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tojisun · 2 years

Note

I saw that the requests are open :) how about toji who can't move on from his wife dying and then he gets a relationship with the reader (like a year or two) but like i said Toji can't move on so he sometimes cries in his sleep begging for his wife and he still wears his wedding ring, then the reader left and toji regrets it (change everything you want, it is an angst to fluff 'cause for the life of me I can't handle sad endings :)) thank youuu

HI! okay so i finally finished this request, im sorry it took so long. and now im sorry it turned out super long. i enjoyed writing this piece, thank you so much! i tweaked your request a bit so that it feels more comfortable writing it, i hope u like this <3

working title: between the pages

toji x fem reader

content warning: mamaguro had to be named and she is going by kaori in this fic, there is an oc who would appear quite often, book references, au - no curses, legal age gap, character death references. // word count: 7.1k

There is a saying stored somewhere in Kaori's books (those that Toji never really bothered to read until now) about misery.

He doesn’t quite recall how it goes so he spends his free time, and he has a lot of those these days, browsing the worn pages of each book that amass dust in her shelves to see if he could find it. Toji doesn’t know what it is that drives him to search for a measly quote or why he even wishes to know what it says. He wonders if this is all an empty motion—an attempt to drown out the pain and to forget about her absence. A routine that dulls the sorrow and mutes his senses.

Some days, he forgets that she is gone.

Most days, it is all that he could think about.

Then, Saturday morning, a minute before four a.m., Toji finds what he had been looking for.

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.”

What a cruel thing to read.

───────────────

After Kaori’s funeral, the Fushiguros took most of her possessions with them, leaving only a select few that Toji had fought for.

They never really did like him for her, after all. Only Kaori’s mother, now an old weeping woman who is rendered ill after her daughter’s death, had been warm to Toji. Maybe because he was Kaori’s husband and she was her only daughter, the youngest of her eight children, which made her love Toji despite the sourness from her husband and her seven boys. Or maybe because she had seen the lovelessness that Toji had grown up in and wanted to be a mother for him too. Whatever the reason may have been, it had long sizzled out because Toji knows he’s failed her.

So when she sat him down, quiet and aching and mourning in a way Toji had never seen before, especially not from his own blood, Toji knew what she would ask from him. And he knew what was the right thing to say.

“Son, we’d like to bring the boy home with us.” Her voice was broken, exhausted, small and weak. She rubbed her aged hands together, refusing to meet Toji’s eyes. She smelt of anguish and guilt. Just like me, Toji thought.

“We’d love to raise him as our own. And I think that, well—Toji-kun, I think it’s what she would’ve wanted for him too.”

Toji’s breath hitched and his eyes began watering almost immediately. It was playing dirty; to bring Kaori’s name and her wishes as if a weapon that was forged against him.

But even if she was wrong and that Kaori would have never liked this, Toji knew that the boy would truly fare better with them, instead.

What could Toji give him other than heartache and his own shortcomings? How could he love their son when he could barely love himself? What—

What is there to live for without her?

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Did she get to name him?”

No, Kaori had not. She died too quickly, too soon, leaving Toji when their family was just completed. She had only glanced at the boy, tickling his thin hair and pressing a light kiss on his chubby cheek, and then she was gone.

No. Kaori was not given the privilege to.

So instead, Toji thought of the time in their living room, his wife sat by the open balcony doors to feel the brush of the wind as she rubbed her belly, humming a song to fill in the silence. Toji remembered how she had looked at him upon his entrance, beckoning him close to gently take his hands, shaky as they were, and press them flat onto her belly. Toji remembered the little kick that he felt through her skin, just a little nudge, and her giggles at Toji’s wide eyes.

“Our blessing,” she told him before smiling so full and bright and filled with so much life.

And Toji knew that was enough. For him, for her, and for their little baby. It was enough for a sentimental name, one that would allow Kaori’s memory to live on.

“Megumi. Kaori wanted to name him Megumi.”

His mother-in-law was quiet after that, and Toji wondered if she realized that she was taking the last of Kaori’s remnants from Toji’s life. Then, he wondered if that was truly the right call.

───────────────

Toji reads Kaori’s books religiously, chasing after the ghost she left in between the worn pages of her favourite books. He gets to know her again, relearning who she is through poems and prose, and putting together these new pieces—these glimpses of Kaori’s soul that she had left—in hopes of having more of her.

It is madness, some might say, but Toji thinks it is just his grieving.

The months crawl by, but they do move. There is a quote somewhere in her books about these slow hours, and Toji pretends that he does not have it memorized in spades.

“That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”

The words come to Toji like the wind; plain and unseeing, but irrevocably heart-wrenching. Is this what she wanted to happen when she left those books? To have Toji be haunted by words that should not have made sense, as if they are lifelines that he is desperately clutching onto because what else of her is left for him if not those?

“You left me,” he says, tracing her name chiselled amongst the others in the Fushiguro family grave. “You said,” his voice hitches, “you said that we’d raise Megu—the boy together. Then you went back on your word and left us both.”

The wind blows and the leaves rustle, and Toji has never felt more alone in this world.

“How do I live without you?”

There is no reply. There hasn’t been one for a year now.

Toji waits, straining his ears because maybe some superstitions are right. Maybe the wind does carry her voice and maybe then she will finally answer him. Maybe there is something to be heard in the cemetery. Maybe her ghost is beside him, after all.

But there is nothing. Toji stands up and leaves.

───────────────

He finds their picture tucked in one of her older books. The pages of this one are frayed and bent, as though it had been drenched in water and despite the careful fixing, it never really did get restored. But he knows this book: it’s the one she’s always held close to her being. A favourite, perhaps, or a carrier of sentimental values, those that date even before meeting Toji.

He never really got around to reading it then—the wound was too fresh, too deep—afraid that if he were to finish the book, then it was like the last piece of Kaori was truly gone.

But tired from work and jittery from pain, Toji flips the book open. Then, that is where he sees it. An old photo of them together, taken from one of those cheap photo booths that she had forced him into.

In the picture, Kaori had her head resting on Toji’s shoulder who encircled his arms around her, tucking her underneath his chin. Toji remembers pressing her impossibly closer, snuggling her on his chest because Toji wanted a reminder. Wanted proof that he is loved and spoken for.

He gingerly plucks it from in between the pages, stroking a finger at Kaori’s smiling face.

(He willed himself not to read what was on the page, but his eyes were faster than his mind. “I want you to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like—.”

Toji tears his eyes away, focusing on Koari’s picture instead.)

Toji never really forgot her face, gods he doesn’t know if he ever will, but it’s been too long since Toji had seen her look so alive. He studies her face, trailing his eyes at her smile and at the crinkles at her eyes and at the shimmer of her lips and at the rose of her cheeks, and sears it all to his memory.

A choked sob makes its way from his throat.

He flips the picture, remembering Kaori scribbling something at the back and—yeah, there it is.

In careful hiragana, Kaori wrote, “My love and I.”

“Fuck,” Toji whispers and the tears come easily, painful sobs wrenching themselves from his throat as he drowns at the sorrow once again.

───────────────

It’s been three years (six months and nineteen days) since Kaori’s death, and Toji still thinks there is not much left to live for himself.

Stumbling to survive, he has long given up on trying to find a semblance of joy, a sliver of hope, in this lonely world.

Kaori’s mother stopped giving him updates about Megumi (sometimes, saying his name hurts Toji in ways he cannot explain; it’s like being reminded of what was taken from him, what is irrevocably gone), and Toji tries to pretend that he understands why. Granted the boy was not told of his existence, but Toji thinks he still deserves to know even a glimpse of his son’s life. Of Kaori’s son. But they have changed their numbers and cleansed themselves of Toji, leaving him to mourn on his own once again.

He flips a page.

“Is that Sputnik Sweetheart?”

Toji peers up from his lashes to look at you, seeing awe sparkling in your eyes as you sweep a look at the book in his possession. Selfishly, he wished that no one else had read Kaori’s books; that these are something only she and Toji knew, a secret they share, a language no one else can decipher.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Read it?”

“Me? Nah,” you say, chuckling. “Could never really go through Murakami’s books, they’re too long and loaded.” He smiles at that, thinking, yeah, they are. He’s always wondered how Kaori ever finished them so quickly when Toji is lumbering page to page, rereading certain passages just to fully soak them in. “My ex loved them though, s’why I could recognize that,” you add.

He grunts. You tilt your head at the empty seat in front of him. “Can I?”

He casts a quick glance at the cafe, brows furrowing at seeing how packed it had gotten, before turning to you and nods.

“Sweet,” you say, collapsing at the chair and sagging in comfort.

Toji takes that time to study you. You are years younger than him, that’s the first thing he notices. Maybe ten or so years younger? You look like it. You’re short too. Well, shorter than him. You look tired; haggard in a way that he only remembers seeing from Kaori, back when she was still in college and cursing her professors. Then there’s this aching in your eyes that Toji doesn’t want to acknowledge, doesn’t want to see lest he is reminded of himself. It was this type of longing trapped in your eyes that never seemed to have healed, just dampened. It was there when you were talking about your ex, a heavy feeling that you pushed away quickly. But Toji has familiarized himself with the flickering sorrow.

He knows. You’ve lost someone too, huh?

“So how far along are you in that book?” You ask, shrugging your winter jacket off and hanging it on your chair.

“Finished it.” Toji picks up his coffee and sips to avoid saying more, but you smile at him, undeterred, and go back to fixing yourself up, unwrapping your scarf to let it hang loosely around your shoulders instead.

“Must be a good book if you’re rereading it,” you say, chuckling lightly. He gives another grunt before turning back to his book, and he sees you shrug from his peripheral, not taking offence at his dismissal.

Not that he cares, but there is nowhere else Toji can go to right now. Snow began pattering outside the cafe, and despite that the streets are still busy and full of people, and home is—there hasn’t been a place like home for him anymore. So he is grateful for your polite conversation, but he is more thankful for your silence. It seems like you two need solace, after all.

He returns to his book and you start fumbling about in your laptop before pulling out textbooks and notebooks and cleanly piling them on your side of the table. Your coffee (iced caramel latte, too sweet and kind of impractical for the cool weather) has begun perspiring as you lose yourself in your work, forgetting about your drink, and Toji pretends that he is not watching you from the corners of his eyes. He pretends that seeing you work does not feel like coming close to normalcy again.

There is an hour left before the shop closes, but Toji packs up to return to his apartment. You look up at his clamour before returning to your notes, notebooks sprawled open as if it was not enough that you have your laptop with you. He walks to the trash and dumps his empty coffee cup before sliding to the door. He pauses. Then he walks back to you again.

You look up once more upon hearing his steps, confusion clouding your gaze as you tilt your head in wonder. He speaks before you could. “Good luck with your work,” he says. He hovers, waiting.

“Oh,” you utter, confused. “Thank you?” You phrase your reply like a question and Toji’s lips quirk in amusement. He nods, a silent goodbye, then he walks out, this time for real.

Before rounding the corner, he turns to cast a quick glance at the shop again and feels a quiet type of elation when he sees you looking back at him. He raises a hand—another goodbye; he wonders what prompted it—before turning at the corner and disappearing completely from your view. He wonders if you mirrored his silent farewell.

He thinks you did.

───────────────

He returns to the cafe two weeks later.

It is late and the wind is a lot more biting, stinging his ears and nose. Toji’s face scrunches when he finally makes it to the shop, breathing in the familiar smell of coffee beans and too-sweet pastries. It’s quite packed again, everyone milling about to avoid the winter winds.

Then, he sees you.

Much like before, you are sitting at the same table, on the same chair. Your books are open again, this time you are scribbling in your notebook instead of typing away in your laptop. Your coffee cup—you’re still drinking iced coffee, it seems—is empty, leaving a mix of melting ice and cream-coloured leftover brew.

He turns to the cashier and orders two coffees, one hot and one iced, for him and for you. Toji tries not to think about the impulsive decision he made, choosing instead to bask in the warmth of the shop as he waits for the barista to finish up with his order. He does not notice it, but his eyes stray and linger on you, watching the way your hair curls behind your scarf and the way your back slouches deeper every time you write.

He huffs a humoured laugh when you thump your head on the table, hand fisted around your pen looking as if you have given up. Just like Kaori before, he thinks.

He pauses, dread filling up his heart. No. No.

When his name is called, Toji grabs his order and briskly walks out the door. Only when he is close to the train station does he realize that he is still holding onto the iced coffee. Toji throws it in the nearby trash can and scurries off into the platform.

───────────────

He visits Kaori’s grave.

It feels wrong, somewhat. It feels like he came to her because he is guilty. Guilty of thinking of another woman, guilty of comparing her to someone else. He places the flowers on the stone, but it just feels like an apology. Like an excuse. He tries forming words in his mouth, but they all burn at his throat and leave him empty.

Toji doesn’t quite know what to call the feeling—lies, Toji hears himself rebut, you know what it is—he just wants to unlatch it from his being and discard it away. He would rather feel hollow than feel this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he cannot find it in himself to say what he is sorry for.

He watches as the snow piles up on the stone, dropping onto the flowers that he brought and clumping together with no abandon. There is a certain silence in the cemetery, but Toji welcomes it, anyway. It allows his veins to simmer and it lays the paths for Toji’s mind to wander.

He finds that he often loses himself in this place, almost like a plea for Kaori to come and take him with her.

Toji hears the crunching of snow as tiny shuffles make their way close to Kaori’s grave, and he waits for them to move away and skirt around him but they don’t. Instead, the padding of boots stops a few feet away from Toji, almost hesitating in the way they hover at his right. Curious, he looks up and sees you.

“Oh,” he hears you say, blinking at him, your soft voice tinged with surprise. “It’s you!”

He chuckles before he can stop himself. “Yeah. It’s me.”

There is a pause as you figure out if you were to stay or walk away, unsure if it is overstepping if you inquired any more of his time there or if it is rude to just continue on your way. Toji sees these thoughts dance across your face, his scarred lips tugging up in amusement (endearment), so he makes the choice for you.

“Visiting someone?” Toji asks and urges you to come closer. You take gentle steps, careful and quiet as you move to stand beside him.

He sees you eye the Fushiguro’s grave, reading all the different names carved on the stones. Toji wonders if you’ve seen Kaori’s name and just knew that the other half of his soul, the better half, is now dust.

“Yeah,” you finally say. He blinks when you utter a name he doesn’t recognize.

“What?”

“That’s, uh, that’s my name? We never really got to introduce ourselves last time,” you reply, scratching your cheek, embarrassed.

Toji grunts in understanding. “Fushiguro Toji.”

You turn to the grave in question. Toji shakes his head. “I’m visiting my wife.” You make a low noise at the base of your throat, nodding your head slowly.

He clears his throat. “How about you?”

Then there is this wobbly smile on your face and Toji thinks, I know how it feels.

───────────────

There was a man sitting at your usual table, grumpy as he flipped a page from a book that you are too familiar with.

(Flashes of Teruma’s bright orange hair danced across your irises, and for a moment it was like he was there with you again.

“Baby!” He would call you as he always had, and you would be weak on your knees because he’s alive, alive, alive.)

There’s a scar at the corner of the man’s mouth, long enough that it spanned both of his lips, and he oddly looked good with it, you thought. Then you remembered that it is rude to stare at people and so you forced your eyes to meet his, and saw pools of green flaked with glitters of gold. He was reluctant to allow you to sit with him.

That’s fine, you just wanted to get through your Geography homework, anyway.

He didn’t speak much, choosing to read his book again. Likewise, you zoned into your work and focused in earnest. Time trickled and ran, but every flip of a page from the man’s book sent you reeling back in time.

(Cheeky smiles and rough palms.

“I’ll come back soon,” is whispered on your lips.

“Okay,” you kissed back.

But he never did.).

When the man wished you well with your work before ambling away, you could not help the way your lips stretched into a smile.

What a gentle giant he was.

. . . . . . . . . . .

A couple weeks later, you saw Gentle Giant again. You saw his mirage from your spot, and you watched as he walked away from the shop, his steps looking rushed and almost frantic. The two cups of coffee in his hands sloshed at his brisk movements, and you just wished that whatever he was speed-walking to was worth him spilling his drinks.

Belatedly, you wondered if the other cup was for someone else.

You stared at his quickly retreating back until he rounded the corner, and disappeared from your vantage completely. Then, you turned back to your godforsaken paper, cursing your professors and the educational system.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Gentle Giant’s name is Toji, and he lost his wife. He hasn’t told you much, but you still want to tell him about Teruma. So you do.

You tell him about the boy who you’ve loved for six years, two of which were spent loving his ghost. You tell him about the breakup, the mutual understanding shared between you two before he went to Detroit. You tell him about Teruma apologizing, about you saying it is okay. Then, shakily, you tell him about the plane crash, the one that was on the news two years ago. You tell him about the funeral held for the boy whose body they never recovered.

“I was gonna marry him,” you say. “I was so sure that I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him.”

Toji does not mention the tears on your cheeks or the way your breath hitches or the tremble of your hands. He does not offer apologies or any placation, and you know it is his kindness. Silent, like everything else about him.

───────────────

Toji tells you about Kaori. He thinks it is to make it fair, after all you told him about Teruma, but really, he just wants to let the pain out. He sees how light you have felt after, and Toji yearns to feel that free. There is an aching in his heart that has festered and aged, and Toji wants, even for a bit, to let go. So he does, and he starts by telling you about his wife.

Toji loses himself in the memories, closing his eyes as he relives his moments with Kaori. It’s been years but she is still bright in his mind, concrete and alive, almost as if Toji could just reach out and feel her warmth again. Anguish thrums in his veins as he tells you about their son, but he bulldozes through because he wants the good memories. There is no more of Megumi that Toji could call his own, so Toji traces Kaori’s books, instead, and tells you their significance.

This is when Toji feels you come alive, springing like a bud and uncurling outward to meet him in his ramblings. You pipe in about Murakami’s books, excited and nostalgic at the same time. He tells you about Kaori’s frustrations—“Too much open-ending, apparently.”—and you tell him about Teruma’s—“He calls them poetry.”—and Toji feels like he’s found a kindred in your aching soul.

The ghosts surrounding you two must think you guys are fools; to be licking each other’s wounds as you recount your lives with your beloved. But so be it, Toji thinks, because he’s finally found a semblance of peace in his life.

He thinks of Sputnik Sweetheart, how this all started, and he remembers: “It came to me then. That we were wonderful travelling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits.”

How fitting, isn’t it?

───────────────

It becomes a regularity for you and Toji to meet in the cafe, Murakami’s books in his hands and your textbooks (and notebooks and laptop) in yours.

The meetups start quietly, letting the tension bleed out and allowing comfort to seep through. Then the greetings come, these ones more genuine. You share something about your life, and Toji listens. He is more reserved, only saying things that have no follow up questions, but it seems you do not care about his plans because you always find a way to make him speak more.

Often, Toji finds his voice wearing down after those meet-ups with you, and he does not remember a time after Kaori when he’s spoken this much. He feels elated, alive, and living.

Sometimes, it’s still a struggle to go about life without Kaori.

Sometimes, he forgets it as long as he’s with you. And if that isn’t terrifying.

He learns who you are past the stress of university exams and incoherent cursing at whoever pissed you off at work. He unveils your person deeper, seeing what you’ve become after trying to heal around Teruma’s passing. Toji sees someone who he wants to be like.

You laughed when Toji uttered this to you. “I’m a mess, Toji-san!” You said, clutching your stomach as laughter pittered off from your throat. That’s another thing that Toji learns about you: you say his name like it is milk gliding at your tongue.

“I di’n say you ain’t,” he remembers answering. I just want to feel more than sorrow, he added as an afterthought. He wonders if you knew what he wanted to say back then.

It seems like you always do.

───────────────

Spring air turns a lot hotter, welcoming summer earlier than anyone has anticipated. The only good thing that came out of the upcoming humid season are the flowers that grow in bigger and cheaper bundles.

He grabs white chrysanthemums for Kaori, you brought Teruma orange gerberas.

There are more people in the cemetery these days, plucking out weeds and cleaning their family graves as they welcome the new season. Toji helps you clean Teruma’s and you both hover at Kaori’s, offering a short prayer.

“Who knows?” You begin as Toji walks you to the station. He lives on the other side of the city, but it is still too early and Toji doesn’t want to be alone again. Not yet. “Maybe Kaori-san and Teru are reading Murakami’s books wherever they are right now.”

Toji snorts. “You believe in the afterlife?” He pushes his hair back, noting that it’s grown longer again and that he needs to cut it soon.

You shrug, humming quietly, and looking away when Toji meets your eyes. “I’d like to think that there is a better place for the dead. That there’s a place where the people we love are happier. Because why else would they leave us, you know?”

Toji blinks, quiet and stunned. Then, he says, “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

And it sounds a lot better, kinder, than what Toji used to believe in. Because if there is an afterlife, then surely Kaori is at peace and she is happy and she is no longer hurting.

So maybe, with this in mind, maybe Toji can begin letting go. Because if Kaori is in a better place, then maybe Toji doesn’t need to be haunted anymore.

(Because if Kaori is happy then maybe he can be too—)

───────────────

A year and a half spent with you, chasing away each other’s loneliness and submerging yourselves in books that are left behind by your most precious ones, has passed when you tell him that you love him.

Toji turns to you in surprise, watching the blush on your cheeks as you stop walking, waiting for his answer. Your eyes are steady as they gaze back onto him, your face schooled into a mask. He notes the falling leaves around you two and the wind that blows from his back and the way your hair sweeps away from your face and how you tremble, having always been weak to the cold.

His first thought is, You look good even in autumn.

Then his next is, I know.

“Are you asking me out?” Toji finally asks, grimacing when his voice breaks at the end, and swallowing to dislodge the lump stuck in his throat.

You shrug, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and Toji watches, mesmerized. “If you want,” you say. “I mean, if you want to be in a relationship with me, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s fine for me too, Toji-san, we can just remain as friends. Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. Have been in love with you.” You coughed, blushing and looking away, shy all of a sudden.

There is strength in your voice that Toji cannot seem to shake.

(Later, when he looks back on this day, Toji will recognize that it is fortitude; it is courage that you have gathered in your arms and had lain in front of him, asking him to make a choice. Asking him to choose you.)

And he thinks that he’s known this day would come. He’s waited for this day to come. But Toji knows his faults, he has known them before any other could. For many nights that he was sleepless, Toji spent the time tracing the fractures in his being and knowing that there is something wrong with him. That there is something he cannot get through, something he cannot let go.

“I don’t think I can ever forget her,” he tells you, honest and broken.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you answer. “I don’t think we can love wholly again, but I still want to try with you.”

Oh, Toji thinks, you understand. You understand in ways no other had, in ways no one was willing to, and Toji thinks that maybe that is enough: that he’d feel safe in your arms and that he’d get to be happy again and that he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And he wants to. With you.

So he trudges close to where you stand, where you wait for him, and clasps his hand with yours and shyly says, “Please take care of me.”

And when you send him a smile, the one that has always been for him, Toji wills his heart to calm down.

───────────────

Nothing changes much between you two, except for the relearning of boundaries and stumbling into new ways of expressing the bubbles in your hearts, the ‘I love yous’ that are echoed. Sometime back then, Toji thought that he was doing something wrong—it was a relationship unlike Kaori’s, yes that he knew, but it was also different from all the others—until you eased his worries and told him, in an utterly fond voice, that your shared love parallels a friendship that is eons stronger.

“As long as you’re happy,” you said to him, holding onto his hands as you two lined up to pay for the bouquets, lilies for Kaori and freesias for Teruma.

“I am,” Toji replied before he leant down to press a soft kiss at the crown of your head. “And you?”

You craned your neck to look up at him, your smile wide and genuine, and whispered, “With you? Always.”

Toji’s heart swells at the memory.

Loving you, Toji thinks, is easy and light. It is built on trust and friendship and camaraderie, bearing a depth that no one seems to truly understand. A depth that people often passed off as being each other’s rebound, each other’s second choice. But neither you nor Toji think of your relationship this way.

Not when love brims from your lips, pouring your heart out with each kiss, each confession, all of which Toji reciprocates. Being with you is like finding light in the darkness, like feeling hope after the chaos, like being home once again. But it is also like a dandelion amidst the grass or a mug tucked at the very back of the cupboard; like slotting himself by your side feels natural and just right.

───────────────

There is a sound that tickles your senses, one that you try to bat away but it comes with vengeance. It starts off quiet, a whimper, and you try to drown it back, turning to sleep once again. But the sound grows louder, more desperate, more hurt, and there is nothing else for you to do but jolt awake, gasping as if you were submerged in water.

You think you dreamt of Teruma—orange hair, rough palm against your cheek, a static voice announcing a series of names, the feeling of dread, then, the dropping agony at hearing his—but the recollection fades as you turn to Toji, seeing him weeping at his sleep.

He is haunted—like me, you think, like me—and you crawl close to him, urgency steeping in your veins. “Toji-san?” You call. He whimpers but does not stir, and he turns his head away, his face scrunching in pain.

You caress his cheeks, hands gentle despite their tremors. “Toji-san,” you say, panic clouding your voice. “Come back to me, please.”

Please, Kaori-san, give him back to me.

Toji does not wake, curling on himself, instead, as tears continue to run down his cheeks. You do not let him go, voice washing over him even when he cannot hear you. You try shaking him and slapping at his shoulders, hoping the pain that his body feels is stronger than that of his heart. But you know. You know he is there, seeing Kaori leave again.

Toji continues to slip deeper into his dreams, lost and hurting. “You are okay,” you whisper, pressing kisses at his closed eyes, willing them to finally open. “You’ve been doing better, so come back here, Toji-san. To me. With me, like always.”

It takes a few more torturous minutes before he gasps awake and sits upright, his hand clutching where his heart rests. He wheezes, gulping air hungrily, before choking on a sob. He turns to you, calls your name in a quiet voice that breaks your heart, and you open your arms, not trusting your voice to comfort him. He collapses onto you, pressing his face on your shoulder as he wails, shaking, clutching you tighter as if afraid that you too will leave him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you reply. “You’re okay.”

Toji shakes his head, but he does not say anything else and lets the silence go on as he holds you close. You don’t mind, choosing to run your fingers through his hair, and letting him come back down from his dreams.

“What if we’d never work out because I’m not—I still remember her. Sometimes, I still miss her,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

You flinch and Toji must have felt you tense because he pulls back from your arms, sliding until he is sitting in front of you. He ducks his head when he sees the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. There is silence between you two, letting his words stew. You inhale sharply when his hand twines with yours, tugging, almost begging.

You sigh from your nose. “What do you want to do, Toji-san?”

“I’m sorry,” is what he says instead.

You shake your head. “Tell me. Let’s talk this through.”

He slumps forward, bowing down into himself. Your hand twitches, wanting to pull him in an embrace again, but you take his silence and allow him space.

“I love you,” he begins, voice steady and sure, and your heart flutters. I know, you want to say, but you see how he tests out the words on his tongue, hesitant and stiff, and so you wait. He squeezes your hand. Thank you.

“I'm terrified. Darling, I love you but why can’t I let go of the pain? It’s like, I allow myself to be happy but then I remember her and then I miss her all over again.” He sighs, almost a hiss, and he lets one of your hands go to push his hair back, agitated. “And I want you with me, god knows I don’t want to let you go. But am I worth it?”

You huff a humourless laugh. “Always.”

“Baby—”

“No,” you interrupt, “Toji-san, listen to me. You are always worth it, worth my love.” His breath hitches at your words and you smile as he pulls you close again, this time sitting you on his lap. You sweep his hair away from his face and plant a kiss on his forehead, and another, and another. Precious kisses for your most precious person. “So worth my everything,” you mutter.

Toji hugs you tighter and rests his head at the crook of your neck. His big hands envelop your back and you feel so small like this, as if Toji could just tuck you close in the pocket of his chest, in his heart. At the same time, Toji looks so vulnerable. Shaken. Afraid. Your Gentle Giant folded so close to you, almost as if begging you to tell him why he should stay—

Your mind screeches to a halt. Oh, Toji-san.

“I dreamt of Teru tonight,” you start, clearing your throat when your voice shatters. Toji doesn’t move, but you know he’s listening. He always does. “I dreamt about him a few nights ago too. There are days when I miss him too much that I forget he’s gone. Then there are days that it’s all I could remember. Four years of being with him doesn’t just go away, it seems. He is seared into my memories, after all.”

The more you spoke, the more Toji tenses, freezing as if he could see where you are going with this. By the end of it, his head hovers in front of you, eyes searching for something within yours. He lifts a hand to cup your cheek and you nuzzle his palm, resting your smaller hand on top of his.

You are almost breathless when you continue, as if desperate and frantic. “But it doesn’t mean I love you any less, Toji-san. I miss Teru, but I love you. And for me, that is enough.” You whimper when he brushes a stray tear away from your cheeks. “And I need to know if you feel the same, Toji-san.”

You barely got the last of your words out before Toji is pulling you in for a kiss, warm lips meeting yours in a heated tangle. He pulls and pulls, pressing you impossibly close, his touch scorching your skin as he devours your doubts away, and you know, there and then, that he loves you just as much.

When you pull back, gasping, Toji touches his forehead with yours. “I do,” he says, voice as broken as yours. He says your name, then “I love you so.”

He kisses you again, this time slower but not any less intimate. “‘M sorry for what I said,” he whispers. “‘M sorry, my love.”

You kiss his cheeks and his nose, skirting away from his lips, and quietly giggling as you press a kiss on his chin instead. “I’m okay,” you say. “We’re okay.”

He hums, low and soft. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply. You grin. “‘And this love is about to carry me off somewhere.’”

He chokes on a laugh, one that you note is fond, after recognizing the reference. “It’ll carry you to me, hopefully,” he says cheekily and kisses you once again. You laugh, carefree and happy, as if a load has finally been lifted off your chest.

───────────────

Teruma’s death anniversary is today.

Toji knew even before he opened his eyes, sensing the ache in the air even before he could look at you. Toji turns to your side of the bed, not surprised to see it empty. He fumbles for his phone, checks the time, and stands up to prepare for the day.

He quickly leaves the apartment and speedwalks all the way to the flower shop. A worker greets him the moment the wind chimes sound, smiling as Toji makes his way to the counter. The owner looks up from his flower arrangements and sends Toji a smaller smile upon seeing him. Toji buys carnations and baby’s breaths, and walks out the door after telling the man that yes, Toji would greet you for him.

He takes the train and doesn’t bother with all the stares that people give him, tracing, instead, the familiar route toward the cemetery. He quickens his steps, almost jogging with how fast he is moving, sincere in his desperation to be with you through this.

When Toji gets to you, you are muffling your cries behind your palms, shaking as if you are about to collapse. He rushes to your side, afraid that you will, and you startle, turning to him. Toji’s heart breaks at the grief painted on your face, and he pulls you in for an embrace before you could utter a sound.

The flowers in his hand jostle and some of the petals fall, but Toji doesn’t spare them a thought as he rests a hand on your head and wishes that this helps even for a bit.

“I’ve got you,” Toji says. “I’ve got you.”

───────────────

“I’m home! Anyways, look what I found!” You scream as soon as you arrive, and Toji blinks at your excitement.

“Welcome back,” Toji greets, smiling fondly as you jump beside him, plopping yourself so close to him. You pull your bag to your lap, fumbling about, before pulling a worn book.

“I found this in the thrift store,” you say, showing him the book excitedly, lips stretched into a wide grin. “I wasn’t gonna buy it, but look.”

You flip at the pages before thrusting the old book under Toji’s nose. He picks it up, confused as to why you were showing him a book you know he’s read already, but then he catches sight of it.

“Is this—”

“It is!”

“And it was just in the thrift store?” Toji asks, still not looking away from Murakami’s autograph.

You laugh, nodding your head frantically. “Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “Thought you’d love it.”

Toji turns to you and grins. “Well, I love everything you give me.”

“Aww, Toji-san! You’re such a sap!”

He rolls his eyes goodheartedly. “And you’re such a brat.”

“Mhmm. But you still love me, anyway.”

Toji smiles and finally, finally, pulls you in for a kiss. Then, “That I do, baby.”

(book references, order based on appearance):

1Q84, 1Q84, Norwegian Wood, Sputnik Sweetheart, Sputnik Sweetheart — all are written by Haruki Murakami

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shirecorn · 3 years

Note

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

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lovelivingmydreams · 2 years

Note

In celebration of Analogical week next month and in the name of your fancy prompt list - Sentence 9, trope D, au F for analogical if you feel like it

Okay. I hope i got the dynamic right cause i am not used to this pairing but i think i did okay. There is some platonic prinxiety because if they aren't dating these two are besties okay? Hope you like what I came up with.

Piss off your parents

Logan stood in front of the bar Virgil was supposed to perform at tonight. He’d messed up. He’d messed up in a big way and he hadn’t even realized it until it was already too late. Virgil would never want to see him again… But he had to explain it to him. He had to tell him that it wasn’t what he thought it was. He was right to be mad with him of course. He’d been deceitful and hurt him deeply in the process. It had been six months ago when he’d made the best and worst decision of his life. As a fresh graduate from college he’d accepted his parent’s offer to run the flowershop for a while to get some work experience to put on his resumes. It would also help out his parents who’d quite frankly been overworking themselves. He loved his parents. Just to be clear. But living with them again after four years of living on his own had quickly made him realize how involved they tended to get with his life. They meant well but everything about him was subjected to their opinion. And he didn’t wish to upset them. He never had. Not even as a teenager when one is supposed to go through a rebellious phase. Logan wanted to have that rebellion now though. Do something his parents wouldn’t approve of. Something potentially ill informed. On top of that, he and his friend Patton had given each other a bucket list at graduation. Some things they thought would benefit the other in their first year as well-educated adults but they knew their friend might not get around to on their own. Most of Patton’s challenges seemed easy enough. But one was quite ambiguous. ‘Take a risk.’ It was exactly what Logan was craving. And just as he’d been thinking about that, he’d walked in. Virgil. Headphones in, still dressed in an oversized bandshirt and hoodie like he had been last he saw him. Piercings decorating his ears, upper lip and right nostril. Logan thought he even saw some ink on his wrist and collarbone. He'd walked up to him with a smirk and asked for a floral arrangement for his mother. Apparently Virgil had only just gotten back in town after finishing his own education and was going to bring his parents some flowers and wine as a thank you for getting to ‘crash at their place’ until he found living arrangements of his own with a friend. Logan and Virgil had both been in highschool together. Virgil had always seemed distant, sometimes even aggressive and Logan had elected to stay out of the way. He was much more laid back now. Less intimidating. But no less enticing. He’d always been attractive… Logan put together the bouquet following Virgil’s instructions, he’d put some thought into this clearly, and when he rang him up he took the plunge. “Do you mind catching up over coffee sometime this week?” he asked. Virgil had been taken aback, rendered completely silent for a few moments before he got that easygoing smile again. “You. Galaxybrain Gabriels, want to catch up with me? I thought you and your buddy thought I’d eat you if you locked eyes with me back in the day,” he teased. “You didn’t seem too keen on company at the time and we chose to respect that,” Logan pointed out. “You don’t seem as opposed to friendly interactions anymore. And I have never been capable of leaving a mystery unexplored,” he stated. All true. But it still felt like a lie. Virgil laughed, a deep, attractive sound. “A mystery huh? Okay. See you at Remy’s on Monday? That’s you guys’ closing day right?” he verified. Logan nodded. “Indeed. I will meet you at four.” Virgil nodded and paid before leaving with a salute. Logan’d had a plan for that meeting. They’d flirt and maybe fool around a bit in the storageroom of the shop afterwards and it would never be mentioned again. Virgil’d had quite a few casual hookups over the course of their final year. His type seemed to center around people like Logan. Those who normally wouldn’t interact with him. Which, in Virgil’s case was most of the school. Cheerleaders, jocks, theatre kids, chessclub members… Anyone who wanted a taste of danger had gotten a taste of Virgil Lager. And now, if Virgil’s preferences hadn’t changed too

much, Logan might get to experience that himself. Logan worked the shop like a good son the rest of the week. And then on his day off, after he finished his administration, he got dressed, told his parents he was meeting up with an old schoolfriend and headed to Remy’s. It was a café not too far from their old highschool. A popular spot for students to spend some time after classes ended. When Logan arrived, Virgil was already sitting in a booth, eyes focused on a notebook drumming a pencil against the edge of the table. Logan took a seat curiously. Virgil looked up and smiled putting his notebook away. “Right on time. Not that I expected anything less. I don’t think you had a single tardy all of highschool,” he recalled. “That would be correct,” Logan nodded. They placed their orders and once the server left Virgil leaned forward. “So. Working the family business huh? I figured you’d be an astronomer or something. You always got pretty stoked about the stars and stuff,” he recalled. Logan was surprised. “I do have a fascination with the stars,” he admitted. “I am getting work experience at the moment while waiting for a good job opportunity. I got a major in biochemistry and a minor in astronomy. Very different fields I am aware. I completed a teacher’s training course ass well. So if I don’t get a job in my chosen field of study I can pass on my knowledge instead,” he explained. Virgil smiled in a way Logan couldn’t quite place. “That’s cool,” he simply said, in a surprisingly soft tone. “Thank you. How about you? What have you been up to the past four years?” Logan asked. It seemed only polite to engage in some small talk before making his proposition. He wasn’t quite sure how to properly phrase it. He tended to come across quite rude in more delicate social situations. Patton understood how he worked by now. Others had a harder time with his bluntness. “I got my degree in psychology. I’m starting up a practice with Emile. He’s taking the apartment that goes with our office, so me and David Pride Piercing Eyes are looking for a place to share. Ratking and Jay actually guilted me into going on a roadtrip with them after graduation to make up for not rooming with them. I shared a dormitory with those two. Love them, but never again,” Virgil chuckled. Logan figured that Jay referred to Janus Drake, their school council student representative, four years in a row. “Jay does law and political science. Of course,” Virgil elaborated. Yes that sounded like Drake. Thinking back Logan did see him and Virgil together a few times. He didn’t know they were that close. Then again, he hadn’t really paid attention to Virgil’s social life, or anything at school outside of what directly affected him and Patton. He only knew about Virgil’s dating habits because someone on his debate team had talked about pursuing Virgil and being successful. “Remus, believe it or not, is on his way to become a forensic pathologist,” he added. Remus. No doubt Remus Bello. Most known for being called to the principals office at least once a week. “That is quite surprising,” Logan admitted. “Oh he was quite eager to learn his material. And tell us all the juicy details,” Virgil muttered. “How’s your buddy doing? The cute guy. Patton, right?” Virgil asked. “Veterinarian. Despite his cat allergies,” Logan said. “Aw. That’s good for him,” Virgil smiled. “You two were kind of joined at the hip right?” he continued. “I didn’t realize we were of such interest to you,” Logan pointed out, genuinely curious. Virgil leaned back, his body language and facial expression suggesting he was feeling embarrassed. “Lets just say I tended to pay some attention to people I found sexy,” he muttered. Logan frowned as he tried to dissect that statement. Patton was a handsome man. But he was not ‘sexy’. That meant that Virgil thought... Logan felt his cheeks flush. “Ah,” he stated as their drinks arrived. When the waiter left again, Logan decided that now would be the best time to take the next step. “Well, I must say I found you rather attractive as well,” he stated. “Still

do, if I am honest.” There now they had both admitted attraction to one another. There was a nervousness settling in his stomach as he realized that his plan might actually work out as intended. Virgil was quiet for a moment as he sipped his drink. Then his posture relaxed. “Need to be somewhere today?” he wondered. Logan shook his head. “I have to let my parents know if it’ll get late but…” “Oh, it’ll get late. At least… Depending on your answer,” Virgil assured him. “Answer on what?” Logan asked, suddenly very nervous. What was Virgil planning? Virgil leaned forward with a conspiratorry look on his face. “Want to go on a date with me?” he asked softly. He hadn’t expected that. He could understand that Virgil had outgrown making out in the locker room. Part of him even appreciated the idea of building tension over the course of the evening. Patton told him to take a risk. This… This felt like a risk. On a date with Virgil. He seemed nice. Charming even. But… He wasn’t out to anyone except Patton. And all he wanted was one evening of ‘fooling around’. Rebelling without too big a chance of actual repercussions. “I…” he looked around nervously. Virgil nodded in understanding. “No one knows huh?” he concluded. “Patton… But yeah. No one knows,” Logan nodded. “I made up a girlfriend for a few weeks in my first year of college. Claimed that the relationship failed because I couldn’t combine it with classes. They didn’t ask questions after that,” he recalled. Being far more honest than he expected to be. “That’s okay… Is that the only reason to say no?” Virgil pressed gently. Logan felt like his stomach was being squeezed in an unpleasant way. He dismissed the feeling as nerves though and nodded. “Totally valid. But what if I promise no one will find out? I won’t even tell my own friends,” he promised. Logan couldn’t deny that he was quite curious to find what Virgil had in mind. How else he differed from the impression he got from him back in school. “I don’t know. You just told me that you have two friends who can help you plan the perfect crime,” he pointed out. Virgil let out a careless laugh. “Well, I guess that is a fair point. But if you decide to show up…” he took a folded piece of paper and slid it over. “You come to this place in one hour to solve that mystery,” he winked before getting up and dropping some cash on the table and leaving after finishing his drink. Once he was gone, Logan picked up the note and read it. It was a cryptic message. “Where stars walked the earth only to collide, there is a spot where lovers tried to hide.” The bleachers at the football field. Logan paid for their drinks and headed home. Just in case Virgil didn’t invite him to that spot to do what their peers usually used it for, he had an idea to make the storage room of the flower shop a little more inviting. He told his parents that plans changed and he’d be out the whole evening. They had a lot of questions and Logan said that he simply wanted to spend some more time with his old schoolmate. When he got to the agreed upon spot he found another note. And now he got excited. A scavenger hunt… Virgil must’ve planned this from the start. He’d come to that café hoping for… For a date. With him? Now he was a bit confused but he took the note and read. “Where minds shine bright in a silent maze. Find my songs, it was never a phase.” Library. Music section… He’d find something with Virgil’s favorite band no doubt. A scavenger hunt to get to know Virgil more. That… That was a lovely idea. And it had little risk of exposure. Logan learned that Virgil’s favorite band was evanescence, he liked lavender, he was a Disney fan, saw avatar and seemed to consider himself a water bender, he knew Harry Potter but gave no indication of what house he affiliated with most. And finally he found him in a hidden meadow in the park on a picknick blanket with pizza. “Hi. Want some?” he smirked. Logan had laughed and sat down. “That… That was fun,” he admitted. “Glad you liked it,” Virgil said. They talked some more about the series they enjoyed and debated some

conspiracy theories. He learned that Virgil liked to sing on the weekends on open mics and the like. He occasionally even got a paid gig. Soon Virgil said it was time for Logan to go home. “Want me to walk you?” he asked carefully. Logan was brought back from his little bubble and remembered his own preparation and its purpose. “Actually could you walk me to the shop? I got a surprise for you too,” he said. Virgil’s eyes glistened curiously. So Logan led him into the storage room and flipped the switch, turning on the fairy lights he’d installed in the rearranged storage room. “Wow. It’s like a garden in a fairytale… Safe for that desk,” he pointed out. Logan shrugged. “But… You like it?” he verified. Virgil nodded. “I’m kind of impressed. Though one must wonder. Why decorate your storage room like that unless you plan for us to be here for a bit longer?” he pressed. “My parents moved to a different house. My dad can’t do the stairs anymore due to his leg. So. We have quite some privacy here,” Logan elaborated a bit flustered. “Did you bring me here to seduce me?” Virgil teased lowly. Logan blushed. “I suppose that is a word that could be used to describe my intentions,” he admitted. Virgil chuckled. “You suck at seducing,” he informed him before laying a hand to his waist and turning him, walking him back until he was stuck between the desk and Virgil’s body. “But lucky for you, I’m already sold,” he said softly. “Just need to know. Is this…” Logan nodded breathlessly. “I’ve never pursued anyone I had interest in before,” he admitted. Virgil laid his free hand against Logan’s cheek and Logan felt his breath hitch. This was far more nerve wracking than he expected. “Then I’ll be sure to make this memorable,” Virgil promised. And then Virgil was kissing him. It was a surprising sensation. Logan had expected a physical reaction of some sort. But this felt like taking a sip of water and realizing you were in dire need of a drink. Like eating and realizing you are starved for food. Kissing Virgil was filling a need he didn’t realize he’d been neglecting and quickly realized he needed far more off. Virgil had smiled into him at his eagerness. They kissed for a long time before Virgil pulled back. “Gotta save some for the second date… If you want…” Logan had nodded without hesitation. He didn’t mind doing this a second time. It had been exciting and fulfilling and fun. It was well worth the risk. He hadn’t realized, stupidly, that Virgil wasn’t just having fun. And not until months later did he realize that he wanted more than just fun as well. But surely Virgil would grow bored of him soon. He had far more friends than Logan expected. He hadn’t been able to match all the nicknames to faces, but clearly he’d had a big support group back in highschool. And he was handsome and charming and could have anyone he fancied. He’d realize that soon and then it would be over, because he didn’t think that Virgil was really interested in him. Until one night. Their date ended the same as all had. In the storage room. Tonight Virgil was sat on the desk and Logan was taking lead. They’d had a great night and Logan was once again hit with the realization that this would end soon. He was a little more eager because of that. And that was when Virgil stopped him. “Starlight. Hold on. Gotta cool down,” he said. “Why?” Logan had complained craving his… Virgil’s closeness. “Because… Well… I’ve been thinking. And I don’t want to push you. But. Logan, we’ve been doing this for six months and I get if you don’t feel safe being out. But… I would like to at least be able to tell our friends? Me and Ro have gotten a good space now. And I know he would give us the room if we needed it. It would be nice. Don’t you think? Not hiding all the time? Just… I want to be honest with my friends. Princey already has his suspicions and it’s getting so hard to deny it. I’m sure Patton has noticed to. He’s your best friend after all. Would it be okay? If we told them at least?” Logan was confused. “Tell them… What?” he’d asked. Virgil had let out a laugh. But it

hadn’t been right. “You… About us… I mean we’ve been… The past six months we… At least I thought…” That was when Logan finally realized. Virgil all this time had genuinely liked him. “You… You have romantic feelings for me,” he realized out loud. And he knew. He knew how this would sound. He was still stunned when he was violently pushed to the ground and Virgil jumped off the desk to pick up his things. “I’m so stupid! Of course you never… You just… Just like in highschool. All I’m good for is to piss of someone’s parents!” he ranted. Tears in his voice and Logan felt like every word was a knife slicing through something intangible in his core. He suddenly understood people believing in a soul. This felt like Virgil’s words were cutting into his very soul. He was right and wrong and Logan couldn’t bring himself to talk. “Hope it was fun. But I won’t be doing an encore!” Virgil declared before storming out. And then Logan curled up into a ball and cried. He cried until he grabbed his phone and called Patton. He needed his advice. Patton listened to the entire story and was, understandably disappointed. But he also told Logan what he should do to fix it. Virgil deserved to know the whole truth. Logan was too much of a coward to go to Virgil’s apartment though. He didn’t want to run into the roommate Virgil had referred to as BFG among many hero and royalty related nicknames. And occasionally ‘Ro’. Apparently he’d been his best friend since elementary or something and Logan had been too embarrassed to ask who exactly Virgil referred to. He felt he should have noticed who this best friend was back in school considering how much Virgil had noticed about him. One thing was for sure. This roommate was big and strong and protective of Virgil. Logan would be jealous if Virgil hadn’t mentioned he was aroace. Though he never had a right to be jealous in the first place and certainly not now. In any regard, he doubted he’d get past that bodyguard. So like a coward he decided to try and catch Virgil on his gig of that weekend. Hoping to get a moment with him after he got of stage. He was relieve to see Virgil hadn’t called off the gig. But seeing him on that stage, looking tired and angry with the world, that stung. Because he knew he was responsible for that look on his face. And then Roman Bello joined him on the stage. Roman was built like a jock. Remus’ twin brother and only now did Logan realize that he was in fact, the best friend Virgil had mentioned over the past six months. The set consisted almost exclusively out of angry songs about rejection and heartbreak. Virgil apologized for the set and explained he’d had a shitty week and he was making it everyone’s problem. Apparently his audience did not mind. Logan wished he’d come to see any of the sets Virgil had invited him to in the past. He should have come. He’d been such a… A… A dickhead. How had Virgil put up with him so long? He’d had the most patient partner in the world and he’d hurt him. They closed off the set with a song that was literally about a boy who knew a girl was just using him to upset her parents. Roman and Virgil did great. Logan was just constantly consumed by guilt and could not fully appreciate it. After what strangely felt like both an eternity and a second at the same time, Virgil ended the set and got off stage with Roman. Logan hurried over and managed to follow them to the back. “Virgil!” he called out desperate to get his attention. Virgil froze and that was all Roman needed. Logan was slammed against the wall and he instinctively raised his hands in surrender. “Roman!” Virgil called in shock. “You are the reason he’s been like this all week!?” the thespian growled. Logan swallowed and nodded. “Yes… He is right to be upset with me. I just… He deserves to know the whole truth. I’ll leave him alone after that. But I don’t want him to be left with questions. I know him well enough to know that that is bad for his mental wellbeing. I won’t even ask you to leave. You can throw me out the moment you think I am worsening the situation,” he

swore. Roman glared at him for a moment and then let go. He took a step back. “Go ahead.” He growled. Logan slowly turned to look at Virgil. “You have no reason to hear me out. Or to forgive me. But… But I want you to know… It started out the way you think it went. I wanted to rebel. Take a risk while I could still afford them. And you came in and it seemed perfect. I was very singularly focused on what I expected to happen and did not see the signs of your genuine affection for me. I should have. And when you suggested a second date, I agreed despite only planning for that one day initially. I liked being with you. It took me two months to realize what that meant. And not until last week did I realize that you wanted more out of the relationship than I was giving. I thought the arrangement suited you. I was self-centered and did not even try to gage where you stood. I assumed you would grow bored of me and I did not blame you for that. I assumed you and I were on the same page this whole time. I did not think to verify because… I didn’t want to confirm being right. When I realized that you… That this whole time you considered our relationship to be romantic in nature I was… I was overwhelmed. But that is no excuse for how I hurt you. I…” “Shut up and kiss me,” Virgil sobbed. Logan blinked. He’d had more to say, a lot more. He’d been rambling is he was honest but still. But… Virgil wanted him to… “What?” he asked. “You heard the man. I’ll give you the hall,” Roman grumbled, still not a fan of Logan, clearly. Logan was completely shocked. And then he was being hugged. “You are such an idiot. But I know you struggle with the emotional side of things. I was angry because I have some issues I still need to work through myself. I should have given you a chance to explain yourself. But I was not in the headspace to listen,” Virgil explained, tears still flowing. “Logan I I.” Logan pulled back and looked at him. There was a lot of talking to be done. Between the two of them and with their friends and family. But for now. “Shut up and kiss me,” he whispered. Kissing Virgil, was like coming home after a long journey.

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#analogical #ts sides #sandres sides #platonic prinxiety #angst #cursing #long post

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Mattress Comfort | Ashton Irwin

Summary; Ashton comes home, and as his girlfriend’s sponsor, and of course lover, he is there to help her get through her difficulties.

Warnings; depression, angst, mentions of self harm, fluff, sponsoring. Do not read if this is triggering.

It was late when Ash got home from the studio, he had been conjoining lyrics to fathom a musical world that would encase him away from dark thoughts, or possibilities of mental torture.

A while back, he had began to attend meetings for his depression, it was no secret that in the past that he had suffered with a well known thing called depression, many people in the world had it.

It was a gripping sensation, one that reminded its victim that they were never good enough, and could never possibly be. The energy to do the simplest tasks was lacklustre, the tank was left near on empty.

That was where he had met his partner, at the meetings. He was inclined to spend more time together outside of your mandatory hours of attendance, simply because he wanted to. Ashton was smitten with you, and you happened to be his first potential love interest who understood his struggles.

So when he arrived home, the place blanketed in darkness and the living room left untouched, except from an empty packet of Doritos, he knew what kind of mood you were being affected by.

The curtains hadn’t even been opened since the prior day, and so he drew them, blinking hastily at the intruding light. It hurt his eyes, but what made him ache more was knowing that you were currently struggling, so he went towards your safe place; your room.

Although you had been the only person at home, the door was still closed, it was no surprise. It was a barricade of protection, closure from the rest of your life. Ash remembered as a teen and young adult, he would do the exact same thing. And so he pried it open by the handle, and found a lump of duvet wrapped around you.

It was even falling out of the cover, some of the poppers undone, but that was the least of your worries, especially when there were already so many. Ashton made slow footsteps, shutting the door behind himself, and switching the light on, causing you to burrow further into your personal nest.

“Hey honey, how are you feeling?” He already was aware of the answer, but he asked nevertheless. You needed to be enquired about your feelings to feel as though someone cared, so he took that mantle. It hit him add seeing you like this, he wanted nothing more than to join you in your amputated bubble, however it wasn’t healthy, and he always had to remind himself that it wasn’t for you either.

“Fine.” Was your mumbled response, your lips brushing against the pillow that your unwashed hair had been resting on a while back. “How was work?” It was a distraction, to enquire about his day in return, so that he wouldn’t pry any more at your physical or mental state.

“I missed you.” His rough fingertips gently brushed over your covered form, allowing you to know that he was right by you, and preparing to peel them away from you. “Mikey was telling me about this new restaurant, I think we should go out tonight, get some fresh air.”

“I’m busy, got work to finish, but maybe tomorrow.” He didn’t get mad at your excuses, mostly because he couldn’t. It wasn’t merely an excuse, you probably did have work, but were putting it off because of your present head space.

“Okay.” Ashton nodded, replying softly as his hands raked down the sheets, and revealed your tiresome and resting face. “You should have called me if you were feeling like this.” He reminded you, his hand tracing over your cheekbone so gently that the contact was barely there.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You said honestly, a light frown finding it’s way onto your face. “You’re so busy, and your work is important, I can get through this by myself, I don’t have to drag you down with me.”

“Nothing is more important than you y/n.” He spoke seriously, meaning his every word. If it were necessary, such as an instance as this, he would drop everything in that moment, and rush home or wherever the hell you were.

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t only his duty as a boyfriend to be prepared for when you needed someone, but as your sponsor. The contract was mutual, but he was feeling slightly better, but your worriesome behaviour made him want to crash down all over again.

But he swore to himself that he couldn’t. He wasn’t the only person he needed to be strong for anymore, you depended on him, and despite you seeing that as a burden, he was more than happy to come at your beck and call.

“Don’t lie, please.” You whispered helplessly, pulling at the strings of Ashton’s heart. If you could, you’d rewind time to hours before, so that you could go back to staring at the ceiling, and Ash would be at the studio, hanging and relaxing and laughing with his boys.

“I’d never lie to you baby.” He contradicted and corrected you, slowly pulling you up to be seated against the headboard. It was a better position, considering the fact that you had probably been laying down all day and waiting for multiple reasons to force yourself up so you could go and pee.

You wanted to believe him so bad, but that voice in the back of your head began its mad barking, and threw every possibility of that out it’s back door. It was truly difficult to live with an invisible illness, not everybody understood.

At least Ashton did though, that was one true relief and blessing. But simultaneously it wasn’t, because that meant that he had endured such thought and self harm, and he was too beautiful to suffer like you were.

“I-”

“Let’s just go have a shower, yeah. And then we can put on something you haven’t watched before, get out of your comfort zone a little, and cuddle on the sofa, with a proper dinner instead of snacks.” He knew your every move, your every flaw, bu he loved them all the same.

There was nothing that he could do to permanently render the pain away, but sometimes he could temporarily distract you, and that was today’s plan. Tomorrow could be another story, you could dressed up to go out, and change your mind because of your nerves to call a cab home, because you thought the driver may judge you from their front seat, but that was okay.

It was mandatory that each day was taken a step at a time, it was still overwhelming nevertheless, but Ashton felt a wave of happiness cast over him as you reluctantly nodded your head, and despite not wanting to, slipped out of your bed.

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poisonousroxstar · 3 years

Text

Imagine:

Wally with a cheerful trainer s/o, who's dying from an illness

Trigger warning: dying reader, dead reader. Illness. Angst. Toxicly positive reader? Possible grammar mistakes.

Wally first met you on the day he was going to get his very first pokemon! To his surprise, you were here for the same thing! Norman was nice enough to lend you both a spare Pokémon and balls for you two!

He remembers how nerve-wracking but thrilling it was catching his ralts. When he did, you praised him! And gosh, he couldn't help but blush at your comment.

He invited you over to his parents house, and you both became quickly familiar with one another; becoming friends (and also rivals) very quickly!

Since both of your pokemon were relatively weak, the two of you decided to train together.

Eventually, you were confident that your Pokémon was ready to take on the first gym! Wally wasn't nearly as confident though, thus you two parted ways.

You told Wally you'd see him around! Giving him a gleeful smile that made his heart skip a beat. It appeared he had a small crush..

You guys wouldn't meet again until the second gym. Wally had moved to come stay with his uncle, and by then he had gotten a little stronger! When he saw you, Wally couldn't help but get a little giddy and blush ever so slightly.

After your guys' battle, his uncle invited you over to his home. He noticed how his nephew was behaving, and thought it might be good to bring over his crush!

You cheerfully accepted! And even wanted to race Wally there! Although, that didn't work out as his condition rendered running a bit.... Problematic. Soo, instead of that, you trailed alongside him and chatted about your adventures and experiences so far.

You sort of took a break on your journey to spend time with the lime haired boy. And he couldn't have been more thrilled!

At first, you two trained together. Being on break didn't mean you couldn't get some experience in!

Eventually, you two started doing everything together. Hanging out and enjoying the beautiful area, especially the flowers. Fooling around, even if Wally sometimes protested against your ideas. And lazing together during uneventful days.

It was on one of those days you asked about his condition, and what it was that forced him to move to his uncles.

Wally paused for a moment, before replying with an answer. He thought that by becoming a trainer, he could become stronger, both as a person and with his illness.

His answer made you admire him, and you felt like you owed him something in return. So, with your cheerful tone that made beautiflies flutter in his tummy, you said:

"well... I'm technically dying!"

Wally gave you a shocked expression, and almost thought you were joking because of your tone.

But it wasn't a joke, unfortunately. You told him you had an illness that was slowly killing. You became a trainer as a way to see the entire region before your death, and take on the gyms in an attempt to become the champion of hoenn!

Wally stayed with a shocked expression "s/o... I'm so sorry..". You hushed him, saying that you weren't afraid of it, or sad. Maybe you were a long time ago but now? You were fine!

To lighten the mood, you reassured him that everything was ok. Wally was awed at how much you accepted your fate. He understood, since he had his own issues as well, but to know you were dying and still be happy? He doesn't think even he could be as jolly.

You brightened up the somber atmosphere with optimism, stating that you were here, and ready to make the most out of everything!

Wally couldn't help his racing heart when you smiled. Your cheerfulness and determination made him feel so warm and fuzzy inside. It was more then obvious he had a massive crush on you, and in a way, you returned those feelings as well.

Once that was clear cut, you decided to ask him out! Gosh, he was a blushing mess when you did, stuttering over his words and behaving more meek then normal. But... He accepted, a small smile on his lips.

The date was simple, but very cute. You two were strolling together around both Verdanturf town and Mauville city. The old couple of the daycare even let you both help tend with some of the pokemon. Although Wally was a bit hesitant, the pokemon cooed to his gentleness and calm nature. It was truly a precious moment!

It didn't take much time for you two to become a thing! Although yous never said it directly, it was clear as day you two were helplessly in love with each other.

It was also around this time you and Wally decided to resume your pokemon journey. Wally suggested you two stick together for the remainder of it, and you found the idea cute, so you two did!

But the plan didn't last too long.. halfway through your two's adventure, you began to cough. You often didn't think much of it, since it was something that happened a lot for you. Given your conditions and... everything.

But once you looked down at your hand, you noticed it was stained with.... Blood? You had coughed out blood, some of it coming out in small clumps.

This hadn't happened before, and you were actually... Very scared. Perhaps because it reminded you of your morality.. or because of Wally.

You couldn't let him see you like this. What would happen? How would he react? The last thing you wanted was to suspend his own adventure just because of you.

Wally noticed how quiet you got after your coughing fit, and asked if something was wrong. You hid away your bloody hand and hastily wiped any remaining traces of blood on your mouth, turning to him with your smile that always tug on his heartstrings "Yep! I'm fine! Just..."

You had to find an excuse. A way so Wally wouldn't suspect something. So, in a slightly sudden voice, you told Wally it was time to part ways.

At first, he interpreted it as you breaking up with him, which left him confused and very hurt; but when you explained it was just because you wanted to get the next gym badge, he sighed in relief you weren't ending the relationship. Although he was still puzzled by why you wanted to go on your own and a part of him didn't want you to leave. Something didn't feel right.

But you reassured him you'd see him again! And told him you two could still keep in contact through the phone! Although he still felt like something was... off... Wally just chopped it up to him being paranoid, and maybe even a little bit possessive? He wasn't sure, relationships were such a new concept to him.

With that and a peck on the cheek, you took off! And Wally waved you goodbye.

Wally then decided, he needed to get stronger! He hoped that the next time you two saw each other, you'd be impressed with how much he improved as a trainer and as a person, who wasn't bound to his illness.

Illness.. that's right, you were also sick, but much worse. Honestly, you were so good at hiding and quickly recovering from the symptoms, Wally almost forgot you were dying..

His chest ached at the thought of you dying. One of his fears was you dying before he could even talk with you again. His heart held so much love for you, and Wally wished that somehow he could take away your pain...

But your numbered days served as motivation. He wanted to get stronger, for you. He wanted to show you how far he came, and how far you've come!

Wally believed in you as well. He found you admirable for your optimism. He thought you could do anything! And that, even if you were dying, you'd survive, and make it.

Wishful thinking, I suppose.

But as Wally got stronger, you only grew weaker. The doctors you had visited said your condition had suddenly worsen out of the blue.

They said, at best, they could give you a few extra weeks of life. Maybe a month or 3, but you'd be heavily restricted. At that point, you'd be stuck to a hospital bed; your journey finishing right then and there.

So, you went against what they said. You held onto hope that, at the very least, you'd be able to collect all the gym badges.

Your calls with Wally became a bit more frequent, which he didn't reject to. Actually, he was really, really happy to hear you! Sometimes he'd get scared that something awful happened to you, so hearing your voice helped calm him.

You avoided telling him the truth though, instead asking about him, his Pokemon, and how far he is. Wally answered every question you had, becoming especially bright regarding his trainer status. You could hear the light and excitement irradiating from his voice, which made you smile.

When he asked about yours, you put on a cheery voice as you often did. Telling him everything was grand! You'd gotten a lot stronger, and had managed to collect another gym badge!

He congratulated you, saying how awesome you were! He asked if, when you two met again, you'd be willing to battle him.

You paused for a moment, not sure how to reply. You didn't want him to see you, not in your slowly deteriorating state. But at the same time you missed him. You wanted to see him again, physically. So, with an unheard reluctance, you agreed to the brawl!

Wally was concerned. You had never sounded so meek before. Never sounded so resistant to see him. He wondered if he did something wrong? If he displeased you someway. He tried not to let it get to his head, but the thought did irk him.

..when Wally finally saw you, he noticed how different you looked. Wally wasn't oblivious, but he didn't know how to bring it up. So, for the time being, you guys caught up! You told Wally how far you've gotten so far, and showed off your collection of badges! You also showed him your Pokemon, how strong they had gotten.

But Wally kept quiet, or replied only in short sentences. You notice his concern expression intensify upon bringing your Pokemon out. Their faces showed hints of sadness.

Finally, Wally asked if you were ok. Your quick reply more or less confirmed you weren't, despite your response portraying the contrary.

He took your hand into his and told you softly that, it's ok if you don't want to tell him. He just wants to make sure you're fine. His skin was so soft you had just noticed, and his delicate hold brought you comfort.

So, with hesitance, you finally told him what was happening. You told him how your illness had advanced, how limited your time was, what they adviced and why you went against it.

Wally looked at you with shock and sadness, but he tried not to overreact. Instead, he held you.

You brushed off his concern, and challenged him to a battle! Wally was stunned by how quickly you tried shifting the topic, and he declined at first. But you reminded him of the ole' trainer rule:

If two trainers lock eyes with one another, it is mandatory they begin a battle!

You wanted to distract yourself and him. You didn't want your illness to be a burden. At the very least you wanted to enjoy the time you had with him instead of focusing solely on you.

When the battle concluded, as if on cue, you coughed out. Wally could tell you were in pain, even if you tried playing it off as if you weren't. He quickly came to you, asking what was wrong and if he needed to call the hospital!

You weakly say it's fine, but Wally rebuked in an attempt to bring you back to reality. It was obvious you weren't 'fine', and he tried to convince you to go see a doctor; at the very least they could offer you some sort of pain reliever!

What was only worry for your well-being evolved into an argument. Even if you put on a happy face and chipper persona, you were suppressing a lot of emotions, and Wally was the unfortunate 'pin to the balloon'.

You let everything pour out, such poisonous words being thrown at him. Wally was stunned into silence by you, only able to endure your verbal assault. Your toxicity would of likely continued if another coughing fit hadn't taken over.

But this time, you weren't able to hide the pain. Your coughs rapidly grew worse, and the ache became too much to the point where your legs buckled in.

Wally panicked when he saw you dropping, but was able to keep calm enough to call the ambulance. He tried to help you as much as he could, but he didn't know what to do. Even you didn't.

When help finally arrived you had completely knocked out, a sickening pool of dark crimson pouring from your mouth that had convinced Wally for a moment that you were gone.

You were rushed to the nearest hospital. Wally wanted to come along with you, but the doctors refused and didn't take the precious time to hear his pleas.

..for the next few days, all Wally could think about was you. His journey had reached another stop, and he tried to stay at the hospital for as long as he could.

The only people he seemed to interact with was his gardivour, his uncle, and his parents. Other then that he had turned completely mute.

He felt guilty, as if this was his fault. The last thing you'd remember if you didn't make it was the two of you getting into an argument. Maybe if he hadn't been so pushy, you wouldn't of had a fit and be here.

He knew it was dumb to think like that, but he couldn't help it.

Sometimes, he'd visit your Pokemon who had been transported to a daycare in the hospital. They seemed just as scared as Wally was, but he knew fearing wouldn't do anything; it wasn't what you wanted either.

So, he tried to be positive. He thought you'd be able to pull through. You were one of the strongest people he knew!

You couldn't die yet, not when you hadn't even completed the gym challenges!

His optimism brought hope to your Pokemon, and to him as well! But Wally was split if he truly believed in what he just preached.

And every day that passed. Every hour you remained in your bed, motionless minus your chest pumping up and down from a machine you were hooked up with.

That hope grew dimmer and dimmer.

Sometimes he'd talk to you, gently rubbing your hand. Your guardian(s) allowed him to be near you, which he couldn't be more thankful for.

He'd tell you about his day, how boring the hospital was. He wondered if you could hear him? He hoped you could.

Wally missed you. He missed you so, so much. He missed seeing you walking around, he missed hearing your voice; he just wanted you.

Wally tried to pull himself together. He didn't want to seem weak in front of you, not when you needed the utmost attention right now. But he couldn't control himself for long.

Wally's gentle whimpers grew into uncontrollable crying. He was pleading to you, pleading to anyone, begging anyone to just---not take you away.

"P-please, S/O... I can't lose you. I...I love you!"

He wanted his words to reach you somehow, so that maybe... Maybe you would wake up.

But no amount of love laced words could pull you from your eternal slumber.

Your heart monitor began dropping. The beating of the machine inducing an intense anxiety into Wally. He cried out for help, and the doctors and nurses flooded the room like water.

Wally was pushed outside the room and force to watch as the medical team desperately tried to revive you. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when every attempt resulted in nothing. No response, nothing.

The doctor came up to Wally, a sad expression on his face. The world went silent. He was muttering out words, lips moving, but Wally couldn't hear anything.

He didn't need to. He knew.

And he just breaks..

He's crying, perhaps even hyperventilating as the doctors attempted to calm him down. Wally knew you were gone. He thought he would be prepared for it, but the impact was too much for him to handle.

He cries, he cries a lot.

And then your funeral comes, but there aren't any tears. Not because he isn't sad, but because he can't squeeze anymore out. He just looks at your coffin in melancholy.

For awhile, Wally doesn't leave his house. When he returned to his parents, he is was nearly mute, and only stayed inside. All that progress had regressed, and he was back to his old self.

Wally wanted to care for your Pokemon himself, but he just wasn't in a good place. He couldn't even care for his own Pokemon, but they understood; your death affected them as well.

With some outside help from his family and his/your Pokemon, Wally slowly got better. Slow, but better.

It was painful for him, but he had to accept keeping you in memory while moving on.

He likes to think you'd want him to go forward, complete his journey. And he came up with a motivator; he couldn't be doing it for himself now, but for the both of you.

He'd do this. For you, and for himself.

He'll get stronger. He'll get braver. Because that's what you may of wanted from him.

Wally would never love someone as much as he did you. You mean the world to him. If only you two had more time together.

Wally will always miss you. The pain will lessen, perhaps even some of his feelings. But his love for you will mostly remain intact.

Wally would visit your grave frequently. But as time went on, the visits became less frequent. Still, he always brought your favourite gifts and most times your Pokemon came along with him.

He'll never forget you. Never.

This lovely artist is the person, I believe, made the drawing! I didn't ask for permission however, so if they ask me to remove the art, I shall!

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Text

Romanced Companions react to Sole Shusing Them With A Kiss.

(Enemies or argument.)

Cait:

Listen, she loved it when you surprised her with kisses- but why now? The two of you were just finished with a shoot out- did her blowing a raider’s head off really arouse you that much? Must have, seeing as you suddenly toppled her over and made her duck behind the old rickety bar of the hotel lobby- making sure your lips stayed right on her own.

That’s when she caught onto the cause of your sudden lust.

Footsteps, quite a few of them at that. Footsteps slowly moving further away from the two of you.

Fuck.

Curie:

She just knew that this “Museum of Witchcraft” thing was a terrible idea. She knew it from the second she saw the mangled remains of some unfortunate soul outside and she especially knew it whenever you lead her up the stairs.

What really got her was the pure dread in her stomach when she laid eyes on the slumbering beast held within, a soft gasp erupting from her- only to be stopped by you pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, quick to begin backing away to safety.

Had it not been for the inherent danger in front of you, she might’ve just been excited and pleased with the contact.

Oh well, she’ll get you back for it later when death wasn’t almost a guarantee.

Danse:

It was far and few between that he would argue with you, but with how stubborn both he and yourself were- it was only a matter of time until you butted heads on something. He still didn’t like it but that surely didn’t stop him from adamantly bickering back- at least until you let out a frustrated growl, your eyes a pool of fiery fury as you grasped the back of his head- fingers tugging pulling his short hair and forcing him down from his larger stature and into a rough kiss.

At first he was surprised, amber eyes wide and a startled moan spilling from his lips. That quickly dissipated into his eyes fluttering closed, the anger he felt transforming into butterflies in his stomach.

Even as you tried to pull away, his head would follow your’s in attempt to savor the kiss.

What were you arguing about again?

Deacon:

Deacon knew that his humor could at the very worst- be ill timed and annoying, but that was the beauty of it..right? Well, sure. Especially whenever he brought to the breaking point of your nerves- seeing your eye visibly twitch before you whipped around to face him , practically seething when you roughly pressed a kiss to his annoying lips. If only you could’ve seen behind his sunglasses, his eyes having almost doubled in size in response.

Needless to say, he never had someone shut him up like that.

Gage:

Though it didn’t happen often, sometimes Gage just couldn’t help himself but get mouthy with you. Nothing terrible mean, just the occasional complaint. However he never got far- just like now..

As soon as he rolled his eye at you, you forcefully pulled him to you by his ass- keeping him firmly in place so you could press your lips against his, biting down onto the plump flesh right when he attempted to kiss back.

“Dotcha dare forget who I am, understand?” “Fuck..yes, boss.”

Hancock:

Look here, he didn’t think it was a good idea- but seeing how eagerly you threw yourself at him, he couldn’t help but eagerly kiss back. Even reaching down to cup his hands around the curve of your backside and pull you deeper into the pleasant surprise of your kiss. He even though that he may get a little more out of this affection, maybe even get to try outdoor sex in the alleyway- until you pulled away with wide eyes.

Before he could ask what was wrong, he heard your giggle quietly- pointing over towards the sewage drain that had a pair of menacing horns slowly descending down.

Oh shit.

Macready:

For having such good vision and talent, Mac was terrible at sensing danger- but not nearly as bad as he was at keeping his damn mouth shut.

Gasping, you quickly pulled Mac back around the corner of the old brick building- praying to a higher being that it would provide enough cover- before caving him in with your hands and kissing him, using your own body weight to keep him perfectly still.

Whenever you finally deemed it safe, you withdrew and he gazed upon you with a lovestruck expression- a pretty blush dusting his face.

“Youre going to end up killing me one day..”

And yes...he was still somehow completely unaware of the lack of mongrels prowling the street over.

Maxson:

I think we all know that Arthur is proud, stubborn, and very much so opinionated. Put all that together and you have a recipe for a person willing to relentlessly argue, even with the person he loved the most.

Luckily, you would not stand for it. All acknowledgment of his superior rank and reputation flying out the window as you grabbed him by his coat lapels, shaking your head one last finale time before crushing your lips against his to make him shut up.

His head felt like it was spinning, the obvious need to push you away being thrown from his kind in favor of relishing the sudden contact. No matter what he wanted to do, you had succeeded- having rendered him speechless even after you broke away.

Nick Valentine:

He thought that surely you had lost your mind. The place was crawling with all kinds of unsavory characters and yet you for some reason thought that now was a good time for smooching? I mean, he wouldn’t dare ever push you away but this was a seriously bad lapse in judgement.

At least that is what he though up until he saw the feral ghouls off to the far corner of the subway car stumble into another section.

If he could soil his pants, that would’ve been the time.

Old Longfellow:

No, Absolutely not. Do it, even for good reasons and he’ll bend you over his knee and swat your ass like the little brat you were being.

Piper:

Piper was nothing if not passionate. That much was certain.

Due to her nature and her sometimes extreme opinions, arguments were unfortunately inevitable. Especially if you were sympathetic towards the institue.

Sometimes they just got so bad, both of yelling at each other without saying much of anything at all. That’s when actions would become the only reasonable solution, and you were not one to delay. Pushing forward, you’d grab her by her shoulders- pulling her to you without second thought and silencing the both of you in a rough, toothy kiss.

She’d of course not take too kindly to being interrupted, but because it was you...next thing she knew, she was wrapping her legs around your waist and moaning into your mouth.

Preston:

Goddamn Mirelurks. Ever the scourge of the castle, hardly ever worth wasting the ammunition though.

Rolling your eyes, you noticed the movement behind your lover’s back. However the panic set in whenever he opened his mouth to speak.

Unable to formulate any other idea, you promptly grabbed him by his upper arm, pushed him against the stony wall of your fortress before kissing him.

Boy was he shocked when he figured out what gotten into you.

Sturges:

Sturges was usually a very easy going man, so when the two of you “argued” it wasn’t like how most couples did. For instance, like now..it was nothing serious, more or less him griping at you for eating the last of his reserved snack cakes out of the cabinet.

Honestly, you knew you were wrong for it- but that surely didn’t stop the pleased smile on your face as you sauntered up to him, your hips bouncing side to side until you were close enough to wrap your arms around his neck and stop him from pestering you any more by shushing him with a kiss.

“There, is that sweet enough for you?” “Uh, I..I think so. *chuckle*.”

X6-88:

Honestly he was more surprised with the occasion more than your abrupt actions.

Everything had been going so smoothly, the two of you walking the streets of Boston ruins with an unnatural calmness. At least that is until he went to open his mouth and speak, to which you quickly raised to the tips of your toes and stopped his words before they could even form with a searing kiss.

His gloved fingers would instinctively press into your arms, unknowing wether he should push you away or if he should pull you closer. Regardless of what he wanted, he didn’t have time to decide because all too soon- you had pulled away.

It was later on that he figured out that there was a whole ass supermutant group walking the alleyway over.

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boxboysandotherwhump · 3 years

Text

Monsters and mushrooms

Tags: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @moose-teeth @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript

A Nature fun fact: Bioluminescent mushrooms do exist actually and snails have the habit to foam when distressed in order to deter predators and protect their soft body from tiny satans like ants.

Chapter 4

CW: emotional overload, negative stimming, fear of abandonment, hints at past abusive parent

Sahar hasted up to the farm, stumbling on the crooked steps.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to cry but he’d forgotten how to stop and the world around him dissolved into a melted aquarelle painting of leaves and grass and roots as he stormed past the house.

He wedged himself between the root and the old stump they chop firewood on, eyes fixed on the axe still rammed inside, his back hitting the root over and over and over again, while he purged all the unwanted feelings from his body through movement.

There would be bruises tomorrow, Sahar thought when his violent rocking finally slowed into a gentle rhythm.

His lips trembled around one long shaky exhale and his tears finally subsided. Their tracks were only crusty streaks of salt water now, not overwhelming aches.

Sometimes, Sahar hated his body, hated it for being overwhelmed by the stupidest things, hated to have a brain full of misfiring neurons at war with themselves. A brain that made it unbelievably more difficult to exist, as what he was, in this world.

Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment.

But for what?

“Sahar?” Moira’s head peeked over the root and her worried face peered down at his cowering form. “There you are, sweetheart.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, only tugged his knees tight to his chest, ready to hide his face from whatever scolding was to come.

There had always been reprehension when he hadn’t been able to behave himself. Until all of his mother’s angry words hadn’t been enough and she’d abandoned him. At long last.

Ugly icky fear gnawed away at his insides, a sharp toothed beast he desperately wanted to banish but couldn’t. He rocked up against the root once more. Let his shoulder blades collide with it until he felt the scratch of rough bark through his grey linen shirt.

Sometimes his thoughts paused, stayed on safe routes and away from the maelstroms of his ever racing mind when he rocked or tapped or hummed enough. But now was no such time. .

Sahar’s thoughts spun and spiraled. Crashed violently into one another on their collision curses.

Please don’t throw me out. Away. I can behave. I can be disciplined. I promise. I promise. I promise. Please!

The curtain closed and left the window dark.

“Sahar?”

Wait.

There were no curtains here. And no city streets. No concrete roads or bleeding knees.

Only warm earth under his fingertips.

A long grass blade brushed his calf and Sahar closed his eyes to focus on the barely there tickle against his skin. The expansion of his ribcage, how it filled with the lavender scented air, inherent to his home, on every inhale and his eyes fluttered open.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Here. Here. Here. And I can stay.

Moira began to heave Asmodea over the root with a loud huff that had Sahar instantly uncurl and twist around to take the snail with a firm, gentle grip from her arms. The snail immediately clung onto him as best as her soft slimy body allowed, wiggling in exasperated little waves until Sahar finally sat back down and put her over his lap.

“There, there baby. There you you you, there you go.”

He couldn’t help but smile as Asmodea draped herself flat over his legs, making no move to retreat into her shining shell. It’s brown and black stripes still shimmered from the shower Sahar had given her yesterday.

“Sahar? Can you listen to me?”

Hunching protectively over Asmodea, he gave a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Moira didn’t like it when she had to repeat herself. It made her livid when he or Ansgar ended up absorbed in one-

Ansgar.

Something hot and heavy lodged itself in Sahar’s throat at the memory of his furious gaze. Ansgar had never looked at him like this, ever before, but Sahar realized why, now, after he had a moment to collect his racing thoughts, to calm his hammering heart. He really had been bad. Immature, thoughtless, utterly ludicrous.

But even so he knew. God how he knew.

Even after everything-

“Ansgar and Eric persuaded the… headhunter, to try his luck up in Berlin.” Moira began, lips pursed in displeasure. “Your house arrest remains nevertheless. Don’t give me that look. You’ve been irresponsible and ill-mannered, young man. No matter how good a reason you may think you had, you have to control yourself.”

A protest burned on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed the sizzle of anger down, buried it deep inside himself where all his other unsafe emotions were banished.

“I know. I I- I’m sorry.”

Moira shook her head with a sigh, grey curls swishing softly from side to side. “Just be better from now on and stay put for the next few days. No strolling through the farm woods either.”

His fingers began to tap an anxious rhythm onto Asmodea’s shell, while her body pulsed in soothing waves over his thighs. One of her eyes gently nudged his forearm.

“What, uhm what, but if if if one of the snails, if one gets lost and-“

Moira’s strict tone nipped his tender try at backtalk at the bud, rendering him silent for good.

“Ansgar and I will take care of that then. I have to go now. The others already left to check the InD-Unit’s for a possible breakthrough. I don’t trust one word out of this guy’s mouth, and I expect you to stay close to the house. Did I make myself clear?”

The scar on his arm stretched uncomfortably as he curled tighter around Asmodea, desperate for his friend’s silent support. Their soft body wiggled gently in response.

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

“We gonna go pick glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms! Glowy shrooms!”

Mara shrieked, running in circles around Charlotte, a woven basket clutched tightly in her small brown hands. Her yellow hairband fluttered and the ‘thud thud thud’ of her prosthetic leg got drowned out by the other children’s laughter, hot on her heels in a tumultuous chase for the basket.

A small pale boy broke out into a bright grin as he caught himself from stumbling over the hem of his pants, way too long for his small, stubby legs.

“Did Julian steal Hanne’s clothes again?” Kaja emerged from one of the orphanage’s many crooked entrances with a box of flashlights under one arm. A bag full of pocket knives dangled from the other as she dodged a low hanging wooden beam with practiced ease.

Charlotte took the box from her with an irritated sigh. “I’m glad he’s wearing clothes at all, this time.”

“Are you sure you can handle them on your own?”

Kajas cocky grin vanished under Charlotte icy glare. Blue eyes frosted over as she yanked the bag from Kajas hands and shouted: “Everyone who does not want to stay home lines up here now! You don’t lose your flashlight and when I see one pocket knife flicked open for anything other than picking mushrooms you celebrate the festival in your room. Am I clear?”

The children’s excited shrieks died in an instant as they hurried to get in line, waiting obediently for Charlotte to hand every one of them their items and making a show off storing them dutifully away in their pants pockets and backpacks.

The perfect picture of orderly compliance.

Everyone knew it would last for as long as it would take them to leave the orphanages grounds.

___

The academy yard’s gravel crunched under Gideon’s boots as he snuck away from yet another disciplinary task. He had scrubbed all the bathrooms to shine in the past, had assisted in the kitchen more than once, and had sorted the trainings gear enough times to know it by heart.

Sometimes he even understood why it always ended up like this.

What he couldn’t understand, however, was having to clean up the entire two story training hall because that stupid farm boy provoked him. For once, he hadn’t even done anything. At least nothing that wouldn’t have been deserved.

Not that the little shit had been helpless.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Gideon nearly choked at his upperclassman’s call. His hands clutched the spear’s strap dangling from his shoulder tighter and he turned to face the young man who had hurried over from their living quarters. His dark thick brows were harsh, frowning lines in a permanently stern face.

“Berkan.” The corners of Gideon’s mouth twitched. He was really in no mood to deal with this stuck-up right now. “Just out for some late night practice.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He did want to get some extra training in, only someplace where he had some damn peace for once. Who could have thought the countryside would be even more suffocating than a life under his father’s roof.

Turning around before Berkan opened his mouth in protest Gideon hurriedly added,“Just finished the cleaning ‘n shit. Go look for yourself if you want.” before he skidded down the large staircase leading down from the academy campus.

Even if Berkan decided to check up on his task Gideon would be already gone by the time the other boy realized he hadn’t done shit.

____

Sahar rubbed slow circles over Asmodea’s head, right between her antennas. It was one of her favorite spots, right after the underside of her foot, when Sahar would gently wipe it clean with a fluffy towel whenever she’d managed to get something unpleasantly stuck to her body. Like the godforsaken acidic tree sap she had blindly glid through on their first forest excursion.

Asmodea carefully extended one eye, gently poking Sahar’s other hand while she began to softly nibble his leg. The raspy sandpaper-like sensation made him chuckle and his fingers began to tap over the warm earth.

“Hey, hey hey. I’m fine. Don’t, don’t worry.”

Another enthusiastic nibble made him smile, bright and toothy for the first time on a day unpredictable like a summer monsoon.

Sahar was just about to coax Asmodea from his lap and get some strawberry, when a gut wrenching shriek pierced the evening air.

Something rustled through the bushes.

He shouldered Asmodea and sprung to his feet in one fluid motion, eyes fixed on the timberline and heart stuck in his throat.

Don’t tell me?! Did something break through the border after all?

His pulse hammered in his ears as Sahar listened to the sound of snapping twigs, to the rapid ‘thud thud thud’ coming closer with every second ticking by. His thoughts raced. Would he be fast enough to hurl Asmodea over the root? To jump after? His eyes snapped to the axe. Could he run at all?

The bushes parted.

Sahar was about to throw his friend over the root, risking an injury to her precious shell, when he saw who had screamed. His body froze dead in its tracks and Asmodea fummed in paniked protest.

Mara had burst out of the thick bushes, covered in scratches, her little face blotchy and tear crusted. The yellow hairband that had been seemingly fused to her head was nowhere to be found and the glittering drawings on her prosthetic leg were smeared over with dirt. Sahar was kneeling by her side in an instant.

“Hey hey hey hey what- what happened? Mara?”

Wiping at tears rolling in endless rivers down flushed chubby cheeks, Sahar scanned her shivering disheveled form for injuries that, to his immense relief, didn’t seem to exist.

“Hey hey hey, It’s fine. It’s fine now. I- I’m here. Every- everything’s fine, fine now.”

“Nonononono.” Her tiny hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her forehead against his collarbone, shaking and rubbing her head into Sahars skin.

Her fluffy curls brushed his chin.

“Monster. A monster. Monster at the glowy clea- clealing!”

“Glowy- what what what do, what do you mean?”

His hands tapped a rapid-fire rhythm over her shaking shoulder blades as Sahar tried to make some sense of her choked-off babbling.

Sobbing, Mara dug the remnants of a squashed luminescent mushroom out of her pocket. The glowing blue pulp dripped down her fingers and painted sparkling droplets of night sky onto the muddy earth.

“Oh. Oh! The the The clearing! I know, I know, know now. That that that’s close. Were, were were you, were you- were- fuck.” Balling his hands into fist tight enough to leave crescent indentations in the soft flesh of his palm, Sahar forced a long breath in through his nose and out of his uncooperative mouth.

Slow now, sweetheart. Don’t get too worked up again.

“Were you and the others pick- pick picking- for the fest?”

Burying herself back against Sahar’s chest with a frantic nod Mara howled: “The others- the monster, the monster trapped them!”

A breakthrough. Fuck, fuck. Fuck! There must have been one.

She trembled as he held her at arm’s length, meeting dark panic hazy eyes with a determination he thought had died that fateful autumn night eight years ago.

“Listen Mara. I, I I go to the clearing and and and you run to to to the, run to the tea house. Every- everyone’s gonna be, be there warming up for for for for tomorrow.”

He hastily wiped her cheeks before hoisting her over the root. Sahar flashed her a wry smile, trying to look braver than he felt.

“Everything’s gon- gon- gonna be fine.”

Sahar willed his hands not to shake as he tore the Axe from the cutting stump and vanished into the woods.

#whump #whump writing #emotional whump #mutant whumpee #mutant whump #negative stimming #emotional overload #autistic mc close to meltdown #but his pet helps him calm down :3 #nothing better than snail snuggles #some flowers have teeth #sahar #gideon #charlotte #post apocalypse whump #post apocalypse story #post apocalypse

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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years

Text

To Be Continued - Part 7

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2198

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

It was as if you were writing a new novel. Instead of focusing on how Charli Evers would finally get with her battered beau, you were at the peak of experiencing all the emotions and excitement that came from a new romance. You were enjoying playing the main protagonist for the first time in your life as well.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked with a hint of amusement in his tone. You leaned in even closer, already entangled together on the couch after watching a movie, and lifted your index finger.

“Counting.”

“Counting what?”

“How many lashes I gave you,” you murmured, your gaze honing in on one eye. You let out a whistle when you finished. “I gave you so many! Why are you this perfect?”

“I don’t see myself as perfect at all. You sure made a point of that in my creation, too.”

“How? You’re handsome, protective, honest, playful, charming, sensitive, and did I mention handsome?”

Brian’s lips curled up some from your description. “I think you might have said it twice.”

“Because you truly are that good looking!” you surmised, and Brian chuckled.

“Is being handsome all that matters to you?”

“Well, no.” You blinked a couple of times whilst trying to come up with an answer that didn’t make you feel shallow. The truth was, you really did enjoy looking at him a whole lot.

Over the past two weeks, that was what you had done an awful lot of. No matter what mundane task Brian did, he looked exceptional doing it. His laugh was music to your ears, and his voice made your heart flutter constantly. Any time he smiled, you worried your knees would give way, and on the rare chance they actually did, the way he caught you so easily with his strong embrace had you swooning further.

You wondered if this was all a dream. Instead of Brian coming out of your laptop, and your novel, perhaps you had died from your illness. That would explain why everything lately had felt so heavenly at his side.

Either way, you didn’t want to wake up or move on to the next realm. This was where you wanted to remain forever.

Especially when he kissed you. Leaning in to break you out of your reverie, Brian’s luscious lips pecked yours twice, a chuckle vibrating out of him when you realised you had zoned out again. “You’re too adorable.”

“Hardly.”

“If you keep calling me handsome, I’m allowed to call you how I see you.”

You sighed heavily and attempted to pull away from the man. “I don’t want to be just adorable if you’re handsome, Brian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Charli Evers is beautiful! She’s stunning and successful and has a body that would make any male swoon over her. She’s a goddess, and I’m just adorable.”

“You’re really adorable when you’re jealous,” he mused and shook his head, reaching out to pull you back in close to him again. “Charli isn’t real like you are.”

“What if she comes to her senses and finds out that you’ve left that world. She could come here, and it would be no competition between us!”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be. Because I’d choose you over her every time.”

You scoffed loudly and pulled yourself away again, going over to the kitchen to get a drink of water to cool down. It was hard enough having insecurities as a person, and when you had lived alone, you barely thought of them, too busy up in worlds like Captivated to truly care. Your flaws, at points, made good fodder for some character traits, but you never wrote yourself fully into a world. You had come close in Destined, but even the main protagonist there was far more charming than you were to hook Park Jinyoung as she had.

Brian’s arms slipped around your waist, and he dropped his chin onto your shoulder. “It’s all about perception. You see Charli as superior to you. But she’s the type of woman you see in a magazine. Flawless, beautiful, and whilst you no doubt have made her relatable to your fans of the series as a person, as she does have a good soul, you are real. You aren’t sculpted to perfection. You aren’t going to star on the front cover of any Vogue or Marie Claire. Instead, you are starring as my leading lady.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or not,” you mumbled, turning around to face Brian. “Maybe I want to be on the front cover.”

“It’s not in your personality to stand out like that. You much prefer this lifestyle. Domestic and homely and comfortable.”

“So she’s sexy, and I’m homely,” you deducted, whilst Brian groaned loudly.

“Can’t we go back to the part where we were thinking of just us? I don’t like you comparing yourself to someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, lowering your gaze from his. Brian had a habit of making sure you were always looking at him, and he easily fished out your gaze again, smiling gently when he caught your eye. You sighed. “I guess whilst I made you to be the dream guy for me, and those who read my series, I never quite realised the impact you would have on my world if I actually had you.”

“If I have to make a point of telling you how much I appreciate and adore you daily, then so be it.”

“You shouldn’t have to though,” you pointed out, going around him and heading into your office. Brian followed you and leaned against the threshold as you sat down in your chair.

He nodded his head. “No, I suppose I shouldn’t. But isn’t that what makes a relationship work? I support you, and you support me. When one of us feels lower than the other, then it’s important to make sure they feel cherished and loved.”

“Loved?” you repeated, your eyes widening at his choice of words. Brian cleared his throat noisily, looking around your room as opposed to keeping eye contact. You smirked. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“Isn’t it time to write, Miss Writer?”

“Perhaps I just got some inspiration for my starting point of Eternity. I mean, in the story, Charli Evers is cherished and loved by Brian Kang, isn’t she?”

“Have your fun at my expense.”

“It’s all those good lines I breathed into you. No wonder you make the world swoon, Brian. You’re full of the perfect lines to make any girl weak at the knee,” you told him as you opened your document for the final piece in this story. Admittedly, it was blank and had remained that way for some time. You knew it was because you were too busy with Brian in person that you couldn’t possibly think about writing about him as well.

However, you had received notice from Lily earlier in the day about your next deadline, and so you had promised after one movie tonight, you would end your evening with starting the next novel.

Glancing over at Brian who was still in the doorway, you smiled, and he nodded. “As long as you know it’s your knees I want to make weak every time. Have a good session, my love.”

However, two days later, you were still staring at a blank page. It wasn’t without trying, of course. You wrote, only to erase the sentence immediately. You told yourself to just let the words flow out and not edit them until you were done. Except nothing but a trickle of nonsense made it onto the document each time and after every gruelling session, you found yourself exhausted, mentally, and from simply staring at a blank page.

In all your years of creative writing, you had never been as stumped as you were now. It made no sense! You were living and breathing your own romance in life. Surely, the amount of affection Brian poured over you would easily inspire you enough to write it out. And generally, when you stepped into your office to write, it came from feeling inspired and uplifted to write about a world where love conquered all.

As soon as you were in front of your laptop, however, words failed you.

You had tried everything, from changing your writing schedule to practising with unrelated scenes. That had you hopeful. Every time you wrote a drabble about something outside of this series, you were capable of penning an entire world. In fact, you had now written a series of short stories about random characters and scenarios with relative ease. The success you felt from doing these was short-lived as soon as you opened Eternity, however. Nothing formed, nothing came to mind.

Nothing.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to share Brian with Charli,” you wondered out loud, immediately shaking your head. Whilst the Brian you were falling for fast, was that of the same Brian Charli would risk her all for, inside your literary world, you felt no need to keep him to yourself. You wanted Charli and Brian’s story to wrap up with a neat bow after their final tribulations of proving their love would outshine the obstacles in their way. You were determined to gift your readers what you had planned all along for the star-crossed lovers. And you needed to send Charli off on her merry way with a confirmed end.

Whilst your story with Brian continued.

“Just write something, Y/N!” you instructed yourself to do, poising your fingers above the keys.

It was a struggle, but they began to move, and you hoped this time would be the official start of your novel.

“So, what do you think?” you asked cautiously, staring at Lily as she read over what you had sent her.

Your editor didn’t say a thing, and sometimes that was a good notion. You had rendered her speechless yet again.

However, you knew better than that. She wasn’t speechless, she was in disbelief. Lily finally looked at the web camera on the video call and blinked several times. Pulling off her glasses, she wiped at them before placing them back over her eyes. And then she screamed incoherently.

“Lily, I can explain.”

“You better, and fast,” your editor stated back, trying to recompose herself. “This isn’t your writing.”

“Well, it is,” you told her, attempting to smile. Her laser glare wiped it off your lips, and you groaned. “So I think I’m having a writer’s block.”

“But you don’t suffer from writer’s blocks, you overcome them before they get to that level. What have you been doing for the last month that this is all you can turn in for me to look over?!”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” you announced, rocking back and forth in your chair. “And it’s sort of been hard to write.”

“I don’t buy it. You love to write.”

“I mean, I have been writing,” you agreed, grinning sheepishly. “Just not on what I’m contracted to be doing.”

“Y/N!” she whined, and you sighed heavily. “How are you going to make up time if you don’t even have a first chapter formed?!”

“I don’t know exactly, but do you think delaying the third story, especially since my second one is only at the publisher’s now preparing to print, can happen? I’m sure we don’t need to bang this series out one after the other. The hype from the wait will make it only more worthwhile for the fans!”

“Not if you plan on producing this type of rubbish! There’s no life in this part you’ve sent me! It’s as if Brian’s soul was sucked clear of this world and only Charli remains.”

You choked on the drink you had reached for, and this alerted the man in the adjacent room, your hands waving him off inconspicuously before Lily saw him.

You didn’t know what your editor’s reaction would be to find out your writer’s block stemmed from you dating someone. And you certainly didn’t want to find out either.

“That’s it, I’m coming over!”

“Lily, that’s unnecessary. You don’t have to!”

“Oh, but I do. My star writer is fumbling around and not focusing enough on what she needs to be doing. Boot camp is on its way.”

“I could help her,” a new voice added to the conversation and you clamped your eyes shut as you heard the wind being knocked out of Lily entirely. Brian crouched down at your side and smiled at the camera. “Lily Morton, correct?”

“You know my name.”

“Of course. You’re an important figure in my life.”

“I… I am?!”

“I mean, you help Y/N with her stories a whole deal, so that’s a special role to have.”

“Y/N, who is this person? He looks far too familiar and yet I feel I haven’t quite met him in the flesh before.”

“It’s a--” Catching yourself from your stalemate sentence, you smiled. And for some reason, you felt compelled to introduce him properly to someone. Before you even realised it, the words fell from your mouth.

“You’ve kind of met him already, Lily. This is Brian Kang, the star of our series.”

_________________

Part 8

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bngtanah · 4 years

Text

Red Lips: Love Galore | JK (m)

summary: “Red Lips Always Lie.” Jungkook was the type of guy your parents always warned you about. Handsome, charming and not to be trusted.

pairing: Jungkook x Named!Reader genre: angst, smut words: 4.5k chapters: o1| o2| warning: fuccboi!jungkook, smut, black!reader, dirty talk, honestly its just pure filthy, over-stimulation, public sex, bathroom sex, barely a plot, like honestly just a thread of plot, angst, a/n: i am a fool. I accidentally deleted my blog so this is me re-uploading EVERYTHING.

Month Two: Love Galore Should've never gave you my number I did it with you Should've never let you hit it I split it with you I regret it

Despite the reassurance of her friends, Baby was not, in fact, loving the bar they had settled on occupying for the night. The live band was annoying her, the hordes of seemingly hipster fans they drew in for the night were less that amiable and apparently all of them were freakishly tall; judging by the amount of times she’d been elbowed in the back of her head without even a small apology. A complaint was ever present on the tip of her tongue from the moment they entered the building but she held back for the sole fact that her closest friend, the birthday girl, seemed to be enjoying herself.

That could just be due to the fact that June was a more content person than Baby. She was laid back, easygoing and even if she wasn’t having the best time, there was no way you’d be able to tell just by looking at her face, especially not now while she laughed loudly, all 32 of her pearly white teeth gleaming, at something someone’s date had said along with the rest of the group.

Baby sniffed, adjusting her top and bringing a bottle of beer to her mouth. She hadn’t really been paying attention to anything anyone was saying, her attention focused solely on watching her watch and counting the hours that had passed since Jungkook said he was on his way. For that past month and a half they had been seeing each other pretty regularly. ‘Seeing’ meaning that they spent the better part of every weekend locked up in her apartment or Jungkook’s taking turns making each other orgasm until exhaustion overtook them.

They’d watch movies, talk (mostly about Baby) and sometimes order takeout but the night always ended the same basic way; with Baby face down in a mattress, struggling to keep her back arched as Jungkook took her from behind with no mercy. Then once they were both satisfied he would leave, or she would go home and wait for the routine to begin again the following weekend. It was uncomplicated and exactly what Baby thought she needed. Though honestly, the lack of depth was beginning to eat away at her. As hard as Baby's wished she could be she knew she was a softy at heart who craved attention and concern, so having Jungkook actually show up with her tonight was kind of a big deal.

Her friends still hadn’t met him, despite the amount of time she spent talking about him. Whenever she invited him out with her, there was always something else that came up. He had to work late, or deal with a family emergency or sudden illness that rendered him incapable of leaving his apartment. The excuses upset Baby at the moment but he always seemed to find a way to remedy her anger by showing up at her apartment later in the night. All pressing excuses suddenly resolved for the remainder of the time it took for him to get himself off then, almost magically, the excuses popped up again whenever Baby made the rookie decision of asking if he was staying for the night or attempting to cuddle against him once they were both sated and out of breath.

Baby flinched and immediately reached for her cellphone when Jungkook’s text message came in, fighting to urge to roll her eyes at him asking her to meet him outside without actually SAYING ‘come outside’. She stood to her feet anyway and tried to hide the excitement in her voice when she announced to the table of her peers that she would “Be right back.”

“So when are we going to tell her to stop messing with this dude? Before or after she’s so dickmatized she lets him move in?” June, the birthday girl perked up once Baby was out of earshot.

“If we’re trying to prevent her being dickmatized, I think it’s too late,” Demi chimed in from across the table “We all know the signs and Baby is beyond help.”

“They've been together for, what? A month? No dick is that good” Lisa grumbled into drink.

“You'd be surprised” June countered, looking forlornly at the entrance of the bar “.... You'd be surprised… “

In Front.

“Jungkook!” Baby waved as she jogged a few feet down the block “I didn't think you'd make it-”

She never quite got to finish her sentence, the second Baby was within arms reach Jungkook's hands were all over. His burly arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. Before she had a chance to question his actions, soft red lips were on hers in the few seconds it took Baby to raise her head. Passionate and unyielding, his kiss engulfed Baby, giving her no choice but to relent and match his efforts. Her arms wrapped around his torso and held him close to her in a vice grip, she could feel him smile against her lips then smooth both his hands down her back until they were both gripping her ass and kneading the plump flesh there as if she were nothing more than a piece of clay.

In a sense she mostly was, each time he put his hands to work on her body Baby became like putty in his grasp. She felt his lips pull back from her own and almost found herself frowning at their absence until she felt him dip down and suction her neck in the exact spot that made her toes curl. Her fingernails pushed into his back and Baby's eyes flew open wide when she felt his right hand move from her ass to grabbing her upper thigh and then vanishing under the hem of her skirt to stroke her from behind.

Immediately Baby put her hands against his chest and pushed him backwards. Or, she attempted to. He was six feet of solid muscle compared to Baby's shorter, much less toned frame so all her push managed to do was make him stop attempting to push her thighs apart further.

"Um...so Hi?" Baby croaked out once she'd managed to move his hands.

"Hey Baby…I missed you" Jungkook replied and moved forward to kiss her again. Baby stopped him this time, pressing her finger against his lips and guided his head backwards.

"So, Maybe you're confused, but I didn't ask to come out with me so you could finger me outside the club!" Baby complained a hushed whisper and attempted to move away but Jungkook's grip on her remained steady.

"C'mon, no one is even paying attention to us" He whispered back and placed another kiss along her jaw. Baby looked to her left and then right and groaned softly when she noticed that he wasn't wrong. There was hardly anyone on the sidewalk and the doorman who kept guard over the entrance seemed to have conveniently disappeared.

"That's not the point," Baby retorted taking a step back when Jungkook's hold on her waist went slack "I want you to meet my friends, I wanted to have some fun with you outside of a bedroom for once."

Jungkook snickered and shrugged, allowing Baby to loop her arm around his bicep and pull him forward. It seemed like you were having fun already," he grinned and quirked an eyebrow upwards as he brought a glistening finger up to his mouth, humming with delight when he sealed his lips around the digit.

"You're digust- !" Baby exclaimed as she attempted to drag him forward, ignoring the jolt of electricity strike down her spine when he only laughed and smacked his palm harshly against her ass when she moved in front of him.

Baby could hardly contain the pleased grin that spread across her face as she led Jungkook back inside the building. She caught the attention of her friends when they were a few feet from their table, their eyes drifted from Baby to her arm linked with Jungkook then upwards to Jungkook then back down to Baby again.

"So Guys..." Baby practically gushed when they were seated again "This is Jungkook! Jungkook This Is Lisa, Demi, And June - She’s the birthday girl." Baby announced and pointed towards them respectively as she said each of their names. Her excitement was palpable and not nearly as reciprocated on either end. Jungkook was the first to offer a short "’Sup, Happy Birthday" His lips curling up into a playful smile that made Baby's friends grimace slightly. It was a smile they had all seen at one point in their lives and recognized all too well.

June finally broke the silence and extended her hand forward, encouraging the other two to follow her example. “Thanks. Its nice to finally meet the famous Jungkook, am I saying that right? Juunngkook?” June was slightly tipsy but not drunk enough to cause her words to slur and Baby cringed inside knowing that she was probably stressing his name purposefully. Though Jungkook seemed to take it in stride, chuckling softly at the unnecessary syllables added to his name.

“Yeah that’s close enough, Juuune” he replied with a sly smirk before smacking his palms against the surface of the table and tapping rhythmically. “Since it’s your birthday, how about a round of shots on me?” He didn’t wait for an answer before pushing back from his seat and made eye contact with Baby, jerking his head in the direction of the bar.

“I’m, uh gonna help him with the glasses” Baby said with a soft smile as she trailed behind him and eventually caught up. Once she reached the Jungkook was already seated with two large shot glasses in his hands.

“Baby! Do a shot with me,”

"This looks like more than just one" Baby noted with a grin but took the glass anyway.

"It's a double, I thought you wanted to have fun tonight?" Jungkook asked with a toothy grin before clinking their glasses together and counting backwards from 3. Baby immediately threw her head back on the count of one and puckered her entire face as the alcohol burned down her throat. It took a few seconds for her to open her eyes again and notice that Jungkook's glass was still completely full.

"Jungkook, what the hell!" She complained and playfully tapped his shoulder. "Why buy a shot if you're not going to drink it?"

"I'm going to…" He replied with an indecipherable smile "But I wanna do something first, move your hair outta the way."

"Baby raised an eyebrow at first but eventually did what she was asked, grabbing a large clump of her hair and moving it to the opposite side of her neck. It wasn't until she noticed him coaxing a wedge of lime between her lips that Baby fully understood what was happening. She scoffed a small laugh when Jungkook asked her to close her eyes but did it anyway and flinched slightly when the familiar feeling of his tongue against her neck hit her. He licked a stripe up the side of her neck then gingerly sprinkled a waterfall of salt over the slick area.

"You ready?" Jungkook asked in a seductive whisper and Baby felt his arms pull her closer so that she was slotted between his open legs.

"It's just a body shot Jungkook, why are you so dramatic?" Baby giggled, her eyes still shut. She blindly reached forward until she could feel his shoulders to rest her hands.

Tension bubbled up and compounded with every second that passed, Jungkook's free hand smoothly moved over her thighs then across her stomach until finally settling on her hips. Heat emanated off his skin making Baby feel oddly suffocated as she felt him move closer, his nose moving slowly up and down against her pulse exhaling warm breath over her throat before placing a few tentative licks on her skin. Then suddenly he pressed his tongue flat against the area of her neck that was covered with salt. His lips attached to the sliver of skin just underneath her earlobe, he suckled gently wrapped his arm completely around Baby's hips to press their lower bodies flush against each other.

Baby whimpered as she felt the capillaries under her skin burst when he detached his lips. In one fluid motion Jungkook swallowed the clear liquid and immediately moved forward to retrieve the lime from Baby's lips. He wrapped his lips around the green fruit slowly, applying pressure and slurping the small amount of juice that tempted to fall from her lips. Their lips barely touched and Baby found herself gripping Jungkook's shoulders tighter the more he sucked and brushed his lips against her own.

Soon the lime was forgotten, snatched from Baby's mouth and tossed into the empty shot glass beside them. Jungkook attacked Baby's lips and she tried not to smile too much as she found herself being pulled closer to Jungkook but she soon gave up that fight as his fingers trailed over her skin. Their lips melded together and Baby felt something stir in her that she was sure she’d never felt before. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him even closer until she found herself being lifted up slightly and turned so her back was pressed against the edge of the bar. It was slightly uncomfortable but Baby didn’t really seem to mind, if the way she grinned for a few seconds and returned to kissing Jungkook was any evidence.

Baby had never really been an extroverted person, she wasn't shy by any means but she preferred to keep to herself on most occasions. So doing something like this? Making out with someone right up against a bar surrounded by other people was not in her wheelhouse. She didn't know what it was but there was just something about Jungkook that made her want to take risks. Do things she never imagined she would do. Like ask him to press her against the nearest wall and take her right then. Which is something she was seriously considering.

Her mind cleared of the hazy fog once she felt Jungkook's hands maneuvering over her body then holding on to her ass just the way they were outside on the sidewalk. She could tell what he wanted so desperately to feel his hands on, well one of the areas. A possessive growl vibrated against her throat and shook her directly to her core making Baby moan gently in response arch her body more fully against Jungkook's teasing hands. “Touch me” she murmured against him and then kissed him again.

Jungkook smiled against her lips and immediately responded by standing up and gently guiding Baby backwards until she felt her back hit a wall. They were somewhat secluded, in a corner just off from the bar where there wasn't much foot traffic. Jungkook wasted no time in obliging Baby's request by heisting her left leg high up on his waist and running his hand along the underside of her thigh. His hips instinctively flexed forward and they both groaned simultaneously as the bulge in his jeans pressed against Baby's core. Jungkook exhaled a shuddering breath against her cheek and Baby fought back the urge to reach for the zip of his jeans.

Her ankle hooked around his leg instead, to keep it in place while his hand massaged it's way up the inside of her thighs. Baby's breath caught in her throat when she felt his hand tease the sensitive nub between her legs and she barely contained the moan that tickled the back of her throat as his lips moved against the skin of her neck.

Her leg wrapped tightly around his waist once she felt the fabric of her thin underwear being pushed out of the way and Baby groaned against his lips. She was slightly worried about drawing attention to them but then his ring finger slid past her damp entrance and Baby moaned with urgency. She clawed at a few inches of hair at the back of his neck, roughly tugging and pulling him forward until he was snugly fitted into the space of her neck and clavicle. Wet kisses trailed over her flushed skin and Baby pressed both of her palms against the wall for a moment just to steady her stance when a second then third finger entered her and the pad of his thumb ground down harshly against her clit.

A gentle whimper tumbled from her lips at his tentative strokes which were then followed by a satisfied groan once his fingers began moving in earnest inside her. Her hips shot forward and took on a life of their own, gingerly rocking themselves up, down and in tight circles against his fingers. Baby was glad for the fact that she didn’t have to subtly direct him like she usually did with men who had little to no idea what they were doing. He knew exactly where and how to suck on her skin, how much pressure to apply, when to toy with her clit and when to assail her walls with his fingers. He played her like an instrument and despite her best efforts to last any longer, Baby knew it was futile. She was going to come. Hard. She gripped his hair tighter and her hips started to pump in time with his strokes of their own accord.

“SHIT, Jungkook” she whispered. “Oh, God, don’t stop. Please don’t stop." She continued to beg him while his fingers played with her velvet soft walls, his thumb applied more pressure to her clit, and that was the final straw. Baby's eyes slammed shut, her back arched off the pulsating walls of the club, and she wrapped her leg around his thigh even tighter. She shouted his name, not caring if anyone around them heard her falling to pieces at Jungkook's hands. She slowly released her stranglehold on Jungkook and her head rested against the concrete wall behind her, breathing heavily.

A ragged breath tore away from Jungkook's throat, his hand slamming forcefully against the wall next to Baby's head. He pressed his forehead against Baby's and guided her hips forward again, his erection firm and strained as he pressed himself into Baby once more. "God, I wanna fuck you so bad right now," He muttered on her lips, capturing them in another sloppy kiss. His hands tightening their grasp on her waist line "I need to be deep inside you, Baby please" Jungkook pleaded and Baby didn't have it in her heart to ignore his tortured gasps and the pained expression on his face. Her hands firmly clutched the sides of his neck and her thighs trembled when he rolled in his hips forward in a languid and tortuously slow stroke and freely moaned into her mouth.

"Bathroom, 10 minutes."

It took everything in Baby to back away and shuffle out of Jungkook's arms. The shot she took earlier was finally beginning to hit her bloodstream, making her grasp the edge of the bar to steady herself for a moment. Her legs were still far from stable and with every step Baby felt like her knees would buckle. After taking a few seconds to recoup she managed to get a round of shots ordered for her table, using Jungkook's tab and allowing one of the bartenders to deliver the tray along with a birthday message. She thought about going back to her friends, at the very least letting them know that she probably wasn't going to be coming back that night. As she took a step towards her table, Baby's phone buzzed in her back pocket; it was a photo of Jungkook shirtless, his jeans unzipped just enough to free his erection from its denim prison. His hand wrapped firmly around the base of his length and Baby groaned when she read the message attached: 'Please'.

She moved at a breakneck towards the bathroom and the second they were both behind closed doors Jungkook rested his hands on her waist pulled her lips to his and led her back further into the bathroom, deepening the kiss as they took each step. She wanted—needed— him to be inside her so badly that it actually hurt. Her body ached for him in ways that made Baby feel crazed. Once they finally made it against the furthest wall, he didn’t waste any time turning her around so Baby’s back was facing him. His hands ran up and down her bare legs and yanked her damp panties down her smooth legs before he slapped her ass hard, the smacking noise of his action bouncing off the bathroom walls. He stuck her ass out further to him and pushed her skirt up her waist as he guided his cock to her slick entrance, making Baby shiver as his engorged head pushed through her narrow lips, her breath caught in her throat as his cock sunk fully inside of her.

“Jesus, why do you have such a nice pussy?” He breathed against her shoulder. He took a slow yet shaky breath, pulling his cock out from her cunt slowly one last time. He planted his feet firmly, digging his fingertips into her golden brown skin. He then began to pound his stiff length hard into her cunt, showing no mercy as usual. “You’re so fucking tight, Baby. So fucking good.” Jungkook groaned, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling.

His girth filled her completely, almost to the point of not fitting. “Uhh!” She cried out, her palms pressing tightly against the tiled walls of the bathroom, slowly winding her hips backwards with his as he began to thrust in and out. She chuckled breathlessly when his breath fanned over her shoulder “You like this tight pussy?” She moaned and whipped her head around to smirk at him, her deep brown tresses sweeping off her shoulder as she did.

“I fucking love this tight pussy,” Jungkook pressed his lips against her ear, gnawing at her earlobe tenderly. "I want to live in your walls Baby" He groaned vigorously driving his hips against her, continuing his hot assault on her soaked sex. Every stroke made her walls tense, greedily trying to keep his slick pole nestled deep inside of her. Baby was sure that she’d have trouble walking properly after this encounter, but she’d live. “Oh God…” She moaned, arching her back to take his every thrust “Such a fucking fat cock…filling me up so good,” She whined, resting one of her hands on top of his as he continued to thrust into her.

Baby felt a small bubble of laughter almost slip out of his mouth when she whined about his cock. He licked his bottom lip, then grinned. He seized both of her hands and held them behind her back. “This fucking fat cock happens to enjoy filling you up so good, babygirl.” He kissed behind her ear. He clasped her hands together behind her with one hand as the other one slid down between her legs, pressing his fingers down on her swollen clit. His fingers rubbed quickly over the slippery nub, pounding his cock faster into her hot slit. "Cum when I tell you to" Jungkook growled against her skin.

Each dirty word he spoke made her hotter and wetter. She panted hard, trying to catch her breath between his forceful thrusts. As much as she second guessed her relationship with Jungkook , Baby could never deny that anyone else had made her this wet and turned on in a very long time. She wanted to deny it, but there was something about him…in some weird way he was becoming intoxicating to her. His voice, his features, his incredible ability to fuck her senseless…she was almost disappointed that they were out instead of in one of their homes knowing that neither of them could go as wild as they wanted to. He was a perfect fit inside her. The soft sucking noises of his length pulling in and out of her lips was the sexiest thing she ever heard…next to his voice.

As his hand travelled began fiercely rubbing her exposed clit Baby moaned loudly. She knew she wouldn't last much longer like this. Her eyelids slammed shut and Baby felt her knees begin to buckle beneath her as her walls began to constrict around him, pulsing. A simple instruction growled from above her broke her resolve to hold out any longer. “Cum for me, Baby” Jungkook demanded and Baby felt herself fly off the edge. As the heated seconds passed, the pulsing intensified until a fantastic sensation erupted inside of her. “Fuck!” She cried out, her head dropping back and her chestnut colored hair splaying over her shoulders as her walls spasmed hard, bathing Jungkook's probing length in a warm flood of her essence.

He latched his mouth to the gap of her neck and shoulder, sinking his teeth down into her overheated flesh, welcoming the rush of her sweet juices when she came. Despite her throbbing walls growing tight around his shaft, he kept on his fast-moving pace, bucking furiously between her legs. Baby flexed against his arms, trying desperately to free herself from the over-stimulation but it was futile. She groaned with a hoarse scream when she felt her walls spasm again and while she shook vigorously against his body Jungkook knew he was done for. “Shit!” He growled, stilling inside of the brown-skinned beauty. He gripped hard onto her hips, his cock trembling inside of her dripping cunt, spilling his release inside of her. Her pulsating walls still tightened around him, milking every last drop of his seed from his swollen tip, as a large satisfied smile emerged on his face. “Do you… do you wanna come back to my place tonight?” He asked, pulling back until he was no longer inside her. Choosing instead to encircle his arms around her waist. He buried his face in her neck and closed his eyes. Baby leaned back and rested her arms on top of his, using him for leverage as the bones in her legs felt like jelly.

"It's one in the morning Jungkook, I'm not taking a taxi all the way back to Harlem a couple of hours later" Baby sighed, reaching her arms backward to wrap her arms around his neck and Jungkook smirked, kissing the curve of her shoulder. He began a trail of soft kisses up from her shoulder to behind her ear.

"Then stay over, you're off tomorrow right?"

It was stupid; she knew it was but Baby couldn't stop herself from feeling elated at his very basic offer. It was the very first time he'd ever shown any interest in being with after they were done having sex. Obviously his offer was simply a prelude to them doing the same thing at his apartment once again but still.

It was a start.

Back at the table of friends June looked over to the other two girls and sighed. “She's not coming back is she?”

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x woc #bngtanah #red lips #☆

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