sopping wet and moving in time with your body. He still doesn't open his eyes.

"Fun aren't they?"

Again, he just nods. Doesn't wanna think about anything too hard.

If he does, he knows he'll have to deal with the fact his cock is now hard, too.

He thanks the high heavens that you just aren't mentioning it, because there's no way you haven't noticed.

It's not like he meant for it to happen. One moment he was trying to be respectful, and the next all he could think about it how soft and warm they are in his grasp. Was all beyond his control.

Thing is, Jungkook has no idea how hard it is for you to resist reaching down for it. It feels like second nature; like it's what you should do.

But it's a boundary that's still intact, and you'd like to keep as many of those as possible.

So would he - but he's fucking solid, throbbing, balls tight. Can't remember the last time he got like this. Sure he's been hard. Been horny. But this is on another level.

And so he just says fuck it.

Tells you so.

"Byeol if I don't cum in the next five minutes I think I'm gonna die."

His admission takes you by surprise. You want to laugh, but remain deadly serious as you say, "I think you'll be fine."

"No," he insists. "I will actually die."

"How?"

"Ruptured ballsack?" He grimaces. "I don't know, but I do know that my life is quite literally flashing before my eyes right now."

"Poor baby," you pout, and stroke at his hair just to wind him up a little bit more.

"Don't," he whines. "I'm one more sarcastic comment away from sucking your tits just to shut you up. You know how many pairs of tits I've sucked?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "None. Always thought it was weird. But now? I'm so horny I'm literally delirious. Willing to do anything."

Yeah right, you think.

"That's not very platonic of you," you state, using the exact tone of voice you know is winding him up.

"Byeol, I said one more."

"One more what?"

"God," he lets out a tortured sob. "It's like you want me to suck your tits."

"Me? Want that? Never."

"But it wasn't on the bird," he says, as if the birds really do dictate every single one of his actions. "Can't do it."

"In all fairness, Kook, nor was anything else that happened tonight. It was literally just the word 'tits'."

He tries to think straight, but he really can't. Doesn't know what's come over him. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe he just never knew how much he liked tits. Either way, he's absolutely done for.

He runs his thumbs over your nipples, and—fuck—the way you moan really does have him wanting to take them in his mouth. It's always been a no-go for him. Always thought the concept was a bit weird.

But it's all he can think about, now.

All he wants.

"Oh my god," he whines, again, obviously going through a little inner turmoil. His forehead drops to your shoulder. "Why do I want it? Why do I wanna suck your tits?"

"Mummy issues."

"Byeol! You're not helping."

"Just get yourself off," you laugh. "Once you get the orgasm out of you, you'll be able to think straight."

He nods. Knows you're right. "What about you? Do you need to?"

You've a much better grasp on your desperation than he does. You're a brat through and through, and find it hilarious that men seem to think they 'tame' you. In reality, you're the one who calls the shots. You're always in control. Just let them think they are.

With Jungkook, you've not needed to play up for him, so you don't realise how unaware he is of the fact your inner thighs are coated in your slickness.

"Can do," you shrug.

"That's not a yes."

You roll your eyes. "Look at me."

He does as he's told, and you decide very quickly that he would be so incredibly easy to turn into your bitch if you wanted him to be. It's cute. His lips are parted, brows pushed together, a crease forming above his nose. He really does look like he might die. Poor baby.

Dipping your hands to where your legs part, you run two fingers along your folds, and hold them up for Jungkook to see. You separate your fingers, the clear fluid suspended between the two of them. He whines again. Rests his head on your shoulder.

"The bird," he says. "The bird that we kinda did, but didn't do."

"What of it?" you toy, knowing exactly what he wants.

"Can we?" He rasps, unable to get his sentence out. One of his hands is on your chest, the other pressed flat to the tiles beside your head. His cock is desperate for contact. His hips are pulsing against nothing. If he doesn't grip onto it soon, he's gonna rut too far and end up touching you.

"You wanna get off together?"

He just nods. Mewls. "Please just give me the green light, Byeol. Please."

And as much as you want to keep fucking with him, it feels cruel now. His veins are engorged, flooded with blood, in desperate need of him to do something - anything - to have his heart beating normally again.

"Okay," you whisper. "Get yourself off."

He doesn't waste a second. Has his hand around his cock by the time you've finished the sentence. The change in his breathing is stark. There's a moan caught with every tug on his cock, his hand moving at a speed you didn't was humanely possible.

And it excites you.

Has you clasping the tit that he isn't currently holding onto for dear life, while your other hand sinks to your folds. You're soaked, clit throbbing, begging for even the faintest bit of attention. When Jungkook hears you moan too, he thinks he's done for. Holds his cock so tight he's scared he'll ruin his orgasm.

You know your body though. Know how to get yourself off within a minute when duty calls.

"Keep going," you tell him. "I can get close."

"That quickly?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Women are magic," you say between pants, dipping your fingers into your entrance for a little bit of fiction to your g-spot, just enough to really get you there.

"Fucking magic," he husks, his body edging a little closer to yours. You don't mind. In fact, you think you'll prefer it, so you let go of your chest and encourage him to close the gap. Your hand is on his waist, pulling him closer. He looks up. Regrets it, 'cause he never needed to see you looking like this. Doesn't ever wanna fuckin' look away. "Sure?"

"Mhhm," you moan, unable to get a word out because of how close you are—and then you can feel the tip of his cock press against your stomach, just below your ribcage. His movements are frantic.

"I'm not gonna last."

"Then don't."

His forehead rests on yours, the pair of you breathing so heavily that you're basically surviving on one another. Inhale, exhale. You're one and the same.

"Oh, fuck," you mewl, so incredibly close. Your fingers massage at your pussy just how you like it; spank against your clit a little, tease it to the near point of no return. "Kook, I'm about to"—

"Me too," he chokes. "Where?"

"It's fine," you husk, knowing he's asking where to cum. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"Sure?"

"Just fucking cum, Kook. Cum on me."

"Shit."

The release is just as undignified as the build. The pair of you are messes, whining as you come undone together. The voltage runs from the tips of your toes to the tops of your fingers, so intense that they go fucking numb for a moment. You're overstimulated almost as soon as it hits, unable to do anything but pant against his shoulder.

The tip of Jungkook's cock is pressed against your skin, his release painting you in the most glorious sin. He cums, but it feels like it never stops. Every time you think it has, he whines again, wanks a little more, unloads another spurt onto your torso. It trails down your hip, to your thigh and then sinks to the shower floor; washed away like a bad decision never to be repeated.

Breathlessness overcomes the pair of you, remaining as you are for a few moments, until Jungkook finally breaks it.

"I swear I never usually cum that fast."

You just laugh. Pat his head. "Sure."

"Fuck off, I don't," he says, laughing now too. "Christ. What the fuck was that, Byeol?"

He lifts his posture from how it's rested against you, turning to press his shoulders to the tiles beside you. The shower is still running, so he reaches over to turn it off. Neither of you are fully clean yet, but you'll get back to it in a moment. No point in running his water bill up just because he can.

"Well," you exhale. "I think you just discovered boobs."

He laughs. Tilts his head back against the tiles. Bites his lips as he shakes his head. "To be fair, I think you might be right."

You laugh now too, and that's how the evening remains; full of laughter. Jokes about how platonic and totally friendly the entire exchange has been. There's no weirdness, but in all honesty, you never thought there would be.

Jungkook lends you a pair of sweats and one of his shirts after the shower, your hair air drying beautifully thanks to Jimins oh-so-expensive conditioner. You feel a little bad for using it now, but you made him cum once, so you think you're even.

"And when Jimin asks where it's come from?" You question as you watch from Jungkook's sofa while he hangs your artwork up on the wall. It's next to the television. Really fucking hard to miss. Will be the first thing he notices.

"I'll just say it's one of Tae's," Jungkook shrugs.

"And when Tae comes round?"

"I'll... think of another lie?"

"Sounds foolproof," you muse, sipping on your glass of water, thinking that he's possibly the biggest idiot you know.

"Either way, neither of them will know what it is, or who made it. It'll be a mystery. Wait, unless," he stops himself. Furrows his brows together. Tries to join dots in his head. Even uses his hands to help with the mental work. "Would Jimin be able to tell?"

Your lips purse up, forming a thin line between your cheeks. You shake your head.

"No?"

"No," you say. "He never... Well, I meant what I said about them. Keeping them off limits. Or at least, kept."

"Yeah," Jungkook nods, accepting your truth, but thinking of hypotheticals. "Did he not see them, like, at all?"

"Um," you say to buy time, questioning how much you should divulge. "You really wanna know?"

Jungkook shrugs. Nods his head again. Makes no difference to him.

You adjust in your seat, trying to think of how to phrase the events of your night with Jimin, and finally settle on, "Well, I was fully clothed"—

"What?"

—"And we did it from behind." You watch as Jungkook stays silent for a moment. He's doing that thinking face of his again. The hand is moving. Figuring things out. And then you realise what he's doing. "No! Gross! Don't imagine it!"

"I'm just trying to get a visual!" He protests with a small pout. "Just trying to understand how!"

"My god," you cringe, hiding your head in your hands. "Never should have done that bird with you."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he comes to sit beside you, admiring his handiwork. He actually really likes the painting. Is glad you added him to it, too.

"Yes, you should have," he says. "You admitted it yourself, you kept your tits off-limits, but it's clearly a big part of sex for you, right?"

You nod, not looking at him, but up at the canvas. It really is pretty. "Right."

"If you could do all that with me, you can do it with anyone else. It'll make a huge difference to how satisfying you find casual sex, which is like, the whole goal, right?"

And again, you nod.

"Exactly," he beams. "Now, say 'thank you Jungkook'."

"I'm not saying thank you," you laugh. "You literally got cum on my feet. You should be thanking me."

"Oh my god," he groans. "I'm never showering with you again."

"It wasn't the shower that was the issue!"

The pair of you bicker a little more, until the reality of it being the early hours of the morning kicks in. You're both yawning, hardly able to keep your eyes open. He offers up his bed, but you'd feel guilty taking it two nights in a row, so call for a taxi instead.

You're still in his clothes, but you'll just return them the inevitable next time.

He tells you to let him know when you get home safe, and you do, only for him to reply a few minutes later with a message that makes you consider blocking him.

Jungkook: Still an ass guy, btw.

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eternal-armin · 1 year

Text

ii. SO, HOW SHOULD i begin this?

part two woo. hopefully i'll be able to catch up on this and maybe publish some other stuff now that i'm home a lot more often (yay pain and mobility issues), maybe some arcane stuff since that would be fun, branching out into my last hyperfixation again lol. i've proofread so it should be good :>

pairing : five hargreeves x male/transmasc reader [he/him pronouns]

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where : after trying and sort of succeeding to get on the hargreeves' good side, five and [y/n] try rationalizing the situation and figuring out something, anything, to do about it.

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warnings : mentions of trauma, threats [of physical violence and murder], reader is still totally exhausted because how could he not be, depression, dissociation, pain, bits of shouting, not necessarily a warning but viktor is always viktor in the multiverse because the boy deserves it okay, existentialism, philosophical nihilism, family issues.

five adjusted his clothes in the mirror. although he wouldn't be able to have a proper retirement, he could look like a retired old man, couldn't he? who would've thought that someone could get so excited for beiges and tans. he got an amused look of subtle approval from you. beyond that, it wasn't very hard to look past your façade if he was being honest, you looked hesitant; though could he blame you? there were probably millions of worlds where his family fucked you over or just straight-up killed you. and yet, you also looked too tired to care. he couldn't blame you for that, either.

he touched your shoulder again. in a flit of light, which once again made you feel horribly nauseated and woozy, you were downstairs. surprised exclamations roused from his family.

"anyone know where vanya and allison are?" five asked, glancing with narrowed eyes across the lacking table.

"nope." and after that short reply diego went back to finishing off his meal—for someone who often scarfed his meals down, he seemed to be taking his sweet time. either that or your fun conversation with five had not taken as long as you'd thought; either possibility was equally likely at this point, really.

"nuh-uh... sorry."

"not a clue, unfortunately. something wrong, tiny dancer?" klaus asked.

"well, we have a new problem."

"who's this guy?" luther pointed at you wish his thumb, not caring to cover his mouth; your nausea was worsened to see someone talking whilst eating. diego looked at you then, and you hated how his glare bore straight through your soul. he really, really didn't seem to appreciate your presence. how both of them could so willingly ignore the phrase 'we have a problem,' especially from five, was unknown to you.

"this is [y/n]. he's one of the sparrows."

you waved once to everyone. whether the sluggishness of the motion, and the weak smile which accompanied it, was due to shyness or exhaustion was incredibly murky and unclear.

"so now we're getting all buddy-buddy with the enemy? do you know how stupid that is?"

"i'm sorry, diego, did you not hear me say that we have a problem?"

"well, you say that a lot, little brother!" klaus leaned forward to see you clearer, giving you a smile. it didn't really placate your anxieties or your strong desire to run, however it was appreciated. he waved, and you again waved back politely, still feeling very... guilty for your earlier flub. it wasn't a new thing, either, and that made you feel even worse. "hello, little enemy! how do you look so young? do you use those, like, '10 years younger' face creams? i didn't know they worked that well—"

"that is not a relevant question, klaus, now can someone please tell me where allison and vanya are?"

you cleared your throat slightly. "vanya is most likely getting a haircut. allison is trying to get to claire, but she's... not going to find her." it left a bitter taste in your mouth to refer to viktor in such a disrespectful way, but you couldn't take that from him. upon receiving suspicious stares from the younger hargreeves brothers, you mumbled a quiet "maybe."

"mind telling us what the hell is going on before i deck this mini-muffin across the lobby?"

"hey, hey, do not use mini-muffin as an insult! those are beautiful things, there's nothing better than mini-muffins when you're on a bender at, like, three in the morning!" klaus got a confused and heavily judgmental look in return for that... beautiful insight.

"[y/n] has the ability to see all other timelines, so he can usually find out the most probable events. okay? good. now i need to find allison, so can one of you fetch vanya, please?"

"no, not good, and no thanks! after all we've gone through, we deserve a proper explanation!" klaus objected. after a second or two of awkward silence, and a scowling glare from five, he gave in with a curt sigh. it sounded more like a groan. the brothers looked at you; klaus was the only one to seem patient, showing the approval of a parent understanding a kid's fear of giving a speech; luther stared at you with a puzzling mix of intrigue and subtle impatience; and diego stared at you with a raised eyebrow, leaning his head in slightly as if to say 'i'm waiting.' five's glare, although still quite characteristic, was a bit softer when aimed at you. you could never feel more put on the spot.

"you've gotta say something, little man, we can't read your mind," klaus encouraged.

"well, uh... i don't know exactly what it is yet, but something is wrong."

"aren't you omniscient or some shit? you can see literally every reality!"

the shouting scared you quite a bit and certainly made your headache worse. you put one of your hands to your head, mumbling, wishing you could just get some painkillers. if only five had given them back.

"don't shout, for fuck's sake," five grumbled, annoyed in his own right.

"i'm not omniscient. if no other worlds know something, then i can't, and... no other world knows yet. but something is wrong." your quiet voice was juxtaposed to diego's, still loud and stubborn like back in the academy. around 79.4 percent of every single alternate world which had diego in it found him like this, angry and short-tempered; it was very interesting. "you aren't supposed to be here. you guys, as you are, don't exist here. i don't think reality appreciates you showing up all of a sudden. and if versions of yourselves already exist in this world, then something will need to... iron out the wrinkles, i guess." you pursed your lips for a second. "not to be too brash or anything, but, to really, really dumb it down, you're a mis—you're mistakes."

"seriously? five, i thought you said that this timeline would be safe to stay in." luther looked like a scolded puppy. you felt bad. he was far too sweet—naive? yes, naive—for this kind of life.

"yes, that's what i thought, but second opinions are pretty valuable in my line of expertise. turns out it was sorely needed." his brows pricked up a few times while he spoke. "but, like you said before, it may be a problem we can solve."

diego remained, unsurprisingly, unswayed. "you better not be including this wad of chewed gum in that 'we,' five."

"what is with you and insulting him? he wants to help. jesus christ."

"last time i checked, his entire family just kicked our asses out of our own house, i have a right to be pissed, and he's lucky i'm in no killing mood."

"i don't agree that he should be killed," luther began in solidarity, "but we have a reason not to trust him, right?"

you took a little breath and exhaled it in a quiet sigh. "i know my family can be... extreme. and bad sometimes. trust me. and i totally understand how you can be angry with them and with me and think that i'm not honest. but i never hurt anyone, and i want to help you guys. you're eccentric yourselves, but usually you're good people. you're, like, an actual family," you added, trailing off, "not a group forced to stay together for monetary gain."

five squinted at you slightly. was that one of the reasons you chose not to grow up? you couldn't be associated with the sparrows if you were half their age. throw on a pair of sunglasses and nobody could recognize you.

jeez. didn't that sound nice.

"you guys really deserve a place to rest. a stable place to live, even. and if we can figure this out, then maybe you won't have to live in constant fear of coming into contact with your doppelganger or something. live, like, normal lives. as normal as they can be, anyway."

diego, much to your surprise, seemed to listen to what you were saying. sure, he still looked quite ticked-off and impatient, but you couldn't really ask for too much from him, could you?

"and you're sure that this is a problem we can actually solve? for good?"

"i'm not exactly sure what the problem even is yet. all i know is that something is wrong. but every problem has a solution, even if it seems impossible sometimes." there was a twinge of sage, melancholic hopelessness somewhere in there, some subtle disbelief. "five is quite the expert in timelines and time travel-related problems and paradoxes, and i'm an expert in alternate realities and manipulating reality itself. if anyone can figure it out, i'm sure we can. and i have no doubt that all of you will also play large parts."

luther's face was screwed into an expression of brazen confusion. "so... we're, like, completely blind, and need to fight an enemy we know absolutely nothing about."

"pretty much," you mumbled.

"surprisingly poetic way to put that, luther, i'm impressed," five mused rather sarcastically. "unfortunately, however, it seems we're gonna have to do something terrible and unprecedented." perhaps for dramatic effect, perhaps to quell his own annoyances, he paused and sighed out a breath. "we're going to have to work together." he did not need to specify the parties specified in 'together.'

"well, personally, i think this is a splendid idea. perfect opportunity for family bonding, i'd say! we're surrounded by decent chinese food and competent beds and cable television. decent music, too! and diego can finally figure out some self-discipline by not constantly threatening to kill [y/n]! marvelous idea little ones." admittedly, klaus's unique way of talking and gesturing was quite calming to you. you were very grateful for him. oddly enough—maybe you should've stopped saying that when it came to the umbrellas—klaus seemed to be that pillar of tranquility for you. viktor as well.

"calm down, calm down. you know that he won't turn against us or whatever? you're sure?"

the question was directed at five but you answered for him. "i'm not strong and i've never been in good health. even christopher, without his powers, would be better at fighting you than i would."

"the fucking cube?" you nodded. he plastered a grin over a pouting scowl. he sighed, giving into the plan. perhaps some remaining distrust still lingered, however, he could deal with it. "we've gotta clue allison and vanya in now. i'll go get vanya."

"finally," five huffed, shaking his head. "i'm going to find allison. you said she's going to try and find claire? i'll go to her old house." and then, the next second, he was gone. a few seconds of... incredibly awkward silence passed, where luther was staring at you whole-heartedly.

"go on and take a seat, young whipper-snapper. do you have any dietary restrictions? or allergies? we've probably got something here you can eat, if you want."

you had asked to walk back home with five.

"why with me?" "it's a little bit selfish, but i really don't want to be alone right now, and you're the number one person i trust right now." "flattering," he muttered. "then why walk?" "i think better when i walk."

admittedly, walking was taxing for you right now, so it may not have been your brightest idea, but after this entire day you needed a nice break; the picturesque city sunset was nice, the breeze was subtle and sweet, and it smelled like food out there on the streets. viktor had offered to talk with marcus and try to make a deal; you'd asked him to be very, very careful. "i don't know if purposely seeking out the anomaly would be more effective, or if allowing it to reveal itself would be better. maybe we should seek it out."

five nodded slightly. "allowing it to reveal itself could mean that it becomes too powerful to stop."

"that's kind of what i was thinking. we don't know how it would reveal itself. what if it destroys something, or changes something? what if it hurts people?" your voice was quieter with that last proposition. it was the worst possible option in your mind; buildings could be rebuilt. changes could be undone, with enough time and patience. but people could not be undamaged, and they could not be brought back to life.

well, not permanently, anyway.

five's pace slowed a bit and he peered at you, strangely, for a moment. you avoided his eyes.

"surprisingly enough, i don't think this is the... worst outcome." "forgive me but i don't really believe you. we've got jack all on either side. essentially, we're alone." "you're used to it, five." "hmph. and you aren't?" "not in this way, i guess." there was more he wanted to say but you would not give him the opportunity to dig too deep. "there are worlds where your family is on board. trusts me, even, after some convincing. and there are also some where we narrow the options down. i'd love to be in one of those. but at least we aren't at each other's throats again, or diego's choking me to death." your voice soured. if you got too close, you could feel that pain. there your mind went then, trying to save your other selves out of some ethereal desperation you could never claw yourself away from.

"ow!" you hissed, clapping a hand to your neck where it had stung, sharp and sudden. "what was that?"

"you were seriously so spaced out you didn't see me?" five asked, though it barely sounded like a question. he sounded just barely concerned. you had looked like a glove without a hand. "jeez," he scoffed, shaking his head. "did you see anything helpful, at least? anything at all?"

your mind was still seared and shattered across uncountable realities and he could see that struggle to ground in your eyes. hear it in your breath. you had little mental fortitude left to respond. "sorry? can you repeat that?"

five didn't roll his eyes. unfortunately, he knew dissociation. he carefully took your hands in his, rubbing your knuckles like he'd seen you do before, and that seemed to give you... some amount of usable energy. it was also sort of difficult not to notice him, of all people, doing it, even while he sported an expression of general distaste for the situation; you couldn't tell if it was falsified or not. slowly, you were returning to your body, and it felt heavier than ever before. "what did you see?" he repeated, just as you asked, meticulously annunciating each word and using a decent pace.

you nodded slightly. "i saw a few other timelines. less fortunate ones." you didn't need to elaborate for five to understand what you were referring to. the broad strokes, anyway. "nothing really useful, though," you added after a second in total defeat.

"shit. well, that's alright." and though it clearly wasn't, you didn't say anything.

"how long have we been standing here?"

"... a minute or two."

"oh, great," you mumbled, shaking your head to yourself. your record was around two hours, sure, but it still sucked. "the... we should seek it out."

"wow. you remembered."

"we were having the same conversation a whole lot. given i was still alive and actually grew to trust you." it was a half-joke but it succeeded in getting a bare grin out of five. "we can't risk hurting other people."

"or destroying something," five added.

"or destroying something," you agreed, then furrowing your brow slightly. a cafe nearby was playing pleasant music; that was something keeping you tethered to this world in particular, as if five wasn't enough, but even he was quiet sometimes. "the only problem is we don't know where it is."

"or what it looks like. if it even looks like something at all. it could very well be invisible or incomprehensible." he scowled for a second, though not out of irritation, thinking rather loudly to himself. "we should start where we appeared, i think." you nodded in agreement. "if your... 'family' decides to work with us, all of us, then we can search a whole lot more. but we should get the basics out of the way."

"the beginning is always the most logical place to start."

"quaint way to put it, did you write the sound of music in another universe?"

"what part about 'literally any possible, feasible universe' do you not understand?" you joked, managing a small smile of your own, and five would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little bit relieved to see you humoring yourself again.

"i deserve that." he paused for a second. "i know you said that walking helps you think, and you definitely need to do that more, but you look like a dead man standing right now. i'd rather just drop you off at the academy and get back to my own family. are you okay to teleport?" you did not respond at first, taking careful account of how you felt and how you may feel after. eventually, and rather subtly, you nodded.

"my room is klaus's old room back in your universe."

"wow, that... makes it easier. safer, probably." that was the closest you were going to get to 'thank you' so you took it. you shut your eyes tight and breathed deep through that half-second nausea-bomb. you were happy to see your room when you opened your eyes; smelling like home, looking like home, feeling like pure comfort. five glanced about your room. somehow it looked exactly like what he expected from you, which was a compliment. it was cozy. well-lived—especially the bed. there were many blankets and pillows and a few stuffed animals, unmade, probably because you barely left it. he couldn't blame you, either.

looking at you, you seemed totally relieved and excited to be back home.

"are you going to let go of my hands now?"

five stiffened for a second, mumbling a hushed apology before letting go, shoving his hands in his pockets. you couldn't help but grin a little, tiredly, and he scoffed when he saw it. "don't look at me like that. i was helping you ground, since you evidently can't do it yourself sometimes." not that he could blame you, really. he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be... you.

you ignored the jab. "i'm surprised you're willing to wait to take care of this," you mumbled, hanging up your scarf and sweater, lazily rifling through your dresser to find something decently comfortable to pass out in. "you always insisted on getting things done quick. if not immediately."

"i'm desperate for one damn moment of peace. the world isn't being decimated just yet. i just want to sleep decently for once."

you smiled slightly. no one could work while exhausted, especially not when it came to your quandary. "go on and sleep then. i'll meet you at the obsidian again tomorrow."

"yeah. oh, uh, just remembered something. close your eyes for a few seconds."

"why?"

"just do it."

you scoffed, though without any sort of animosity or annoyance, shutting your eyes tight like he told you to. you heard the familiar sound of his blinking once, twice. "alright. you can look. here." he held out to you your bottle of painkillers. "nearly forgot to give them back."

"oh, sh—thank you." the relief on your face was quite plain and sort of comforting as well. he mustered a slight hum in response.

"good night."

"night, five. sleep well."

"hmph. we'll see."

#number five #five x you #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #five x y/n #five x male reader #tua x reader #tua x male reader #tua x y/n #tua x you #the umbrella academy s3 #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x male reader #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua netflix

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lumberjerk · 2 years

Text

This is my big "what the fuck is going on with Swatch and Spamton" post. It's a little long (sorry). In the game, Swatch implies that Spamton imitated him, specifically as part of his plan to gain access to the basement and take the NEO robot.

Swatch also shows that he isn't free to divulge details about these things and tries to misdirect and change the subject a few times, after accidentally revealing too much.

Swatch's use of the word "suitable" is also interesting to me, but I might make a separate post about that

When spoken to after the battle with Spamton NEO, Swatch tells a little more of his side of the story.

Even though the NEO robot was unused "trash" Swatch seems filled with regret over its existence and its wasted potential with the line "...but, in the end, nothing ever came of it."

It's somewhat reminiscent of the regret in Spamton's final monologue takes before he turns into Dealmaker: "It seems after all I couldn't be anything more than a simple puppet."

Swatch also reveals that he is aware of some aspects of Spamton's plans, his "twisted dreams."

How much does Swatch know about what happened to him? How much did Spamton tell him about what was happening to him before he was evicted? This is something I would be very interested to know.

Swatch's shop dialogue seems to imply Swatch feels used by Spamton. Swatch was fooled into thinking Spamton was trying to be his friend, got close to him to learn about the mansion, Queen, and the robot, and then tried to steal it. (And later succeeded.) Swatch's rare use of exclamation in "...that crooked salesman!" highlights his vexation.

This is easy to accept at face value since its in line with Spamton's desperate motivation to be uploaded into the NEO robot in-game, HOWEVER, the sweepstakes Q&A really shook things up because from Spamton's perspective things happened quite differently...

Spamton seemed offended or confused (or both) at the suggestion that his change of style was part of his scheming. Spamton saying that Swatch stole HIS look, later clarifying that he "stole it back" from him, implies that maybe Swatch didn't always dress in black and white, or that both of them dressed similarly for a while on purpose, but changed back at some point after disassociating from one another. This isn't to say that Spamton did not at one time try to disguise himself as Swatch, but that there's more complexity to the origin of their monochrome look than meets the eye.

Spamton's comment also reveals that he considered Swatch to be a close friend and confidant when he lived in the mansion, who listened to him and comforted him, but Swatch's loyalty to Queen strained their relationship when his status fell and he was eventually evicted. This contrasts with Swatch's view expressed to Kris, that Spamton was merely using him as a means to an end. Swatch's own line "to think he was once a valued customer..." is even referenced in Spamton's reply, "to think he once pretended to be my friend," (etc)

Spamtons response is so interesting because it casts doubt on the reliability of Swatch's in-game dialogue. Swatch and Spamton seem to be operating on two different versions of what happened. It's very hard to say who the more reliable narrator is. Spamton often exaggerates and his meaning is sometimes obfuscated due to his glitches, but Swatch is being crushed under 300 layers of Forced Professionalism.

Swatch thinks Spamton was faking their friendship for selfish gain, while Spamton thinks Swatch was faking their friendship because he failed to prove his loyalty to Spamton as his friend was stronger than his loyalty to Queen (which is a lot to expect from a BUTLER, but nevertheless...), noting that "in the end" he only listens to her. From Spamton's perspective, before his elite status changed, his friendship was real.

'Easels' is likely a reference to Swatch, since an easel holds a canvas (in Swatch's case, a digital canvas). CRT's could either be a reference to Queen or Tenna since both non-modern monitors and televisions use cathode-ray tubes, but its worth noting that he says Easels first.

Swatch repeatedly expresses reluctant compliance and exasperation with Queen's many and unusual requests in his shop dialogue, so his sense of duty to her is very strong, despite his weariness with her. Post Chapter 2, though, this isn't something Swatch needs to worry about, since she isn't a ruling Queen anymore. She's just Queen.

I will be very interested in seeing how Swatch's character develops as more Deltarune chapters are released. I don't know if he and Spamton will be able to become friends again or to reconcile post-chapter 2, but I would like to see more interactions and backstory reveal regarding these two in the future, especially considering the Q&A's suggestion that there is an unresolved misunderstanding between them. They share a lot of parallels such as: inability to act freely, not being able to speak directly, wasted potential/ruined dreams, and old regrets, aside from their similar monochrome + limited color designs. both spamton and swatch stand out physically from their peers of the same species. spamton is white while the other addisons are colorful. swatchlings change color like mood rings, but swatch is not shown to do this. not to mention both characters are shorter than their peers, which makes me hope that their connection will continue to remain relevant. There's certainly more that I could say, but I'll leave it here for now. These are mostly the things I wanted to cover that have been swirling around in my mind since the Q&A lore reveal.

#deltarune #spamton #swatch #swatchton #im sorry if this seems like im reading too much into nothing but my brain is like a trained bloodhound for subtext so

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anxiousgaypanicking · 7 months

Text

Collar

Anxceit (Virgil x Janus) Hypnovember 2020 Day Nine: Collar Warnings: hypnosis, minor footjobs, sex, hair pulling

"No."

"No?"

Virgil eyes the collar skeptically, hissing as Janus bounces it up and down, allowing the bell to jingle.

"Why would I humiliate myself by wearing... by wearing... that!?" His voice cracks as his exclamation makes Janus dramatically flinch, and then wipe nonexistent spit off his face.

Sighing, Janus lowers the choker. Thick, black, and with purple spikes and the cutest purple bell.

He pouts, jutting his bottom lip out. "Because you'd look so cute in it," Janus reasons, as he pulls Virgil closer by his chin. "It'd compliment your pale skin so well. And you're no stranger to wearing chokers!"

"It's not a choker, Janus," Virgil replies, ripping his face from Janus's hands. "It's a collar. Don't call it something it isn't."

Janus grins.

He finds a new angle. "Alright, then. You're no stranger to soft touches, gentle caresses, and my smooth voice in your ear, are you?"

Virgil shifts against the mattress, face suddenly going pink.

"That's true," Virgil mutters, avoiding Janus's eyes suddenly. Janus takes the opportunity to take Virgil's chin into his hands again, thumbing over his bottom lip as he guides Virgil to look at him once more.

"Then you're no stranger to trust."

Virgil looks a lot less skeptical as he melts into Janus's hands. "Yeah."

"You're your most vulnerable when we're together. When you allow me to treat you intimately. You succumb easily to my voice, and you trust me. Besides, you usually have fun whenever I introduce something new."

Bottom lip jutting out in a pout, Virgil whines. "But... but this is so degrading."

"Like you aren't used to a little bit of degradation," Janus replies, rolling his eyes. And, well, Virgil unfortunately has to admit Janus has a point.

But to emphasize that point, Janus slowly starts to lean closer. "Trust me," he begins, voice smooth, "I know what's best for you. I know that you'll enjoy putting this on. I know that you'll enjoy listening to me, just like you always enjoy listening to me. I know that you're starting to feel tired of fighting against this pretty little collar, which you admittedly want to wear anyway." Janus's finger slowly trails down the side of Virgil's face, until it falls past his chin. "I know you're starting to feel tired. Don't you feel tired, Virgil? "

Virgil whines again, hands grabbing the bottom of his shirt, which he promptly fidgets with. "I... I guess..." It feels as if all of a sudden he's overcome with a wave of drowsiness. His eyes ache to close.

But still, he keeps them open, as Janus sighs and softly goes "good, good."

"I know you're secretly looking for a way to admit to me that you want to wear the collar while still keeping your dignity. I know you're waiting for me to put it on you anyway. I know you're itching to feel the clamp close behind your neck, and hear the bell jingle. Because I know that you know with each little jingle of the bell, you'll feel more and more pleasure. With each little jingle of the bell, you'll feel hot, and mindless, and most of all, blissful. Don't you want to feel blissful?"

"I... I.."

"Don't you want to feel mindless?"

"I-"

"Don't you want to feel pleasure burning throughout your body until you're sweating, aching, and desperate for release, of which only I can give you?"

"Yes- yes!" Virgil finally gasps, rocking back and forth slightly where he sits. Janus's smile widens.

"Good, good," he praises. "Good boy. Now, can I put this collar on you? Answer me honestly; I'll know if you lie."

Yes.

Affectionately, Janus pinches Virgil's cheek, moving his head side to side dramatically without any resistance.

"Now.. sleep."

And with a wave of his hand, Virgil falls back onto the bed, slumping hard against the mattress. His hair spreads out around him, framing his relaxed features in a pretty portrait.

***

Virgil wakes up relaxed.

He slides out of bed, only for the bell around his neck to jingle as his knees hit the floor. Immediately, heat seeps into his mind, blissful mindlessness crashing down over his body. He drifts side to side, before Janus's name fills his mind.

Janus. Janus. Janus.

Humming, Virgil leans over and stretches, chest pushing into the ground as his ass sticks into the air. His fingers dig into the ground and flex, before footsteps travel towards the room.

Immediately, Virgil perks up, head cocking to the side as his eyes focus on the underside of the door, watching as two objects obscure the light from outside. The jostling of the doorknob draws his attention towards there instead, and he watches as the door itself is suddenly opened.

"Ah, you're awake," Janus coos, and Virgil feels vibrations running through his body. Was he... purring?

The short answer was no; it was a trick of the mind. But to Virgil, yes, he was purring. He was purring out of excitement and affection, moaning softly when Janus crouches down and gently runs his fingers through Virgil's hair.

Janus can't help but muse to himself at the utterly adorable way Virgil s eyes roll back into his head at the touch. Because, to him, he's being pet by his owner. And it feels so good to get attention from him. So very good.

"There we go... see? You're much better when you're eager and stupid." Janus's voice is soft and teasing, but it results in another moan slipping past Virgil's lips.

It's clear he doesn't understand what Janus is saying at all, but that's exactly what Janus wanted.

Cooing, Janus scratches under Virgil's chin, before he shifting his position and attempting to get comfortable. He moves to sit on the edge of Virgil's bed, and watches as Virgil - who's surprisingly clingy - move to attempt to crawl onto the bed after him.

But, he pulls an adorably confused face when Janus stops him instantly, planting a hand on Virgil's forehead and gently pushing him back down to the floor.

"Awww, silly boy, don't you remember?" Janus lightly chastises, waving his pointer finger in Virgil's face. "Pets aren't allowed on the furniture. You'll just make a mess! You have to be a good boy and follow the rules."

Virgil's mind feels hazy. Rules? Vaguely, he recalls something about rules. A set of rules that he's supposed to follow, burned somehow into the back of his mind.

He knows he's not supposed to get on the bed, and obediently he stops trying almost instantaneously, but he still wants it!

He lets out a soft whimper of complaint, almost mewling in abandonment from Janus simply being on a different surface than him. Meekly, he rubs his hand over Janus's leg in order to convince his owner to pay attention to him, but he can't do anything but whine softly when Janus decides to ignore him in favor of flicking on the television instead.

Casually, Janus pulls his legs back onto the bed, and makes himself comfortable atop Virgil's weighted blanket.

Virgil whines again, trying to paw at the side of the bed and peek over the edge, straining to see his owner, but when he lets out a needy moan, Janus just softly shushes him.

"Behave," Janus commands him, sparing Virgil a singular glance, "and maybe I'll play with you."

He also has a nice treat he can give Virgil later, if he earns it, of course.

Submissively, Virgil slumps towards the ground, defeated and lonely.

He stretches over the soft carpet flooring, rolling in it briefly, before fully flexing his body, pressing his chest to the floor as his ass raises in the air. To him, it's an innocent action, mindlessly attempting to work out the aches in his body, but Janus can't help sneaking a look towards Virgil and immediately thinking perverse thoughts.

He can tell that Virgil's feeling neglected from a few mere minutes of neglect, and while it's amusing, it's definitely pitiful.

Subtly, Janus moves his hand to his crotch, and rubs slowly through the fabric while just watching Virgil curl up on himself.

He'd been stripped down while in his trance, of course.

While his pretty little head was being filled with mantras and desires, his body was being exposed until his boxers were all that remained, barely hiding the hard cock that strained against the fabric, messily spilling precome over the front. It's taking a lot of willpower to keep Janus's hands off of him.

Right now, Virgil's nothing but a stupid, obedient pet. He's just doing a normal cat stretch! He has no idea that he looks like such a whore, sticking his ass in the air and showing off his achingly hard cock... too adorably dumb to process that his owner is touching himself while watching him lazily paw against the floor.

With Virgil's clouded mind, his awareness of time is distorted, and every minute Janus ignores him feels like hours, making him mewl.

He continues stretching until he inevitably ends up rolling onto his back, legs spread and slightly curled upwards towards his chest, once more unintentionally showing off his body. His bulge strains against his boxers, as if enticing Janus to torture it. And Janus has never been one to ignore an opportunity.

Suddenly caught off guard, Virgil gasps when Janus's socked foot comes into contact with his bulge, making him whimper and roll his hips upwards, attempting to grind against Janus's sole.

"Aww, such a cute little kitten," Janus coos, mockingly. He drags his foot roughly over Virgil's cock, listening to him moan stupidly, as drool rolls down his chin. "How am I supposed to resist the urge to play with you when you act like this?"

Virgil smiles, as his scrambled mind interprets Janus's tone as a compliment, arching his back as he moans again, delighted by the half-hearted pleasure. As his head falls back, the bell attached to his collar jingles, which just makes Virgil giggle stupidly.

Janus slowly pulls out his cock in the process, beginning to stroke himself while lazily rubbing Virgil's crotch, which is amazing to the pet who can't remember how good it is to receive proper pleasure anyway.

Unfortunately, that pleasure leaves him all too soon, as Janus pulls his foot away, emitting a needy cry from Virgil.

Desperation and confusion immediately crosses Virgil's face, as the poor thing doesn't understand why the pleasure has suddenly stopped.

Pathetically, he looks up at Janus, who he knows is in charge. He wants to feel good again, and obviously his master knows how to make him feel such. His master knows everything! And so, Virgil sits himself up, and scoots closer to Janus, pawing at his leg while his hips roll against the floor absentmindedly, as Virgil's body rushes to give him the pleasure he was suddenly deprived of.

"Silly pet," Janus tsks, as he reaches down to pet Virgil's hair. "I can't possibly give you pleasure with those boxers in the way. What on earth are you still doing with those on?" Janus then lightly tugs Virgil's hair, making him cry out. "Pets don't wear human clothes; you should know better by now. Get them off and out of the way, lest you want to be punished."

His hand travels further after a moment, and flicks the bell around Virgil's collar, watching as Virgil's eyes cross momentarily, before Virgil's looking back down at his own crotch, stupidly staring at his underwear.

Obviously, Janus left Virgil's boxers on purposely, but Virgil doesn't need to know that, and he's too mindless to question him at all.

Clumsily, Virgil immediately tries to take them off, but his fingers don't seem to cooperate. Why would they? It's not like little kittens have opposable thumbs.

Virgil gets all teary eyed with frustrations as he attempts to push his boxers off, hardly even managing to get them past his thighs. Janus watches him struggle for a moment, before finally with sheer desperation Virgil manages to kick them off. He hisses at them after, as if his own incompetence wasn't the thing preventing him from an easier removal.

Janus can't help but laugh, pressing the back of his knuckles to his mouth as he does so, hiding the majority of his amusement.

"Oh, aren't you adorable," Janus then muses, as he reaches forward and grabs Virgil's cheeks, pinching and petting them as Virgil - who's initially still grumpy - melts into the affection, purring softly after a moment as his eyes flutter shut.

They quickly snap back open, however, as Janus pulls him onto the bed.

"This is a privilege," Janus warns, waving his finger in Virgil's face, as Virgil meets his eyes, desperate for approval. "If you misbehave, you'll be set right back on the floor. Do you understand?"

Virgil meekly mewls in response, making Janus soften as he scratches under Virgil's chin, which has Virgil smiling immediately, his brain once again pouring out his ears.

Scooting back on the bed, Janus stops Virgil from crawling closer to him in order to make sure he has space to pull his own clothes off. He undoes every clasp with a slow, teasing demeanor, making Virgil shift impatiently as he once again feels neglected.

As soon as Janus is stripped though, he's beckoning Virgil closer.

Once again petting his face, Janus quietly asks "do you want to be good, kitten? Would you like a treat?"

Virgil immediately nods and moans affirmatively, making Janus smile.

Janus grabs a nearby bottle of lube, and takes his time pouring some into his hand, and then stroking Virgil's cock slowly. He plays it off as though he's just preparing Virgil, but Virgil moans and bucks his hips into the touch, shivering when Janus briefly squeezes around his base, before whining when Janus inevitably pulls away.

He then leans onto his back, bringing his thighs up to wrap around Virgil's pudgy waist. Virgil moves closer, closed fists bracing against either side of Janus's face as he waits for Janus to keep going, overly eager.

His eyes are wide, but clouded. All Virgil knows is to do what he's told. To submit. To obey.

"Go on and breed me, kitten," Janus then says, softly, barely above a whisper. He smiles wide when he watches Virgil's face go bright red, and doesn't miss the way he gulps. Was there a hint of nervousness that Janus's hypnosis failed to expel? Well, they couldn't have that.

Caressing Virgil's face, Janus's fingers slip behind Virgil's ear, and scratches softly, immediately triggering Virgil to go limp. His upper half falls against Janus's chest, drooling over his chest - a sensation that makes Janus cringe, but he supposes he can't hold Virgil accountable - as he pants.

"Wipe any thoughts you have out of your head, kitten," Janus commands him, quietly. "You shouldn't be thinking of anything other than pleasing your master, and your own enjoyment. If I feel good, you feel good, and when you feel good, you only want to make me feel even better."

While not normally permissible for a kitten to talk, Janus commands him to do so.

"When you feel good, I feel good," Virgil echoes, as he cements the words into his brain. "And when I feel good, I want to make you feel even better."

"Good. Good boy."

"When you feel good, I feel good..." Virgil pants, hips rolling as his cock grinds against Janus's own, humping mindlessly. "And when I feel good... I want you..."

Janus laughs softly. "Of course you want me. You need me. You'd be lost without me, kitten."

"I need you," Virgil breathlessly repeats, voice pitched up into a whine. "I need you, I need you, I need you."

"Then take me."

A quick snap near his ear and suddenly Virgil's moaning as he positions himself properly against Janus's hole, and then sloppily thrusts the tip of his cock in. His body rocks as he does so, causing his bell to ring, which just makes Virgil pant. He's messy, and drooling, face buried into Janus's neck as his cock pushes further into Janus's hole.

To him, this is more than a treat. It's amazing! His master is so nice to him. So good to him. And it makes Virgil feel good.

"Faster, pet," Janus breathlessly orders. "Don't keep me waiting."

Virgil whines apologetically, before leaving wet kisses over Janus's neck. He's quick to roll his hips, pushing his cock deeper and deeper until the base is nestled deep inside his owner.

Janus, face flushed, lightly tugs on Virgil's hair, pulling his face from the crevice of his neck in order to better see his pleasured expression.

A compliment lingers on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it repressed as Virgil moans at the rough treatment instead, thrusting his hips as that's what he interprets Janus as wanting. And when Janus gasps and arches his back off the bed, Virgil believes this assumption to be correct.

Moaning softly, Virgil bites his lip as he attempts to focus on pleasing his master, though he keeps getting distracted by the wet heat surrounding his own cock.

But he needs to go faster. He needs to go faster, to obey, to make his master feel good.

"I need you," Virgil pants, quietly. Mindlessly. "When you feel good... I feel good..."

He starts out thrusting slowly, pathetically trying to lift Janus's hips up to give him a better angle, as his bell is rocked back and forth. Every little jingle seems to ruin him further.

Virgil's hands twist into the bedsheets, grabbing and tightening before relaxing, as though he's trying to grasp something firm to ground him, but not really wanting to be grounded. He wants to lose his mind. He wants to be good.

"Good boy," Janus moans, as he pulls Virgil closer. "So good. Keep going, kitten." His voice fills Virgil's ears, flooding his mind. And Virgil looks so pleasured from the slow pleasure he's giving them both, though another pull to his hair gets him going quicker.

With rougher thrusts, Virgil's little grunts and mewls get more frequent, eyes squeezed shut as his mind focuses solely on pleasure. Whether his pleasure or Janus's is irrelevant, so long as somebody is moaning, he feels overwhelmingly good. It's amazing. It's mindless excitement that leaves his body burning with delicious heat and his brain scattered and messy.

His hips thrust hard against Janus's ass, forcing his cock in deeper and harder, making them both moan in unison.

Uttering a curse under his breath, Janus struggles to maintain his composure as he stares at Virgil with half-lidded eyes. He's sweaty, but very clearly excited and pleasured. With every thrust into Janus, Virgil looks orgasmic. Behind his closed eyelids, Janus can picture his eyes rolling back into his head.

And then Virgil hits his prostate.

Immediately, Janus's head is falling back with a cry, nails digging into Virgil's scalp and thighs squeezing around Virgil's waist, pulling him closer and holding him hard.

"Fuck!" Janus finally spills, clinging tight to the man above him. "Right there! Be good- be good and do that again!"

One of Virgil's eyes peek open to observe Janus's face, and Virgil moans when he sees it. His master looks so good. So pretty. Virgil is making him feel good, and seeing that - hearing him - makes Virgil moan as he leans over Janus, pushing their bodies together as he fucks him harder.

He's not aware enough to properly think about stimulating Janus's prostate, but the command bounces around his head nonetheless, giving his subconscious enough direction to obediently oblige.

Virgil watches Janus as he thrusts into him, watching him moan and squirm with each messy hump against him. He's doing so good!

His own abdomen is flooded with warmth, but he wouldn't be able to come even if he tried. Not that he can think enough to be bitter about that fact.

One of Janus's arms fall from Virgil's neck to his own cocks, both of which he attempt to touch and stroke despite the awkward, bent position he's in. He's getting close, and Virgil's too dumb to be able to touch him properly, so he'll take care of this part himself. Though, Virgil torturing his inner bundle of nerves does help quite a lot.

"So- so good, kitten," Janus gasps, and allows his eyes to stay shut as he listens to the lewd sounds of their skin slapping, Virgil's panting, and the bell jingling over and over as it's shaken by the movements of Virgil's body.

He's so close. He's so close, and Virgil just keeps going. Keeps roughly thrusting in and out of him, drooling all the while.

"Good," Virgil repeats, voice cracking. "Good, good, good-"

One more thrust to his prostate, and Janus is coming, making a mess of his hand and both his and Virgil's bodies. He's loud, moaning as he indulges in his climax, before relaxing fully. Until he realizes Virgil isn't stopping.

"Virgil-" Janus gasps, but Virgil cuts him off with another moan. His pace never falters, continuing to thrust hard and quick. He's scratching hard against the sheets, lips and chin wet with spit.

Janus whines with overstimulation, gently pushing Virgil's face in an attempt to get his attention. "Virgil! You're- you're doing so good. Don't you want to come, kitten? Go on and come for me." He's breathy and admittedly a bit desperate for Virgil to reap his reward and stop torturing Janus with the looming threat of another round.

Virgil's foggy mind is immediately overwhelmed with the idea of his orgasm, and so with a few final thrusts emphasized by stuttered moans, Virgil comes inside of Janus, further adding to the mess around them, before he pulls out.

Carelessly, he lets himself flop against Janus, back to making that nice, soft purring sound.

Janus lets him lay for a moment, before gently rolling Virgil off of him, and encouraging him to cuddle side-by-side instead, as to not smear their mess further. Though they will still have to clean up, at least Janus can wipe them down briefly with a piece of nearby clothing.

Virgil lets him do so, before his bell jingles as he wiggles up against Janus's side. Janus might wake up to Virgil bitching tomorrow, or trying to get the cute little collar off, but at least Janus knows he enjoyed himself, and that's all that matters.

#sanders sides #sanders sides smut #not safe for sanders #agp smut #anxceit #anxceit smut #sanders sides hypnovember

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fuh-saw-t · 2 years

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-How to Write Character Dialogue-

Part 2: Characterisation Boogaloo

One again beginning with the mandatory 'This is just my process with my writing style. I don't work on what is correct - I work on what I find is best in my opinion. You can take this advice, adapt it to your own style, stories and characters, etc'.

This post concerns the specifics of dialogue. The more open-ended advice can be found here, under the Macro-View.

The 'Micro-View'

Once again, I made that term up.

Every story, character, scene and method of presenting events, thoughts, feelings and expressions will inevitably be unique. Here, I'll explore different approaches, methods and considerations that you can take to heart whilst writing the dialogue of your characters.

Amount

In the writing of dialogue, your first consideration should be 'does this character need to say anything here?'

Oftentimes, I see dialogue which, if removed, has no change on ambience, the scene, character development, characterisation or any relevant interactions. Does your character need to input their opinion here? Not thinking of the usual 'who asked?' sort of way, but does it change, show or do anything? Do they need to exclaim "Woah!" or can that instead be described, or omitted entirely?

Too much useless character dialogue can sort of 'clog up' your page, if you get what I mean. What I'm referring to, however, in no means include things that you believe adds something to your character, a character relation, or the ambience and feel of the scene. I made a note of this in the previous post, but I felt this deserved an elaboration/secondary mention.

Emotions and Intensity

Dialogue in intense and emotional moments, especially in a dramatic scene, I think can do wonders. It serves to engage your reader and direct the scene, instead of just having people kick each other or cry. As dialogue should be separated through paragraphs at each person talking, it makes the scene move quickly - the reader reads it quickly, too. Kind of meta, isn't it?

Make use of syntax. Short sentences, pauses, ellipsis (the dots and omission kind), false starts, etc. All of these can show emotion and make your dialogue feel natural, without having to state it outright. E.g.

"I don't think this is working," he said. "It's not that I'm… ungrateful, that's just— that's not what I mean. We need to try something else, something new."

Not the best example I could give, but this post isn't exactly a Times Best Seller (as if that means anything).

Someone who is nervous ‐ for any reason, if they're in front of their crush, are experiencing fear, etc - may use a lot of these pauses and false starts. But it's good to remember not to overdo them. Read your text out loud. Seriously, it helps. Overusing pauses and false starts can really dampen their effect.

Also, people never stutter as much as you think they do, unless they have a speech impediment (which is perfectly valid, if that's a part of your character). Stuttering is fine, but don't overdo it nor use it in situations where it doesn't call for it, unless it's a recognised trait in your character. Even then, going "N-N-N-N-No" never looks good. Like, it genuinely doesn't look good on the page nor screen. Yes I do judge that.

Italics can also be used as emphasis to convey intensity. So can dashes. Use exclamation points wisely, punctuation marks can be easily overused.

As another note, please use description and character actions alongside emotive or intense dialogue. Dialogue is never separate to your descriptions nor your story. Think carefully about how you can use expressions, actions and descriptions of tones to further the feeling you're intending to show in your dialogue, or to change the meaning of what a character is saying in context.

Informal Speech and Accents

Popular character distinctions can involve the written display of slang, informal speech and accents. Personally, I adore these traits, as they can add character and insinuate things that do not have to be explicitly said; the use of informalities can really distinguish your character and make them memorable and unique.

But, as with everything, things can go horribly wrong (in my opinion).

Rule one of dialogue: don't get caught up trying to make your dialogue grammatically correct. It's not going to sound natural. Slang and general, everyday informalities may not be in many dictionaries nor will it be accepted by autocorrect or grammarly, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be in your writing. Different characters' uses of colloquialisms (such as, 'Heyo!' 'How's it hangin?' 'Darn it.') can add a certain quirk to them, whether this means they use general popular slang or no slang at all. Don't ever think of removing colloquialisms from a characters' dialogue for the sake of having correct grammar. This also goes for traits of AAVE. Use it when you see fit, whether or not conventional grammar agrees with it. All variations of English are valid. Moreover, I adore it when fantasy or other-world stories make their own unique slang, informalities or alternative vocabulary. It can say so much about the world they live in, and what some groups' ideologies are.

However, make sure you don't overdo the use of slang or divergent grammar and syntax. It's good to make your characters talk differently and have styles of speech that are distinct from one another, but what's even more important is that your reader can understand what you're writing. If you're using so much that someone has to have Urban Dictionary open while they read your story, that's not a good sign. This also goes for accents; it's sometimes beneficial to diversify speech, but if the spelling differences and grammatical changes get so prominent a reader can't read it or has to re-read to understand, you have a bit of a problem to correct. If they can't understand the dialogue, they don't understand your story. I've had to put multiple written works (published books, even) down because the use of slang and how they write in accents was so proficient I couldn't figure out what characters were saying.

Overall, I'd say not to write out accents (changing spelling with how words would be said). It can really make the dialogue unreadable, and can often turn out sounding like an offensive caricature.

Education

A common character dialogue difference which I also love is the distinctions between those who are educated and those who are not. Of course, this is very diverse among characters and can go beyond that black-and-white summary. A character's status may be at play, their ego, or even how they are educated - a character who is educated by people who value different things or hate another group may speak differently to one who is educated in another way.

Common distinctions made to show educational or cultural differences between characters include contractions and vocabulary.

Contractions (such as 'don't' or 'I'll') are something I often see absent in characters of high status or education. This, though often functional, can be overdone. I'll touch more on my other approach to this later, but the complete absence of contractions can make someone sound like a robot. Urgent situations may make even the most high-status, educated character use ellipsis (in the omission way, as referenced in the last post), contractions and other forms of shortening.

Moreover, in relation to vocabulary, the character may not use long words at every interval. They may be more articulate and expressive in their word choices, but that doesn't equate to using lesser-known or complicated words. If you want to diversify your character's vocabulary, though, always take into account pragmatics and general use, and if it sounds natural in the context. Again repeating to read your dialogue out loud and get a proofreader. It can save your writing, seriously.

On a mirroring note, if you're dealing with highly uneducated characters, be careful with how you present them. Just because someone is uneducated, or doesn't have an expansive vocabulary or a solid grasp of grammar, doesn't mean they're any less intelligent or expressive. The character may articulate their feelings in a different way, but that is not a lesser way. Let the character be creative with their words and how they lay them out. Remember that a lack of education in a character does not, in any way, equal stupidity.

Related: Educated characters who overuse big words in weird contexts sound dumber than any uneducated character ever will. Facts, ykno.

Character Limitations

There are a lot of ways you can accidentally limit the range of your character's expression through the writing of their dialogue. Here's things to look out for. And yes, these are all things I've seen before.

To do with typography (fonts, font sizes, bold and italics), I heavily advise against giving a character a distinctive typographic style of speaking. For example, doing this:

"I AM HERE!"

"HELLO!"

"What's the matter?"

This, in a way, limits your character extensively. A character who is consistently written to speak in all-caps or bolded lettering will always sound like they're yelling, and will not have room to express themselves in a more sympathetic, emotive or calm way. This is unless you forfeit the style, which is a problem in itself. It creates inconsistency: a writer's biggest downfall, in some cases. In fact, this use at all is inconsistent, as not all characters will have their dialogue written with the same method of typography. Also, it just kind of looks ugly on the page and can cause accessibility problems with those who have dyslexia or sight issues.

In addition to this, there is what I mentioned before to do with the use of contractions. A character who always sounds articulate and in use of an extensive vocabulary doesn't always have to be this way. Of course, they shouldn't break character, but if they're in a heavily-emotive situation where they don't have time to properly think out what they're saying, they're not going to speak as if they're reciting the Bible. There's nothing wrong with posh, well-spoken characters. It's just a matter of knowing how to diversify their own speech and having the confidence to explore other sides to their character through their dialogue.

This also goes for other characterisation decisions. You have a quiet character who speaks little, in small utterances? I love those character types! But don't limit their expression and characterisation by seeing that as the only thing they can do. An excited, wonderous character who asks a lot of questions and uses exclamatives often can have their quiet moments. An angry, usually violent character can become soft-spoken.

In fact, I'd say these changes in dialogue can really uplevel stories and characters. When a character changes their usual dialogue quirks (when the plot/scene calls for it), it can mark an incredibly pivotal and key point in their development and personality.

E.g, a rich, high-status character having a meltdown, swearing and mixing up their words; a quiet character talking for a long time to console their best friend on something they relate to; the excited character finally losing their spark and becoming serious when upset; an angry, violent character becoming docile when interacting or confessing to their crush. Choices in dialogue styles for different characters, depending on scenes and situations, can change the game entirely.

Overall, my advice in creating realistic, engaging and in-character dialogue that shows your character's distinct personality and characteristics is to read the dialogue out loud, don't bother too much about grammar and more about readability and get a proofreader or friend that'll be honest in their opinions to look over your story.

Even more, I'd highly recommend experimenting. This goes for everything in writing, honestly. Practise writing dialogue by writing conversations between your different characters, even if said conversations won't appear in your story. Practice writing scenes. Experiment with your style and how different characters talk. Lay out your characters personalities and think about how you can implement details into their speech that subtly show who they are and what they think. Consider punctuation - it matters more than you'd expect it to.

Grow your style at your own pace. Listen to constructive feedback, and openly search for people to show their opinions and give advice on your work. Make sure you understand your characters, their values and their quirks.

And, most importantly, have fun!

#creative writing #writeblr #ask blog #writing #writing advice #writing prompt #letsdiscuss

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profeyandere · 2 years

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𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐇. ─── ☾ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

Masterlist || The Office Masterlist || Wattpad

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Jim Halpert x Fem!Reader

Warning: Mentions of social anxiety

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

Your heart was beating faster than ever because, although you had tried to do your best to calm the nerves that Jim caused you with the smile that he had given you once you had entered the office, your little social anxiety disorder had made you put on extremely red to the point where Angela, when she saw you sitting at the desk next to hers, put on a mask and washed her hands with gel, explaining seconds later that she was doing it so you wouldn't catch whatever it was that you had. Once you showed her your little blackboard and raised it slightly so she could see it, she understood the situation better.

Now, barely an hour after what happened at the beginning of the day, you had been accompanied by Óscar to be able to buy your hot chocolate; maybe it wasn't the best drink to start September, but the cold was coming and you couldn't deny that you liked a little the drink from the machine that was in the office.

"Watch out. I'm coming!"

That exclamation made you jump from the spot you took a small jump in front of the drinks machine and, very slowly and with a slight tremor in your legs due to nervousness and fright, you turned to be able to see the white shirt in front of you that it was decorated by a black-tie, obviously coming from Jim Halpert, who was looking at you with a sly smile; Suddenly your cheeks turned a deep reddish hue that the salesman found adorable.

"Chocolate?" He asked, seeing how you looked away from him because of the tension between the two of you, so he quickly took a step back. "Sorry, I must be making you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to."

Jim, although he had tried that way to see if he could get you to talk to him, he only saw how your hands gripped the blackboard between them with more force, noticing how your knuckles turned whitish due to the force exerted. The fact that he noticed things as simple as your discomfort at closeness or maintaining eye contact made you that much more nervous.

"You can be calm with me. I'm not going to make you any jokes or anything like that, at least not in the way I do to Dwight," the brown-haired man murmured, putting his hands in his pants pockets, waiting for you to say something. "I'm not planning on putting your things in jelly or making you dye your hair, don't worry."

"Oh."

That monosyllable of yours was accompanied by a deep sigh that surprised him because, even though he had entered the break room just a few seconds ago, he hadn't made sure that you had held your breath since he had started having that little 'talk' with you, besides you didn't say anything else, and grabbed your little paper cup of chocolate before hurrying out of the room. Halpert didn't even have time to ask you to join him for coffee, but it was when he heard Oscar's dry laugh that he stopped feeling so confused.

"Well, at least we know that she's not mute," said the Mexican, who had watched the scene with amusement, with a small smile.

"Why would she be?" Jim asked. "She's shy. I guess she hasn't opened up to anyone enough, or she hasn't gotten to trust anyone."

"Well, it will be with you," interrupted Dwight, who had caused Jim to freak out due to his sudden appearance in the room. "She talks to me a lot, she looks at me with those big eyes that she has and she doesn't move a muscle while we talk. It's gratifying to meet someone like that."

"How long have you been there? And besides, who asked you for an opinion?" Halpert questioned again, seeing how his partner shrugged. "Okay, she's a shy woman who doesn't talk to everyone. We'll have to give her time."

"The truth is that she talks to everyone," Óscar intervened, confusing the salesman. "Ask to anyone. They can assure you that she has very pleasant conversations with others."

Jim, at this point, thought he was being taken for a ride.

You landed the accounting job after a quick interview with some of the higher-ups at the paper company, and from one day to the next, you appeared in the office as if you were a ghost, disappearing every few seconds and seeming to teleport thanks to the innate stealth that you had in you and how little you talked, and quickly everyone wanted to know where the new accountant came from. It was a horrible job for them to even start talking to you, you faded every time someone approached you and you ran away from the conversation as if someone was going to attack you, although that thought of yours did not surprise them either; Michael threw you a party, and Dwight, being the enthusiast that he is, gave you such a scare that your blood pressure dropped and you had to get laid on the floor.

Yes, indeed, on your first day, he gave you a drop in blood pressure due to a scare and, from that moment on, in every corner of the office, there were candies to keep you on your toes.

From that moment on, and during the following months until you reached your first year in the paper company, it was not easy to find you in the office, and that was relatively small because you went from one place to another to go around and not standing on the seat for a long time, and it was on one of your walks that Kelly finally got hold of you and forced you to listen to her for over half an hour and from then on and with a short chat with Toby, you tried to converse with your little fellows through a whiteboard that you had bought at the Saturday market.

Of course, that news didn't seem to reach all the employees, and Jim was the only one who never got an answer from you.

"Come on, guys, it can't be that she talks to everyone, and she hasn't said or written a word with me."

Dwight and Oscar looked at each other, for a brief moment, before looking back at Jim.

"I could swear I've seen her talk to everyone, Jim," said Oscar.

"I've even seen her talking to Creed," Dwight pointed out, shrugging as he smiled broadly when he realized you weren't interested in Jim. "Look how cute. You're jealous that she loves us and you don't."

"We don't talk. We usually play chess or checkers," Creed indicated that, to the surprise of the three of them, he was also in the break room. "Because we're talking about (Y/N), right?"

Halpert looked at the camera that, at that moment, was recording them and disappointment and confusion could be read on his face.

He knew that he had tried every possible way he could think of to get close to you from day one. He saw you so shy and small in his eyes that he couldn't help but have a tender feeling towards you, as well as being very worried when he saw that you were about to pass out after the scare Dwight gave you at your homecoming party, but he quickly found himself looking at your booth instead of at his computer screen or doing his usual sales job. His sales didn't decline, but everyone around him could notice a slight change in his mood and the tireless desire he had to talk to you at all costs.

Now, he understood that he was the exception on your list of people to talk to, he felt defeated.

He thought he was doing the right thing, and it seemed to be the opposite.

You, meanwhile, had gladly returned to your desk, placing your small glass on one end of the table before taking a seat and continuing with your work, but what might have turned into a quiet morning turned into quite the opposite when you saw the little mischievous smile with which Óscar returned, showing you curious about what had happened that made him so funny.

"My dear, I don't know how you did it, but you made Jim swallow his pride," he said, still smiling and staring into each other's eyes.

"About time someone did," Angela murmured. "He always walks around with an air of superiority and thinks that we are all going to have fun with his jokes."

You frowned slightly and looked at the Mexican for answers.

"You should have seen his face, but you had just left," Oscar whispered as he looked over his shoulder at the salesman who was returning with Dwight to the office, the first having a serious face and the second with a huge smile that was growing at the same time. He had said things close to her ear that seemed to irritate Halpert the most. "You haven't talked to him in the time you've been working in the office, and he hasn't taken it personally, but he sure has taken it personally."

You quickly propped your whiteboard up on the table so you could write on it.

"Explain yourself, please."

"What I'm saying is that you've talked to everyone, in some way you've opened up, and you've completely passed over Jim," he commented.

"But don't worry, it's completely normal," Angela intervened as she placed her hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to talk to him, you don't want to end up like Pam."

Honestly, it was never your intention to make Jim feel so bad or left out, and you didn't think he wanted to talk with you as much as he did with the receptionist or with other colleagues.

For you, Jim had stood out among all your co-workers not only for being the most handsome or charismatic but for the good heart he had and that he disguised under a huge layer of jokes that he spent on Dwight, although later he did show concern for him just like when he had the concussion. Halpert had been a sun from the moment he met you, and he didn't get close precisely for fear that you would leave as you had in the beginning, and let's say that silly crush you had had from the moment you held him so close during your low blood pressure on your first day of work had caused you to get away from him as soon as possible.

You had social anxiety and you were in love, or you liked him.

It was a strange outfit but, it had prevented you from being close to his person and hence you couldn't talk to him.

You knew the time would come, you thought you might need up to five years to get close to him, but seeing him at his desk with a frown, his hands restless and his eyes slightly clouded with anger or sadness had given you a feeling of anguish that you knew you would not easily shake off; it was Jim, it shouldn't be that hard to ask him to speak in private.

"Jim."

That whisper surprised the salesman who, confused and a little frightened by the way his name had come out of your lips, slowly turned around in his seat to be able to meet yours, thus also surprising the rest of the employees when they saw that you had taken the first step to talk to someone, of course when they saw how your belly seemed to stop its breathing movement they went blank, starting to worry when they saw how red you were getting.

"Jim," Pam called, who, equally worried, had come over to you. "Take her out of it, let her get some air."

"Yeah, of course."

Halpert quickly escorted you out of the office, and though he intended to take the elevator to speed you up, he watched in confusion as you turned away from him and headed for the stairs, closing the door behind you without letting him escort you. He didn't understand your strange behaviour and, although he tried to find a reason for that, he preferred to stay still in front of the elevator in case you really needed him or he could go back to the office.

"Jim."

When you called out to him again, he quickly went to the door that separated you, grabbing the knob so he could turn it, but to his surprise that he couldn't because you were grabbing it too.

"I need to open the door in case you need me," he murmured, hearing a new sigh from you, this time longer than the one in the restroom. "Do you get dizzy? I can call Michael or Dwight."

"No," you denied quickly, squeezing the knob hard. "No."

That denial made him sigh in the same way, realizing that he had held his breath for too long.

"Okay," he whispered, crossing his arms. "Do you need something? You seemed very convinced when you got up from the chair."

A small smile appeared on your face hearing him talk to you like that, even if there was a door between the two of you.

"Yes," you affirmed.

"Okay, tell me what you need."

You felt how your heart seemed to tighten as if you didn't want to let go of those feelings, but you knew it was time, even if a part of them would remain hidden for a while longer.

Of course, you felt weak with a single look from him, you were unable to hide it and you loved that feeling that he caused you with his smile, those butterflies that swirled in your stomach when someone told you that he had come looking for you to talk to you and that intrusion of thoughts about him when you accidentally locked eyes, hoping that at some point your dreams would come true and you could be in his arms just once.

"You take my breath away," you murmured. "That's why I'm not talking to you."

Jim smiled at your statement and carefully opened the door, watching your body tremble as your face turned a deep reddish colour that he found adorable.

"It's lucky to know I wasn't the only one, you had left me breathless a few seconds ago, so imagine."

Your eyes slowly focused on his, being able to distinguish the slight red tint that was on his cheeks as a result of your confession, and, although neither could expect it, both of you managed to breathe again when you were in front of the other and not contain those hidden feelings.

#jim halpert #jim #halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x you #jim halpert x oc #reader #you #oc #john krasinski #jim halpert imagine #john krasinski imagine #the office

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