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thegayhimbo · 10 days

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Ranking The Stranger Things Tie-Ins:

Now that I've finished the reviews (for the time being), I wanted to do a ranking of all the tie-in comics, graphic novels, and books. Originally, I was just going to do a Top 5 Best and Worst List, but I figured it would be more fun to make a complete list of all the tie-ins while also giving my brief thoughts on each one (especially for those who don't want to read my lengthy reviews). Please note this is all in good fun and just my personal opinion, which can be subjected to change.

Also, this list will NOT include any of the show's episodes, video games, tabletop games, children's tie-in books, the Choose Your Own Adventure book, the Stranger Things Experience, or the stage play The First Shadow.

With that out of the way, let's begin in order from Worst to Best:

#26: Stranger Things Summer Special (See Review Here)

I never cared for Powell and Callahan as characters. They barely have anything to do with the show's main arc, they're NOT funny, and the "bumbling cop" trope is something I've grown tired of in recent years.

The premise of this short, where both of them are conveniently present at key events during season 3 in their lousy pursuit of being "good cops," all the while having constant near-misses with the Upside Down, the Flayed, and the Meat Flayer, is a repetitive joke that quickly grows old. That's not even getting into the huge continuity errors plaguing the short and creating a bunch of plot-holes. Completely unnecessary. Hard pass.

#25: Stranger Things The Bully (See Review Here)

This only ranks slightly higher than Summer Special because I like the artwork better, and it doesn't mess up the show's continuity like the previous comic did. However, that's all this really has going for it.

For whatever reason, they decided to make an entire graphic novel focusing on Troy and James (the bullies from season 1), and all I could think about while reading it is "This is a huge waste of time." I already didn't like Troy to begin with, this comic does NOTHING to improve my opinion of him, and considering that neither James nor Troy have appeared on the show since (and probably aren't coming back for season 5), I don't see what the point of this story was. This paragraph from my review sums it up best:

#24: Stranger Things x TMNT Crossover (See Review Here)

I'm sure there are fans who enjoyed this bizarre trip while embracing its absurdness and surrealism, but I am not one of them. I like TMNT and I like Stranger Things, but I draw the line at saying both properties exist in the same universe. That's not even getting into the haphazard attempts by the writers to make this comic canon with the show. Knowing the Duffer Brothers, that's likely not going to happen.

#23: Stranger Things Tales From Hawkins (See Review Here)

The idea of doing an anthology comic focusing on Hawkins residents was intriguing, but the end result was disappointing. They should have broadened their horizons regarding which characters to focus on, and not just set the stories exclusively in the first 2 seasons.

Murray's story (Issue #2) and the Pumpkin Patch Rivalry (Issue #4) are arguably the best ones. The rest are either forgettable or derivative.

#22: Stranger Things Six (See Review Here)

My first venture into Stranger Things comics. I've come a long way since then! :)

I remember looking forward to this particular comic to learn more about Hawkins Lab, Dr. Brenner, Project MKUltra, and the special kids............only to feel underwhelmed when I actually read it. I wanted to like Francine/Six, but I didn't find her interesting or compelling as a character, and the attempts to include other aspects of the show's lore (i.e. The Upside Down, Terry Ives, El and Kali, etc) felt shoehorned. Combined with the direction season 4 went, and it's a safe bet to say this comic is NOT canon (if it ever was).

#21: Stranger Things Suspicious Minds (See Review Here)

Suspicious Minds ranks slightly higher that Six for doing a better job fleshing out the experiments that were taking place at Hawkins Lab, as well as giving more details about Kali, Terry Ives, the test subjects, and El's biological father Andrew. It helps that Brenner is a threatening presence in this book, and that the narrative excels in maintaining suspense.

However, similar to Six, the events of season 4 render most of this book non-canon. That's not even getting into a major continuity error regarding El's date of birth that sticks out like a sore thumb.

Suspicious Minds serves as a cautionary reminder that if you're a creator and you've planned out a major twist for your show, then you either need to have a direct hands-on approach to how tie-ins are written and approved, or you need to be willing to share that twist with those you've hired to write tie-ins for the universe you're managing.

In any case, it is PAINFULLY CLEAR the Duffer Brothers didn't share information about Henry/One/Vecna with Gwenda Bond when she worte this book (or Paul Dichter for that matter when he helped oversee its development), and boy does it show in the final product. 😖

#20: Stranger Things Kamchatka (See Review Here)

Another example of a comic where the premise sounds intriguing, but they squander it on characters who aren't going to play a role on the show while also giving very little (and in some cases, contradictory) information about the show's lore.

While I liked the darker tone, the Cold War setting, and the spy thriller aspects, the characters didn't do much to impress me, and I was also frustrated by the lack of canon characters (Hopper, Dmitiri, Yuri, etc) who could have been in this comic and weren't. It's not bad, but it is mediocre when it didn't need to be.

#19: Stranger Things Into The Fire (See Review Here)

A sequel that improves on its predecessor (Stranger Things Six). While the comic likely isn't canon for the same reasons Six isn't, I appreciated the personal stakes this time around, I loved the creepy gothic aesthetic they did with Jamie/Nine's hallucinations, and it was nice to see Kali utilized in this story in a meaningful way. Here's hoping the Duffer Brothers wise up and bring Kali back for season 5 because she deserves so much better!

#18: Stranger Things Creature Feature (See Review Here)

One aspect of Season 4 that was disappointing was how little we got to see of the family dynamic with El and the Byers once they moved. It's hinted at, but not explored deeply. Creature Feature dives a little more into that, as well as El's struggles with PTSD, and gives a nice heartwarming scene between El, Jonathan, and Will towards the end that makes the short stand out.

However, the one-shot comic is sadly brief, and it may leave people frustrated about why they didn't go for a longer comic/graphic novel about El and the Byers adjusting to life in Lenora. I would've been interested in seeing that!

#17: Stranger Things The Game Master (See Review Here)

A one-shot comic where we get to see Steve and Nancy back together after the events of season 1 while also getting a surprisingly sweet interaction between Steve and Mike that isn't them griping with one another. I don't care much for Steve and Nancy's relationship, but I did like their attempts to help Mike feel better after El's apparent death. That was enough to elevate this short.

#16: Stranger Things Erica's Quest (See Review Here)

Not a fan of the artwork, but I was happy to witness the Scoop's Troop back together again. I also love how this short confirms Steve has played D&D before, which gives context to that scene in S4 when Dustin calls Steve asking him to be a substitute player in Eddie's D&D campaign.

#15: Stranger Things The Voyage (See Review Here)

Major improvement on Stranger Things Kamchatka. It's highly doubtful the show will include any mention of this comic (though if the Duffer Brothers decide to bring back the Russian arc for S5, I hope they incorporate Dr. Karine as the main antagonist), but the story is scary, suspenseful, and has the kind of gruesomeness you'd expect from an R-Rated horror film.

#14: Stranger Things Darkness On The Edge Of Town (See Reviews Here)

Having grown up reading a lot of murder mysteries, I have a soft spot for the genre. Hearing that Hopper's backstory involved him tracking down a deranged serial killer in New York City back in the 70s while also dealing with a dangerous cult was enough to get me on board with this book.

This novel isn't perfect, but it makes up for its shortcomings in creative ways. Hopper's backstory with the NYPD is fascinating, the story's focus on issues related to poverty, crime, mental health, law enforcement, and societal woes works well (even if they drop the ball towards the end), Hopper's interactions with El in the present are a highlight, and the narrative is effective in keeping the reader invested.

#13: Stranger Things Erica The Great (See Review Here)

A light-hearted graphic novel that bridges Erica's arc between seasons 3 and 4 while expanding on her growth as a character and development as a D&D play. It was cool seeing Erica's friends get their day in the limelight (one of whom might be making an appearance in S5), and the story has enough funny moments to keep the reader entertained.

#12: Stranger Things Flight Of Icarus (See Review Here)

I know fan reaction towards this book was cold when it was first announced, and I'll admit parts of it were hard to read given we all know how Eddie's story ends. I'm not a fan of media that teases false hope to the audience, only to cruelly yank it away.

That being said, I will go to bat for this book: It's well-written, and does a good job expanding on Eddie's character and his relationships with others (Wayne, Al Munson, Jason, etc). I also appreciate the book's themes regarding "forced conformity," and its scathing criticisms towards individuals and institutions (school teachers, law enforcement, students, residents, etc) who scapegoat and punish people like Eddie for existing while allowing (or in some cases, enabling) truly vile people to get away with being vicious and cruel towards "acceptable targets."

Considering how certain individuals on Tumblr and varying social media platforms have been treating others for the past few months, this book couldn't have come during a more relevant time.

#11: Stranger Things Halloween Special (See Review Here)

A delightful Halloween comic taking place before season 1 which centers around the Party telling an urban legend about the Child Eater of Hawkins, which coincidentally has eerie parallels to Vecna. Creepy artwork, an unsettling atmosphere, and a fun twist at the end! :)

#10: Stranger Things Hawkins Horrors (See Review Here)

Same deal as the Halloween Special, except it takes place between Seasons 3 and 4, and features multiple horror stories told by Steve, Robin, Nancy, Max, Lucas, Erica, Dustin, and Mike while they're all trapped in the Video Store during a power outage. The stories are scary and reminiscent of horror anthologies like Tales from the Crypt and Goosebumps, and some of them even cheekily foreshadow certain events that occur in season 4.

#9: Stranger Things Runaway Max (See Reviews Here)

Like Flight of Icarus, this book is hard to read, albeit for a different reason: I don't enjoy stories with characters trapped in abusive situations, and this book does not pull its punches in depicting the utter hell Max suffered through living with both Neil and Billy.

That being said, I grew to have a new appreciation for Max's character because of this book, and I liked seeing her backstory, her perspective on the events of season 2, and her thoughts about the characters she interacts with. I loved seeing her relationship with Lucas develop, I liked her brief interactions with Steve, and there was a satisfying payoff in her standing up to Billy and finally regaining some control over her life. If you love Max's character, this book is for you!

#8: Stranger Things Winter Special (See Review Here)

The closest Stranger Things will ever have for a Christmas Special (not counting the endings of the first two season finales). So many little details (i.e. the way the Party explains different Christmas stories to El and how she visualizes them, the revelation about what happened to the demodog in Joyce's fridge, etc) that make this an enjoyable read.

#7: Stranger Things Lucas On The Line (See Review Here)

One thing I will say for the tie-ins is that I appreciate how they expand the perspectives of characters from the show. Such is the case with Lucas on the Line. It takes place between seasons 3 and 4, and explores Lucas's attempts to come to terms with his trauma, the growing rift between himself and Max, his attempts to balance his strained relationships with his friends and his desire to play basketball and break out of the "nerd" stereotype, and it gives a very brutal but effective portrait of what it's like for Lucas to be one of the few black kids in Hawkins constantly surrounded by people who are either outwardly racist or project their biases and prejudices in truly insidious ways.

There are two reasons I'm not ranking this novel as highly even though it's a fan-favorite: 1.) There are continuity errors that took me out of certain moments while reading it, and 2.) The third act (which is when S4 begins) does a clumsy job tying in with the rest of the book and its themes. I really wish the book had continued with Lucas's story up to the end of S4 instead of stopping halfway through.

#6: Stranger Things The Other Side (See Review Here)

I always wanted to know what was going on with Will in season 1 when he was taken to the Upside Down. This comic thankfully elaborates on that and doesn't disappoint. Will's journey to survive is both intense and terrifying, and the way the comic seamlessly connects itself with the events of season 1 is to be applauded.

I have no clue what the Duffer Brothers plan to reveal in season 5 about the Upside Down and why time froze in 1983 when Will was taken, but considering they talked with the writers and artists for this comic and gave their stamp of approval, I'm hopeful the events of The Other Side won't be retconned.

#5: Stranger Things Science Camp (See Review Here)

Who knew that when Dustin went to Science Camp, he walked right into a Friday the 13th movie? 😂

Don't want to spoil too much about this one, but I had a blast reading it. Dustin's perspective is always entertaining, the comic works as a brilliant introduction for Suzie, and the mystery plaguing the camp is genuinely interesting and has a good twist. High recommendation.

#4: Stranger Things Zombie Boys (See Review Here)

I'm still bitter that the character of Joey Kim never made an appearance on the show despite the camaraderie he had with the Party, as well as how he gave the boys some catharsis from all the shit they were put through in season 1.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the premise of the Party making a zombie movie, and I appreciated how it handled the characters' trauma without being patronizing. The artwork was also impressive and beautiful to look at. Here's hoping we get more comics and graphic novels like this in the future!

#3: Stranger Things Tomb Of Ybwen (See Review Here)

At its core, the comic manages to explore an aspect that wasn't given much coverage on the show: Will's reaction to Bob's death and his attempts to come to terms with it. All of which culminates in a quest Will undertakes when he finds a map from Bob that (allegedly) leads to an ancient Viking treasure buried in Hawkins.

I don't want to give too much away in terms of spoilers, but the story is both emotional, sad, and heartwarming, and it does an excellent job reinforcing the friendship between all 4 boys while also demonstrating the impact Bob had on Will's life.

#2: Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons (See Review Here)

Speaking as someone who's occasionally crafted various fantasy scenarios in my head to cope with the stresses of life, this comic was deeply relatable. The show never shied away from emphasizing the importance of D&D to these characters, and this comic expands on that by illustrating why they became interested in D&D in the first place, how they've used D&D to cope with living in Hawkins, how the events of the first 3 seasons factor into how they play D&D, and how the game evolved with them as they continued to get older. It's like the piece of media from your childhood that stays with you as an adult. Arguably the best comic in the series (so far).

#1: Stranger Things Rebel Robin (See Reviews Here)

My favorite book and tie-in of the series. Speaking as someone who's gay, this story spoke to me on a personal level, and there were a lot of parallels I was drawing between Robin's experiences in high school and my own: The fear of being outed and ostracized. The desire to break free and explore the world. Recognizing the injustices that exist in society and wishing you could do something about them. Getting a nasty dose of reality that people you thought you could trust aren't reliable, and may even be more awful than you anticipated. Been there, done that, still dealing with some aspects of it.

It's funny because even if you take out the plot elements relating to the Upside Down, you still get a great coming-of-age story, and one that speaks to many people, LGBT+ or otherwise.

That concludes the ranking and reviews for right now! Thank you again for those who've been reading them! :)

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ayliamc · 7 months

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Italia

Day 4 - the Leonardo Era: Milano Edition

Steps walked: 19,011

Flights climbed: 13

Vehicles ridden: 3

Points of interest visited: 4

Leonardos spotted: the last supper, pages from the codex antlanticus, the portrait of a musician (but let’s be real, is that one truly a Leonardo?)

At three in the morning, we woke up to pack up and take a cab to the Napoli train station an hour drive away. Turns out we totally could have gone an hour later cuz we sat around the train station for quite a while but we didn’t have a super clear idea of how long things would take when plans were booked. Fortunately also Dan noticed that the driver tried to drop us off at the Napoli airport even though we had correctly listed the train station as our destination. So one crisis averted.

It’s a four hour train ride from Napoli to Milano and I had hoped to read “the Fragile Threads of Power”, a new book in my favorite series by my favorite author. I’ve been intentionally trying to read as slowly as possible to draw it out because it’s so rare to read a new book and know you love it before you even start. (It’s not disappointing so far. I’m delighting in every word.) But I could not keep my eyes open on the train. It was that strange feeling of a total energy drain where your eyelids close even though your brain is awake and wants to do things. (Hint: this is foreshadowing of the looming crisis that I had not yet had tea.) The train ride was made worse when someone got on the train next to me in Roma so I was now sitting by a stranger. Discomfort, I know thy name.

I made the mistake of not getting myself a tea on the train and was becoming increasingly grumpier. But I never panicked!

The Milano train station was an hour walk from our hotel so we took an Uber and were very lucky that they let us check in a few hours early so we could unload our bags in our room.

Gratefully lighter, we walked to the Bibliotecca Ambrosiana (and got an overpriced tea on the way! I try to refrain from buying tea as much as possible because they’re charging you for a 30¢ tea bag… but desperate times. And I did feel much better as a result.) ‘Twas a 25 minute walk and along the way we came across this beauty. (Look closely.)

The Bibliotecca was a relatively new discovery by me thanks to a recent article in the Washington Post. I had never heard of it. And as it turns out, neither have most people. But they hold the largest collection of pages from Leonardo’s Codex Antlanticus. We walked right in (after I chugged my tea of course because I couldn’t bring it in with me) and they have a pretty impressive collection of Italian renaissance paintings, displayed under spotlights in dark rooms.

Then - gasp! - a room dedicated to Raphael’s cartoon of his big philosopher painting-I-can’t-remember-what-it’s-called. This caught us completely by surprise and was staggering in its size and detail. Absolutely magnificent. Dan had to drag me away.

The Leonardos were all displayed at the end of the slightly confusingly laid out museum, but they had several copies produced by some of his students including Salai! Or as I like to call him, “the Little Shit.” It sounds harsh but Salai was the nickname Leonardo gave him which means “Little Devil.” Salai was not much of an artist, though commonly known as an apprentice of the master to justify his having lived with and off of Leonardo for so long. In reality, they were lovers. But Salai did produce copies of Leonardo’s works during his tenure in the workshop. So we saw Salai’s Salvatore Mundi and St John (which I thought was particularly funny since Salai is believed to be the model Leonardo used for his true St John). Also on display was the Portrait of a Musician, which I — as a non-scholar — believe Leonardo may have had a hand in but I don’t think it’s a true Leonardo composition. Still cool. Then the pages from the codex and the original binding of the codex the first time it was assembled from all of Leonardo’s notes.

We also got to spy on some scholars hard at work studying stuff. I got weirdly excited by that. To which Dan replied, “Nerds.”

They also have a crypt on display which is super old or something and Leonardo visited it before. I dunno. Anyway it was very well preserved and Leonardo had drawn maps of it and called it “the true heart of Milan” as it’s in the city’s center.

Dan grabbed a wrap on the way back to the hotel and I ate my leftovers from Sorrento before we crossed the street from our hotel to the Last Supper. Not an exaggeration. We could literally see the church from our hotel. Our commute to the Last Supper was legitimately just crossing the street.

They’re very well organized to give us the best possible experience to see the painting. A small group is allowed in with a tour guide for fifteen minutes to see the work.

I cannot possibly convey how unprepared I was to see it. I thought I was ready. I knew it was big. But I could not have imagined how big. It’s painted above a door, so my scale was all based on that. But the door is huge! What had once been a regular sized door had been expanded by the idiot priests who used the room as a dining hall. They literally destroyed part of the painting to give themselves a bigger door. So in pictures it makes it seem like a smaller painting. But it is massive. And I also expected it to be in much worse condition but the restoration is quite impressive.

People were standing respectfully far back despite a barrier that prevents viewers from getting too close but I kept inching closer and closer because I wanted to see as much as I could, knowing I would never be back here. This is a big bucket list item and it’s very likely one-and-done. We may never come back to Milano.

Anyway. It was awesome. Next door to our hotel was something labeling itself as Da Vinci’s vineyard. Apparently a vineyard that was gifted to Leonardo. We tried to visit it but they closed on Saturday (four days prior!) due to new ownership and didn’t know when they would open again to the public.

We wandered back in the direction of the Bibliotecca to see the Duomo. I kept saying “but I thought this was in Florence!” And of course there is one in Florence because “duomo” is just the Italian word for “cathedral”, and the one in Florence is the one Michelangelo built the David for, so naturally that’s the one I knew more about. But there were tons of statues on this duomo, too, so it confused me for a hot minute. Incredible structure.

Super randomly, one of Dan’s coworkers also happened to be in Milano so we met up with them to say hi. They wanted to go to a very fancy pizzeria for dinner. I’m not gonna lie, I’m already sick of Italian food. When there’s no vegan cheese, I’m just eating marinara pizzas and pasta with olive oil. And like, that’s enough of that, you feel me? We were also pretty tired after such an early start to the day so we grabbed some poke on the way back to our hotel room (it weirdly hit the spot) and found a place that had vegan ice cream which we happily slurped on the way.

Our path had us pass by the Castello Sforzesco, the castle of the Duke of Milan, Ludovico Sforza. He was a major patron of Leonardo and I think Leonardo even lived in the castle for a period during Ludovico’s patronship. He was the one who commissioned the Last Supper. I knew his name from Leonardo’s history and our tour guide at the Last Supper mentioned him. When I talked to Dan about Ludovico afterward it was as though Dan had never heard the name. This became a recurring theme and still to this day Dan knows him only as the Duke of Milan. If you say “Ludovico Sforza” to Dan I swear you will see the words wash over him like he has been cursed to never remember the name. The castle was cool. I decided Leonardo lived there.

I will forever regret not building time into our visit to see the interior.

A few random observations:

* Bidets in every hotel room, but this one did not have a shower. So we got to hose ourselves off with a shower head in a bathtub instead. The bidet was the priority for whoever designed this bathroom.

* The toilets in Milano flush differently. They work more like a faucet than a traditional handle.

* I understand that American portions are too big, but the cups for tea are much too small. Even by my standards.

* How are they all still smoking? And in restaurants while people are eating?? It stinks everywhere and cigarette butts litter every corner.

* The stereotypes of Milan as the fashion capital whatever who cares can be identified by the shops, what they sell, how much they sell it for, and how highly they think of themselves. It does not appeal to me.

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explodingchantry · 2 years

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Hi there!

It's been a few years since I properly was active on here. I've obviously reblogged some funny memes across the years, which I hope you've enjoyed. But long argumentative posts? Not so much.

I think there's something admirable about Dragon Age and its lore. Bioware's ability to build a world so deep and believable, with issues which touch so close to home that it leads its fans to argue infinitely with each other. I was going over my world of thedas books to give my flatmate some world building examples and my admiration for Bioware's world building has not diminished. Actually, as a now full fledged writer, having just completed a degree in creative writing and all that jazz... I feel like I can appreciate the work that has gone into Dragon Age and its associated media even more. Is it perfect? Hell the fuck no. But it is deep and thought out and so immensely human. The passion we all have for their world and the issues is something I haven't seen ever since. I've seen a lot of posts making fun of all the arguments we all had and, I mean, I understand. Reading on years old posts about lore that I've forgotten about, it's all incomprehensible, and I'm left asking myself: my god, what the fuck are you even talking about?!

The passion which I had for advocating what was right in this fictional setting is not something I'm ashamed of, however. I spent my time reading and analysing a text I liked. There's nothing shameful about that. What might be shameful is making a whole discourse blog about it and arguing so aggressively with others. I still hold the same ideas - that Anders was right and justified, and that mages should be free. None of my opinions necessarily changed. Cullen is still a little cunt and some of the arguments that have been sent to me to justify the abuse of mages is legitimately horrifying. It resonates with real life abuse apologism. This, on top of how many minorities see themselves in mages and see their plight as a mirror of their own oppression... It's disgusting, to be frank. It leads one to wonder; if you're able to think that about very humanised and relatable characters.... What would you say about real people? Friends, but also strangers? I stand by everything I've said on here, even if the attitude it came with was far too aggressive for the subject matter.

But the opinions I've just outlined interest me, because I am also a strong believer of the "fiction =/= reality" state of mind, which I know I've mentioned before. If you did a pro-templar run because you're interested to see what happens and believe it's the most fun, I always believed that it didn't mean you were a bad person. What I did believe reflected on your morality, is whether out of the game you actually believed in those politics. Because of how they intrinsically tied with real world issues. If you saw the suffering of mages and elves and still believed their oppressors were right it meant you either fell for their framing of the issue (the chantry's belief that mages are dangerous for example) or that you just hated those groups so much you didn't give a shit. This, I think, is what reflects on you. I couldn't care less what you believed made for an interesting scenario in the game, I just cared about what you took out from it.

The true issue though is that I don't believe it's worth getting in so many fights with strangers anymore. It's not healthy. I wasn't... Happy. I felt righteous, I felt energized. But I also felt angry. All the time. I would skip on time bonding with my friends to fight with people on the Internet and at the time I thought that was funny, but in the grand scheme of things? It wasn't good. It was actually sad. No Internet argument, no game is so important that you need to take away from your private time with friends to yell at strangers over the Internet. It's not fun. If you think you're cool and interesting and superior for doing that... I need you to take a moment and sit down. Sit down and just... Think, about everything going on in your life, everything going on in the world and wonder if this truly is the best use of your time. I don't mean this in a judgemental way, because I've been there. But when people say "touch grass," it's out of a feeling of bewilderment that one might care enough about such issues to take time out of their day to rant about it endlessly instead of just... Focusing on other things. Friends, hobbies, self growth. Things that result in happiness. Not anger.

Because what the years have taught me is that this whole arguing over the Internet thing is truly not worth your time or energy, when so many of us are miserable in our day to day lives. Every day brings more pain and misery. Tragedy after tragedy hit our world. We've had so much loss in the past two years alone. But saying this undermines the fact that... There was misery and suffering in the world when I was fighting people on tumblr about mage rights. I can already see the argument, thet we have to remember that we cannot spend every single second of our time gobbling news and misery and trying to change the world. But spending that time to instead argue about fictional politics... There's a cognitive dissonance here that doesn't escape me.

This is a complicated issue! No one should shame themselves or each other for spending time discussing what they were passionate in, and I hope no one will take this post that way. I'm just thinking out loud, about what my place in this fandom was, about what I added to it. And, for as much as I adore Dragon Age and its fandom, knowing all I brought was discourse? Long posts ranting about in-game politics? It's not like I ever brought up anything new, either. I think this fandom deserved more from me, and when da4 comes out... I hope to bring more of a positive impact on this fandom. I want to spend my time making friends, rather than yelling at people!

Thank you however, to everyone who has been kind to me, who have participated in discussions and sent in memes. This fandom is deeply insightful and talented, and in spite of all the arguments I've had... I've truly valued everyone I interacted with. When da4 comes, I hope to interact with you not as an angry ranting little asshole, but as a fellow fan enjoying my time. And if I rant... I hope I do it alongside positive creative content.

Love ya!

#Mod kama #I think I just feel sad bc #My experience in this fandom in the end #Has been a lonely one #Because the only interactions I had was in the context #Of discourse #Even when I got to speak with the ppl I admired #It was always with this context #Sadge #Anyway ty for reading love u all

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keefwho · 1 year

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December 17 - 2022

10:25 AM

Like a HOLY sign I opened up my ACT book and found a section about nurturing relationships. I’m not done reading over it but so far it’s word for word describing the kinds of problems I’m having right now and what I could do about them. I’m excited to find some sturdier direction and put some effort into making positive changes in my behavior. I’ve sulked enough, I’m ready to put work into what I want. I know nothing happens without someone doing something about it. My room won’t get clean without me cleaning it, projects won’t get done without me doing them, and I won’t get better without self work.

I’ve gotten pretty far with my anxiety from the start of my journey and while I’m far from where I want to be, I think I’m far enough to justify focusing more on my relationships. Or focusing on them equally. Maybe I’m just now truly realizing it or I was too afraid to admit it in the past but I struggle socially. Not with interaction but how I treat and feel about my relationships. Now that I think back on it, I’ve unintentionally moved in the direction I want to be going. The friends I’ve made lately are TRUE friends. People I honestly care about and would do anything for, and I feel that in return. A lot of relationships in the past have not been open to emotional discussion and it limited how intimate things were. And it was always my fault, I was not open emotionally until this year.

There are so many things wrong with how I tend to think about people and act towards them, its too much to unpack right now. Its definitely something that needs to be taken one step at a time. I’ll keep going back to my book for guidance on what kinds of topics I can focus on.

3:52 PM

I was not prepared enough for Christmas. I have a thing to draw I haven’t started on, some model work I haven’t started on, and a physical project that is taking much more learning than I thought it would. Unless I crank all this out in a week, things are gonna be late. Especially the one I have to mail. That one probably can’t get there in time even if I finished it today. It sucks but I know it’s not a big a deal as I’m making it. What matters is that I made anything at all, my friends won’t mind if things are late.

10:11 PM

This even went very well. I ran into someone I apparently met before but unfriended because we never hang out after that initial meeting, and we had fun. We had a funny little squad with him, one of my friends, and another furry we met along the way. It was a nice social night. I didn’t go in intending to do this, but I felt very empathetic and caring towards everyone. Thats my goal, to truly care even though I might just be with a stranger. I want to listen to and accept people naturally. Tonight I did that.

11:45 PM

This Christmas present project is KILLING ME, I can’t stop thinking about it because I really wanna do a good job on it. I gotta chill out and give it the appropriate amount of time and thought. And try my best which is all I can really do. I imagine I won’t be able to make it as good as I fantasize about but I’ll give it my all.

12:39 AM

I thought I had tasted the unmistakable flavor of broken tooth after brushing my teeth tonight and I think something chipped off of one of my upper wisdom teeth. Very annoying, why there of all places? I can’t even chew with those because of my other fucked up teeth and I’ve been good about brushing my teeth ever since I started growing them in. Why would they get fucked up?

I really need a dentist visit but at this point I’d wanna get completely knocked out so they can do everything in one go. There’s enough to do to justify that.

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arcanadreams · 3 years

Text

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?)

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~”

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams.

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that.

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way.

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism.

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?”

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on.

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process.

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care.

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet.

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention.

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram.

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place.

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly.

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

#IM SO HAPPY TO HAVE FINALLY WRITTEN THIS #obey me #my writing #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #posts

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danhoemei · 3 years

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Hi, danhoemei.....if you don't mind me asking who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (canon or non-canon)? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Hello thanad-zid, the curious sweetheart 💚 I don't mind at all, you actually made me think about the series I haven't thought about for so long! (I'll answer excluding danmei because that's material for a whole separate post and I partly answered that)

19 days by Old Xian - tianshan

(and zhanyi who I love with my whole heart but tianshan is The One for me akjvsbdv)

Tough on the outside but soft on the inside delinquent and the devilish lonely rich boy who'll go batshit crazy if his friends are in danger. Both of them learning to trust and very slowly showing their vulnerable sides to each other.... I can't say much, it's already a spoiler that they become closer because in the story they start as strangers or even "enemies". They're also secondary characters so they make appearance later in the story and gradually gain more importance (well, it started with them being secondary but tbh now they're one of the main characters with a lot of focus AND I AM SO HAPPY). But anyway, I am absolutely obsessed with them.

The original main pair (zhanyi) has completely different dynamic and vibe, but I love them and enjoy their story and relationship very much as well <3

This series has such variety of multilayered characters who honestly could have their own separate manhuas. I absolutely recommend 19 days, it started like absolute crack but gained so much depth and action and angst and questioning yourself and 'am I abnormal for having feelings for you' and trust and progress in relationships and-

I love this manhua so much, please read it, if you enjoy danmei you'll enjoy it.

Their story by Tan Jiu

You want a sweet story about a lesbiab who fell in love at first sight and then pursued her love interest, firstly becoming friends and learning about each other, everything among a lot of humor and shenanigans? Well here you go.

Brooklyn 9-9 - Jake and Amy & Friends - Monica and Chandler

I see similarities so I put them together lmao. They are wholesome and sweet, support each other no matter what, work for their dreams and for people they hold dear. The guys are hella funny but also very smart and cool, the girls are intense and ambitious and need to have everything under control but are also very sweet and loving. The shows are light and hilarious, good as a stress relief.

The Good Place - Chidi and Eleanor

First of all I recommend The Good Place in general, a wild ride of unexpected twists and turns, each reveal more “whaaat” than the previous one, with diverse representation and filled with philosophical questions and lessons, created by people who love philosophy. Its humor is incredible as well akjvndfv

Chidi and Eleanor are complete opposites - a nerd with severe anxiety issues who spent his whole life buried in books, and a bi disaster who partied hard, made a lot of bad things, and cared mostly about herself. They learn from each other and complement each other, all the while growing and changing right in front of our eyes.

Aggretsuko - Retsuko and Haida

HAIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA im love him your honor. Get a partner who can do both (be sweet and supportive, be badass and taking no bullshit). I truly believe they'd be happy and just right for each other, and I want them to be together 😭😭

Yuri on ice - Yuri and Victor

akhdbsdjkfnlsdf if you watched this then you know why. I recommend it if you want a good quality lgbt anime with an interesting story, diverse characters, and beautiful skating scenes 💚 I love this wholesome duo so much T^T

Svvord of Truth - Richard and KahIan

I kinda feel like I owe it to them to mention them here, probably my earliest couple on this list. It’s an old high fantasy series which I read when I plunged straight into puberty, I haven't read it as a more mature person so I wonder if there are some harmful stereotypes I didn't see or how many typical tropes there are (well e.g. the main guy is so ridiculously overpowered and smarter/holier-than-thou, and there is a lot of black and white there) but also it’s a really complex world with interesting mechanics. However, what truly makes me remember this series fondly is because it was there with me when I was going through a lot of hardships, showing me a rich world with many people worth loving, strong women who I admired and strived to be, wise people of different backgrounds, cultures, and ages. It taught me how important it is to be kind and compassionate, that no matter how desperate your situation can get there is always hope and a way, that people who care about you will be there for you when you need them, and that you need to reciprocate as well. To always “think about the solution, not about the problem” which became the thing I repeat to myself every time I start struggling. The main couple also showed me what I want to strive for in a good relationship - support, understanding, standing by each other’s side no matter what, deep respect for each other and treating each other as equals, working for the relationship, and most importantly trusting each other. The series might be a typical high fantasy but for my growing and messed up mind it was a good teacher who reminded me of things we consider obvious but tend to forget, and might have played a significant role in who I am now.

Ok, I wanted to add a short bullet-point list of some other couples but this list is already long so let’s end here xd

#ask #ask opinion #thanad zid #not danmei #recommendations #19 days #their story #brooklyn 99 #the good place #aggretsuko #yuri on ice #long post #i see some recurring tropes skdjvnsdkfn #slow burn #rivals to lovers #power couple #teasing characters #a lot of humor #getting together #wholesome relationships #feral characters #also I realised that although I've been a bookworm since childhood and spent my whole days and nights on reading #these were all action oriented or fantasy or scientific books and even tho there were couples there I never really gotten into them #and apparently my need for romance was filled by danmei and anime and later series #I have a lot of ships from anime but that would be too long list xd #anyway there is one more ship I'd include in the main list bc I'm very much into it literally at the moment #but that fandom is so toxic and even violent that I'd rather not mention the pair #well that was fun thank you for your ask! 💚💚💚💚#I need to go back to 19 days and their story bc I haven't read the updates for A YEAR aaaaa #and I saw that there is so much going on with tianshan and fandom is going wild lmao

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imjusttpeachy · 3 years

Text

she's a rae of sunshine (c.h.)

okay so this was a request but i completely read it wrong so i’m gonna write it again but i finished this one anyway so here take it

so sorry to the anon who requested it bc u were so fuckin sweet i’ll have it up asap i promise

playlist

ralph castelli - morning sex

crumb - bones

jorja smith - teenage fantasy

summary: balancing college life and wanting to support your best friends online endeavors was difficult, but reader regrets trying a little harder when she finally meets one of her newer stream-mates

word count: 2, 828

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, lowkey OOC Corpse, that needs its own warning i’m sorry,

•••

“Look you knew I had to stream before I said you could come over ya fuckin idiot.”

“Yea I knowwwww, I just wanted to spend more time with my super-hot best friend forever.”

Being the best friend of an online personality had its perks— the amazing trips you got to hitch a ride on, the adoring fans that seemed to latch on to you as well, the sponsorships that would always send you something along with the original PR package, and especially the way she was able to choose their own work hours.

Well... mostly.

As much as you adored spending time together during the day, whether it be shopping or going out for brunch, those late nights that always seemed to hold the most memories you held so dear were few and far between. Of course, you couldn’t blame her; responsibilities were responsibilities, and fuck if you’d let your selfish wants override the way she chooses to get her work done. You really couldn’t be one to judge either-- having to call off dates because you’d underestimated the time you needed to complete a school paper, or when a last-minute lab was called in and you’d have to leave her sitting alone in those cafes with your half-finished mocha and a promise to Venmo her the money to cover it later. What left you feeling the most guilty, though, was the fact that you weren’t able to watch her content as much as you’d like to. Sure, you’d catch a few minutes of a stream here and there but any time you spent apart was usually spent with your head buried in a book, mind bleary with countless espresso shots trying to keep your tired eyes focused on the seemingly unending work in front of you.

But, a distraction every now and then couldn’t hurt. Right?

Having had enough of your current assignment, any coherent thought was long gone, you’d decided to pay your favourite person a little visit. You knew she’d probably be busy as she hadn’t replied to your previous text for a few hours, but knowing her presence alone and any passing comments would lift the heaviness that had found its home in your head and chest, you shot her a message to let her know that her office couch would be occupied by you for the next few hours. Normally, you’d just show up so you knew she wouldn’t have a problem with it; so when that fateful message popped up on your phone giving you the go-ahead you completely ignored the warning of her work schedule and drove right over.

So now here you were, sprawled haphazardly on her couch clad in sweats and a sports bra scrolling through your phone as you watched her finish her final touches so she could start her stream.

“You’re gonna be in the background of my face cam if you wanna sit there y’know.” Groaning in response to her warning not wanting to move from the comfy spot you just found, you looked over at her with the best puppy eyes you could muster. She chuckled softly, raising her hands in surrender as she turned back to her setup. “Hey I really don’t care, just warning ya bug. The thirst comments and screenshots are outta my hands.”

Scoffing under your breath at her comment, you turned your head back to your phone as a Twitter notification popped up at the top of your screen.

Corpse Husband: streaming among us in a few mins, join in on youtube

Heartbeat picking up slightly, you scrambled for the purse you’d thrown at the base of the couch for your headphones. Ever since you’d found this handsome-voiced stranger’s channel on your late night horror binges, you had fallen completely in love. While you weren’t typically the type to watch video game commentary outside of Rae, his voice got you completely hooked and you couldn’t get enough of it. Yeah, maybe you were a bit of a simp, but that sweet and genuine personality that hid behind that gravelly tone had you melting completely into his clutches. You tried to convince yourself to get over it, you didn’t even know what he looked like. But, y’know, a little crush wouldn’t hurt anybody right?

“Going live in T-minus 30 seconds babe.” Jumping slightly as Rae’s voice knocked you out of dreamland, you mumbled out a small “got it” as you once again got focused on getting your headphones connected to your phone. You’d never been able to watch one of his lives before, his horror commentary videos usually playing as background noise as you did schoolwork or while you were falling asleep. Practically shaking with excitement, you opened your YouTube app seeing the live at the very top and tapping on it immediately only to be met with that sweet laugh ringing through your headphones like music to your ears. You grinned to yourself, grabbing the throw pillow you had previously tossed to the floor and hugging it to your chest while your eyes remained glued to your phone screen, completely forgetting what was happening around you as you zeroed in on the gravelly tone you’d fallen oh-so in love with.

“Hey (Y/N) wave hi.” You startled slightly as the faint voice of your friend sounded from across the room. Glancing up from your phone, you pulled an earbud from your ear and furrowed your brows at her before slowly processing what she said, lifting a hand in greeting to her watchers. She laughed at your confusing antics, turning slightly in her chair to look over at you. “What the hell are you so smiley about?”

“…Nothing..” You grinned widely as her laugh once again resounded around the room, shaking her head at you before turning back to her screen with a scoff, muttering something under her breath so only her watchers could hear. Smile still plastered across your lips, you settled back down into the comfiness of the couch and popped your earbud back in, zeroing in again on the screen in front of you. Watching as Corpse moved his character around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join, a small giggle escaped from under your breath; trying your best to be mindful of Rae’s stream but not being able to hold back the flustered feeling welling up in your chest, mind giddy with the thought of finally being able to see one of his famous live streams, well, live. It had only been a few seconds later when you heard Rae’s voice once again, only this time, not as muffled as before.

“What’s up motherfuckers.” Brows furrowing in confusion, you lifted your hand to your earbud and pulled it from your ear once again, hearing her voice from across the room but from your other earbud as well. No, there was no fucking way. All your questions were answered, though, as you glanced back down at your phone screen seeing a red character move around the game lobby along with Corpse’s, the gamer tag ‘Valkyrae’ floating just above it. Blinking hard at your screen trying to convince yourself that your eyes were lying to you, you slowly pulled your hand to cover your mouth in shock. How… How could you possibly not know they knew each other? With the way they spoke to each other in sarcastic comments, poking fun at the other it sounded like they were close too. Body finally catching up with your thoughts, you scrambled at your phone, shaky hands moving as quickly as they could to pull up your texts with Rae. Your fingers tapped furiously at the screen, anxious to get back to the live stream to listen in more but also needing to know what the fuck was going on.

TO my rae of sunshine: care to explain what the fuck is going on??! how the fuck do you know corpse husband?????!??!

“Oops sorry guys, guess I forgot to turn off my phone ringer-“ Staring up at the back of her head helplessly, you watched as she picked up her phone seeming to read out the text before bursting into a peal of laughter. Tossing a look at you over her shoulder, you looked back down at your phone bashfully, seeing the three loading dots in your message thread indicating that she was messaging you back.

my rae of sunshine: lol what about it? you gotta crush on him or something?

TO my rae of sunshine: …no

Hitting send you rushed back to the stream, anxious to see what Corpse was saying in response to Rae’s absence, not thinking anything about your brief conversation and thinking you would discuss it after she had logged off for the night. Though, as you heard her phone chime again from across the room followed by another bark of laughter, you knew you weren’t getting off that easy.

“What are you laughing about?” Corpse’s honeyed voice sounded from your earbud, hearing Rae’s giggles from what you presumed to be their discord voice chat. Glancing anxiously between his stream and the reflection of Rae’s face cam in one of her monitors, your heart began to sink as you watched that familiar mischievous grin tugging at the edge of her lips.

“Oh just my friend (Y/n) sent me a funny meme”

“Wait, is she the one in some of your Instagram posts?” You swear your heart stopped beating at that moment, eyes glued to the screen in front of you as you tried helplessly to process the conversation happening right in front of you. He knew who you were? You thought you’d always be lost among the hundreds of thousands of his new adoring fans, left in the anonymity of your Twitter tag in his subtweets, or just another subscriber that fawned over him silently behind a keyboard. Knowing that he’d actually seen your face you could feel your own beginning to heat at that moment; you brought your hands your mouth again, unknowingly curling your body tighter around the pillow in your lap as you tried to hide your face behind it as you become more and more flustered from the words nonchalantly escaping his mouth.

“Yea that’s her, pretty thing isn’t she? She’s my absolute favourite.”

That’s it, you were gonna fucking kill her.

“I mean, yeah... I guess..” The timid words followed by a soft awkward chuckle had your breath hitching in your throat. There was no fucking way this was happening. This had to be a dream, that was the only possible explanation. You were just about to pinch yourself when Rae’s voice startled you from your thoughts.

“She’s actually over right now. She insisted on getting wine drunk later tonight because her professor’s been on her ass lately. I’ll get her to come say hi.” Rae had barely turned around in her chair when she was met with your wide-eyed gaze, panic painted across your features as you shook your head wildly. You were in no state to be talking to your long-time internet crush in such a casual setting. But with the look Rae shot you from her chair as she started to plug another headset into her PC, you knew you had no choice and begrudgingly pulled yourself from the couch almost tripping over your own feet as you shakily walked over to Rae. Shooting her another pleading look, she only shoved the headset in your direction in return as she grinned up at you. Finally biting the bullet, you pulled on the headset and leaned down toward the mic.

“Hi, how’s it going?” Cursing at yourself for how quiet and shaky your words came out, you barely had any time to think it over before a chorus of greetings sounded through the headset. A small giggle escaped your lips as you watched the different Discord icons appear and disappear from the top of the screen. You knew most of these people already which made you even more confused as to how you managed to miss that voice from all the discord chats and voice calls. Well, knowing them was a bit of an overstatement anyway; you knew /of/ them, and they knew /of/ you in the other times you popped up in the background or in passing conversation during Rae’s streams. They did know you well enough, though, to know this was not the way you usually spoke around them.

“No way, that can’t be the (Y/N) I know!” The voice you recognize as Sean echoes through your headset, another chorus of knowing laughter following quickly after. Taking a deep breath you managed to force out a few words that would get them off your case.

“…Shut the fuck up”

“There she is!!” As the group erupted in laughter yet again, all you could focus on was the faint deep chuckle that resounded through your headset. Feeling your face start to heat up, you covered your wide grin with your hand as butterflies burst through your stomach; you could listen to that laugh all day. Before you were able to speak again, though, that heavenly voice piped up and wiped all train of thought from your mind.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you too Corpse. I gotta be honest ‘n say I’m a pretty big fan of your no-sleep work.” And... there’s the word vomit. Fuck, you could feel your cheeks starting to heat up with the ongoing realization of who you were talking to.

“Aha thank you, I uh really appreciate that. I’m sure you just heard, but I guess you could say I’m a fan of yours also.”

No.

No, there’s no fucking way.

Is he...

Flirting with you?

Before you could even think about what to reply to that with, the rest of the group beat you to it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what is happening.”

“CORPSE! You SIMP!”

“Is- Is Corpse really shooting his shot right now?”

You didn’t realize you were frozen in place until you felt Rae’s hand on your elbow, snapping you out of your bewildered trance as you tried to comprehend what was happening yourself. As your thoughts finally caught up to the present, you could feel your cheeks start to burn; pulling your hand up to cover your face you stepped out of the view of the face cam. Rae’s laughter filled the room as she watched your flustered antics, shooting you a sly grin as she started scanning the monitor displaying her live chat.

“Wait, wait, chats telling me (y/n)’s blushing right now?” Sean’s voice echoed through the discord chat, only making you flush further as you tried desperately to find a way out of this.

“Okay, okay, leave her alone.” Corpse’s voice finally piped up amid all of the chaos causing everyone to immediately pipe down. God, you didn’t even want to begin to think of the mess this has already made, you just needed to get out of there before you caused any more damage.

“Yeah, I uh- see- see that the lobby’s full so I’ll just uh- leave you guys to it.” Quietly thanking the stars that Corpse finally got you out of this mess, you went to pull the headset off your ears when that fateful voice piped up again.

“Wait, don’t let these nerds make you leave. You should stay- I mean, only to help Rae y'know? She needs it.”

“I do not!”

“I- I mean yea sure, as long as I’m not intruding,” Cursing yourself again for stuttering before forcing yourself to swallow the knot in your throat, “I mean, she really does need the help.”

“Okay just because you want to flirt some more doesn’t mean you can bully me-“

“Okay, I’m starting the round!” The booming accented voice cut off everyone else in the call as you all stared as the screen began to count down to the game, and before anyone had the chance to say anything else a chorus of laughs resounded, and then the lobby fell into silence.

•••

And it went on like that, the not-so-subtle flirting followed by relentless jabs from the group immediately after. The game was almost forgotten with how much of each lobby was taken up by teasing words and endless laughter, but every audience was just eating it up. You didn’t even want to think about the mess social media was going to be after this stream but right now you were having fun with your friends and that’s all that mattered. The grin was practically plastered on your face as you laughed along with Rae the chat during the gameplay portions and you knew everything from this moment on was gonna be different, but you couldn’t find a single thing within you to care.

Especially when you logged onto Twitter right after the stream and saw that little message right at the top of your requests.

@.corpsehusband: wanna hear some of that no sleep work in person?

•••

beep bop here u go,

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagine #corpse husband imagine #corpse x you #corpse husband x you

376 notes · View notes

doveypink · 3 years

Text

come and find me [technoblade imagine]

summary: techno faces the consequences of your death. word count: 5.4k warnings: mentions of death, violence. a/n: this is a sequel to the one i left behind; read that first![ tag list: @shu5h @sylum @zefrenchturtle ]

Time is a tricky thing. It is insistent, always rushing forward without fail and unforgiving to those swept away in its tide. On occasion, though, time is a gentle monster; it takes you in its arms and kisses your head, lays you gently in the waves, and carries you to shore.

Time was not so kind to Technoblade.

Following the death of his friend, the archer, time became his enemy. Each day thereafter was a living hell full of tsunamis and stormy seas that bellowed within. The voices in his head used to sound like a low hum, the soft slap of waves in the back of his mind. Now, they were as loud as ever; if he didn’t catch himself in time, Techno would be overcome by the crashing waves and the tumultuous ocean inside his head.

“You have that look again,” Phil said softly from across the room. Techno’s eyes jumped to meet Phil’s, no longer burning holes into the wooden planks of the floor.

“You keep saying that like I know what it means,” Techno griped, instantly feeling sorry at the sight of Phil’s frown. The older man sighed and stepped towards his friend, taking a seat next to him.

“I know it’s difficult right now. That’s an understatement, clearly, but you saw what happened with Wilbur and I,” Phil explained, a cloudy look in his eyes. “It’s not easy to be asked to do something like that. All we can do is hope that it was for the best and carry on.”

The voices swarmed more powerfully in Techno’s head. He knew it was wrong to feel so angry at Phil for trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem fair. Wilbur was Phil’s son, yes, but their bond was nothing like the one Techno had with his friend. The rage, the emptiness, the carelessness that Technoblade was experiencing reached heights that no person could begin to understand. The pain was his alone to carry.

Phil took note of Techno’s silence and gave his arm a gentle pat. “I’m here if you ever need anything,” he said. The man stood and padded out of the room to leave Techno on his own, his gaze turned back to the wooden planks.

Techno often wondered about you at times like this, when he found himself boiling in his own rage without someone to level him. Funnily enough, you weren’t much different from him in your anger; you would grit your teeth and quietly stare at some spot in the corner or keep your hands busy with anything you could find until you would tire yourself out. He wished he could see you now or hear your voice to remind him to calm down. He knew you were still around as a ghost, but your presence didn’t ease him as it once did. Nowadays, the thought of you only filled him with guilt, and his heart felt hollow without you around. It was hard to even look you in the eyes anymore.

“Techno?”

As if summoned by his own thoughts, you appeared in the window of the cabin. Your hands were cupped against the glass as you peered in comically, your eyes squinted as you struggled to see through the foggy glass. Techno glanced at you and sighed, rising from his chair to let you in; he tried ignoring you once, but it resulted in you attempting to climb through his window, so he always welcomed you in. Technoblade swung the door open and you jumped into view, cheerful as ever.

“Techno! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Looking for me?” the man wondered, crossing his arms. “I’m always here.”

“I know, I just got a little lost again,” you said sheepishly, wringing your hands. Techno stepped aside to let you in, foolishly wondering for a moment if he should let you borrow his cloak to keep warm. It would change nothing, of course; you were a ghost, the cold didn’t bother you. It was funny in some awful, convoluted way how often Techno forgot that you were dead. As a ghost, you would come and go at random, yet your presence hung over him like storm clouds. You were everywhere, bouncing around behind his eyes and throughout the cabin: all the books on the shelves you never read, the letters with your handwriting strewn across the desk, the scratches in the floorboards from when you dragged your chair. They were reminders of you, as if he could possibly forget.

“Don’t you have the compass Phil gave you?” Techno asked, referring to an enchanted compass which directed you to the cabin. Phil had given it to you during your last visit, much to Techno’s disapproval; he hated seeing you like this. It’s like you were a new person entirely, a stranger that wore your skin, but your soul had been exchanged for something else. He wasn’t sure who you were anymore, and every voice in his head argued that this was his own fault.

“I gave it to Ranboo,” you replied, fiddling with your sleeve. “He needs it more than I do, doesn’t he?”

“It was a gift for you,” Techno griped. “You can’t just give it away. Who knows what people could do if they had a direct line to us? Too many know where we are as it is.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind. Ranboo basically lives here now.”

“Well, you were wrong.” Despite the warmth of the cabin, a chill seemed to run through the room as Techno stared coldly at his friend. He wasn’t sure why this angered him so much; realistically, he knew that what you had done was a smart idea. Ranboo lived just nearby Techno and Phil’s cabin, and with his memory issues, it wasn’t safe for him to wander aimlessly through the cold. Still, something about the way you could give such a tool away hurt him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t even want you around—he could hardly stand having to look at your ashen skin, and hearing your voice made his heart shake with grief—so why did he care?

You frowned, taking a small step forward to place a hand on your friend’s shoulder. Techno flinched at the contact, alarmed by the deadly cold that seeped through his cape. Up close, you could feel it: Techno was alive, yet the dark chill of death seemed to bound itself to him like a shadow. This was your influence; the bitterness that you rarely saw in him during your living days was an arrow, and you were its target.

“I know you don’t want me here. I can see it,” you said. Techno’s eyes widened slightly as you continued. “You look at me like—like I’m a stranger, but you’re searching for someone else. I know you can’t help it and neither can I, but I want to be that person so bad. I want to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t know how. I just miss feeling normal. I miss you.”

Techno swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. “I don’t think I can help you,” he admitted, taking a step towards the cabin door. He felt the cold air press against the wood and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Whatever reassurance you need, I can’t give that to you. And you can’t come here haunting the place until I do, either. I don’t need ghosts.”

“But you… You’ll still let me visit, won’t you?” You asked quietly.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He seemed to consider it for a moment before responding, his voice not quite as frostbitten as moments earlier: “You can always visit.”

It was strange how suddenly Techno seemed like himself again. The winter froze him over, encasing all the warmth you could recall from when you were alive, but now the ice shuddered and cracked. The guilt that he had grown accustomed to merged with a longing he had been afraid to feel; he missed you, he missed every second that you weren’t around, and he hated himself for it. It was a selfish thought to want you here when he was the one who tore you away from the life you once clung to. It was selfish to want something good when all he seemed to do was snuff out any glimpse of light that came his way.

You smiled, albeit dolefully, and glanced around the room. You noticed a sheen of silver hanging on the wall and, propped against the wall, was a quiver of arrows—the same weapon you had found in the rubble of L’Manburg. The item you had once cherished no longer served a purpose to you, so you gifted them to Technoblade on your first visit postmortem. It surprised you that he accepted the gift in the first place, given that he seemed completely unnerved with your presence, so it was odd to see it displayed on the wall where all could see. It reminded you of an urn, a tangible indication of someone lost.

You weren’t sure how you felt by the sight of the item; were you meant to be flattered? Offended? The experiences that followed your death were far more puzzling than the ones you had in your life. When you were alive, you developed how to think and feel through socializing—your life was nurtured, guided along by those you met. In death, however, you were isolated. Techno already said it: he didn’t need ghosts, no one did. No living person wanted to face the dead because they were busy with the troubles of their lives, and rightfully so. Still, it was lonely to be dead. There was nothing that could teach you how to live in shadow, nobody to hold your hand and tell you that you would be alright. Death stole you right when you thought you would have survived to see the day, made a fool by hope, and your only friend was left to see the sun rise without you. This was it, this was the cruel joke nature played on the wanderers of the earth: to live and watch those you love die, or to die and watch those you love live.

Your gaze was pulled from the sharp curve of steel and you headed to the door. “I should leave you, now. I didn’t mean to…” Uncertainty crossed your features and you gestured your hands through the air to fill in the blank.

Techno seemed to understand, nodding as he reached to open the door for you. It was a quiet goodbye as you slipped into the snow, only turning back to wave at your friend as his cabin shrank in your view. The man stood in the doorway until you were a speck in the distance, a stir in his heart which rushed through him like a cold breeze. You would return.

* * * * *

“What do you know about necromancy, Phil?”

The older man looked up from his book. His eyes narrowed at his pink friend and held a look of disapproval. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

Techno frowned, crossing his arms. “What? I barely said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Phil sighed, snapping his book shut. “It’s not a good idea to bring them back, especially if they haven’t told you that they want to come back. You don’t know what it could do.”

“But you do. You can help.”

“I don’t want to help. And besides, the methods I’ve tried haven’t been successful, I know from the attempts with Wilbur. It didn’t change anything. You have to give this a rest, it's been weeks since you slept.”

“Well you’ve done more research, haven’t you?” Techno took a seat across from Phil and leaned in. “There’s gotta be something you didn’t try or somebody who knows enough.”

Phil hesitated and looked down at his hands. “I don’t want you to do this, but… You could speak with Dream.”

The younger man stiffened, trying to mask his displeasure. “What for?”

“I heard that he was doing research of his own. I don’t know what his method is or if it even works, but I don’t trust it. He wants to make himself a god, so it can’t be without its consequences.”

“Godship always comes with consequences. I’ll take my chances.”

“Are you really prepared for that?” Phil looked his friend in the eyes. “It’s too much of a risk to try—”

“I know that,” Techno snapped, rising from his chair. “And I know what I want. I want them back. I want Dream to be sorry that he ever hurt them. I want to—” Techno stopped himself from continuing his enraged rant. He wanted to feel whole again, he thought. He wanted to wake up and feel safe knowing you were in the next room over. He wanted to argue with you over nothing and know that you would forgive him nonetheless. He wanted to wake up early after a long day of travel and watch the sunrise with you, to see the whole world light up in your eyes. The emptiness he was stranded with was from your absence, he knew this now. You were the sun to his moon, but you were forever hidden under the horizon, casting him into the shade.

Phil’s frown deepened. He spoke softly, carefully. “I know you’re hurting, but you need to think this through. Is this really what you want?”

Techno refused to meet the older man’s gaze. You were gone because of him, and you would come back for him. He wasn’t going to let this go quietly. “Yes,” he said finally. The icy air whipped through the house as he opened the cabin door and slammed it shut, a mission in his mind.

* * * * *

The journey to the prison was an expectedly silent one. Few people were to be seen as Technoblade wandered through the country—whether out of fear for the man or some other reason, he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, he trudged down the paths he used to know, eventually coming upon the evil-looking building. The massive walls loomed over him, the shadows stretching across the grass in sharp lines. After taking a quick glance of the perimeter, Techno proceeded to the entrance of the prison.

Upon entering, he was faced with a portal and a switch off to his right. The man glanced around once before slapping the button, waiting for a guard to come by. There was a brief period of silence, then a disembodied voice: “Hello?”

“Hello,” Techno echoed, unsure of where to look. “How do I, uh, get in?”

“Just step through the portal and I’ll get to you in a second,” the guard replied. Techno followed his instructions and stepped in the portal, a feeling like water rippling against his skin. Techno emerged from the other side to see a desk and a podium in front of it with a large book sat upon it. Behind the counter of the desk was the prison guard, Sam.

“Hello, Technoblade. Step up to the podium, I’ll need you to read that book aloud to me and sign, then I have to ask you a few questions.”

The piglin stood directly in front of the podium, peering down at the book. He read out the protocols, frowning at the mention of being locked in the prison should the security be threatened. Techno signed his name on the book anyway, handing it to the guard.

“Thank you. Can I ask when you last visited the prison?”

“Never,” Techno replied. “Shouldn’t that be obvious?”

“It’s just an extra security measure,” Sam explained. “Some of our visitors may have a lapse in memory. Now, what’s your relationship with the prisoner?”

The other man considered the question for a moment until he settled on a suitable answer. “Ex-colleague.”

“Alright, and where is your place of residence?”

“Up north, in the arctic.”

“Good, good. Follow me to your locker, I’ll need you to place everything inside the chest. Once you’re done, press that button on the side to get the key.”

Techno followed the guard’s instructions, feeling slightly uneasy with the lack of protection in his inventory. He retrieved the key, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm, then deposited it into an ender chest. The guard was waiting patiently outside the locker room. “Follow me and do exactly as I say,” he ordered, leading Techno through the prison.

Sam guided Techno through a series of security checks and exercises to minimize his strength through potions. The piglin felt slightly lightheaded from the various trials and journeys through halls full of water and lava. Eventually, the pair of men reached the entrance of the maximum security cell, which looked empty save for the switches on the far wall.

“Stand on that platform right there,” Sam instructed, gesturing towards a number of tiles placed before a large screen of lava. Techno stepped onto the tiles, glancing over his shoulder to watch the guard fiddle with the controls. “The lava will stop in a minute or two. Just stay where you are and be careful when the platform moves,” Sam warned, keeping a firm gaze on the piglin.

Techno grunted a reply, waiting patiently until the barrier of lava parted like a curtain before a play. Between the bright orange drapery, he saw Dream come into view. The prisoner stood silently in the corner of his cell, his dull green eyes bearing a blank expression. There was a pink scar across the bridge of his nose, one Techno realized he received from you. His blond hair was long and unkept, a shadow of stubble on his chin—a blatant difference from the composed appearance he once possessed.

The platform shifted forward, rolling Techno straight towards the cell. A barricade stretched between the walls and the visitor crossed his arms in waiting. Finally, the space between the men opened, and the piglin took a step into the cell. Behind him, the wall of lava fell again, trapping the pair within the confines of the obsidian.

The prisoner inched forward from the corner. “I was beginning to think you’d never visit,” Dream said.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” the pig-man replied, glancing around at the mostly-bare walls of the cell. There was a clock on the wall set to the wrong time, a cauldron of water, and a desk with writing utensils in the corner. No other possessions decorated the cell.

“Hm. What made you change your mind?”

Techno’s eyes met the prisoner. “I need your help.”

Dream chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “The blood god needs my help? With what, may I ask?”

“I know what you can do,” Techno stated, drawing closer to the prisoner. “I know you can raise people from the dead.”

The blond man scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you want? You need me to bring back your friend?”

“Exactly. And you’ll do it.”

Dream hummed, considering the other man’s words before he finally responded. “No, I don’t think I will.” Dream leaned against the wall, looking bored. “You have nothing for me. And besides, I’m not sure you’re prepared to bring back the archer. It’d be pointless.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Techno growled, annoyed with the prisoner’s lack of cooperation. “You know I’m a dedicated man.”

“And that’s exactly why you can’t bring them back. You don’t have the guts to do it.”

Techno rushed forward and grabbed Dream by the collar, teeth bared as he glared at the man. “Careful there, Dream. You don’t want to provoke your ticket out of here.”

Dream laughed unflinchingly in the god’s face. “Right, and what can you do? Kill me and lose your only chance to have them back? You’re not an idiot, and neither am I. We both know exactly how this would go down if you set me free.”

“I wouldn’t kill you, but I can easily make you regret living,” Techno spat, gritting his teeth. “You’re going to bring them back.”

“No,” Dream scoffed, seemingly unfazed by the other man’s threats. “You think you know exactly what you want, don’t you? I’m not sure you understand how traumatic it would be for them to come back, Techno. Don’t you get it? They’d wake up and feel disgusted by you. You killed them. You could have saved them, but you were too weak to even try. Besides,” he continued, lowering his voice, “I think they look much better rotting in the dirt.”

Techno shoves the prisoner against the wall, chest heaving with anger and guilt. The voices were like white noise in his mind, screeching for blood as his heart pounded. Dream slid to the floor and laughed maniacally; the sound made Techno’s head pound with the dull pain of an oncoming headache. There was no mask to hide the deranged look in the prisoner’s eyes as he held his stomach and howled with cruel pleasure. “They’re dead,” Dream gasped between laughter. “They’re dead and it’s all your fault!”

It was a mistake to have gone to the prison for answers, and Techno felt foolish for his actions as he called for Sam to let him out. Dream remained slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking with an awful cackle that faded as Techno disappeared from the cell.

Technoblade could hardly recall the journey back to his cabin. Once he was out of the prison, he bounded through the war torn country, red hot fury searing in his veins. The voices wanted blood; they screeched and clamored inside the cage of his skull, raging into white noise that struck Techno like an arrow to the heart. Flashes of memories he had tried to suppress came rushing back—the crack of fireworks resounding in his ears. The smell of burnt flesh. Blood staining him from head to toe. He stumbled through the hills and snow, clamoring up the short set of stairs and through the cabin door. His head was pounding so awfully that the man became nauseous, collapsing to his knees as he dug his fingers into his scalp. It wasn’t until a hand came to rest on his shoulder that Techno finally managed to look up. His eyes burned and, with a start, he realized that he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, mate. I’ve got you. You’re okay, take a deep breath,” Phil assured him, a firm grip stabilizing his piglin friend. Technoblade took in short, stuttering breaths, before Phil patted his shoulder and told him to take it easy. He made another attempt, inhaling slowly, then exhaling, repeating the motion until he was calm enough to speak.

“He won’t do it. He doesn’t want me to—He won’t.” Despite how hard he tried, Techno couldn’t stop the tremor in his voice. He hated this, he hated the vulnerability of it all. There was no space in his heart for the amount of pain he had been suppressing, and it was finally overflowing. He wished you were here. He wished so badly that he wasn’t such a fool.

Phil, conscious of his friend’s needs, pulled his hand away. “You know, someone was hoping to see you today.”

Techno looked up, watching Phil move aside to bring you into his line of sight. He hadn’t even noticed you were there in the midst of his agony, but the cold followed you as you drew closer. You were silent until you knelt down, reaching a hand out to your friend. “Come with me?” You asked gently, giving him a chance to refuse.

Techno looked down at your outstretched hand, examining the creases in your ashen skin. After a moment of consideration, he took it, hyper aware of your freezing touch. You led your friend out of the cabin, carefully guiding him to a destination you had yet to announce. Techno was curious as to what you were up to, but he didn’t have the energy to speak, especially not to you. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize to you, to tell you how sorry he was for what he did to you, for the eternity you had been stranded with. There weren’t enough words in the world to admit how sorry he really was.

The pair of you traveled away from the cabin, through a forest of evergreens blanketed in snow; you walked past white foxes scurrying between bushes and birds fluttering overhead; you hopped over fallen trees and climbed a hill, finally stopping once you reached its peak. “We’re here,” you announced.

Techno stood at your side and admired the view: the sun was beginning to fall, clinging to the horizon. The entire land was bathed in golden hues, causing the snow to sparkle in the warm glow. With this light, your skin seemed to regain its warmth, a refreshing contrast to the ashen look of death which Techno had grown used to. He watched you gaze wordlessly at the sky before breaking the silence. “Why are we here?”

You admired the sight for a moment longer, then, gesturing for Techno to copy your motions, you took a seat in the snow. “Do you remember how we met?” you began.

Techno was surprised by your question, answering quietly. “Of course. I, uh, kidnapped you. Sorry for that,” he mumbled.

Letting out a soft laugh, you continued. “Right. But I’ve been remembering more, actually. It used to be fuzzy—it still is, sometimes, the details—but it’s easier to recall. I mainly remember the good things, but the gaps are starting to fill in.”

The man swallowed nervously. “So… Where are you going with this?”

Your eyes became downcast. “I’ve realized a lot of things. I can sort through my emotions now and it’s been weighing on me just how much you meant to me, how much you still mean to me—and I know you must feel the same way.

“I can remember so much of my life now. I remember feeling some bit of relief when you captured me because I didn’t have to be with Dream—I was free for the first time in my life, and I didn’t even know it. I remember the training, the battles, the betrayals, the exile, but more than anything, I remember you. It’s like a part of me was missing for so long before I met you, and I had grown used to it. I tried to fill it with other things, with other people, but that space was made for you. Once I had you, I was balanced—I had spent the first half of my life trying to find you, so I couldn’t stand to be away from you. I had to have you, always, filling the gap. It seemed wrong to live any other way.

“I can see now where the fault was in my logic. You told me the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, right? A pair of lovers are separated when Eurydice dies, stranded to the Underworld. Orpheus travels to her and all he has to do to bring her back to the living realm is to walk the path to earth without looking behind him to see her. They reach the end, and at the last second, Orpheus looks back. His love is fated to death, and he must live on without her, singing a sorrowful tune to the earth. When I first heard that story, I couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. I thought it was from a sense of doubt, or maybe he was just a fool, but now I know better. Orpheus wasn’t looking back because he was doubtful—he knew exactly what the consequences were. He looked back because he couldn’t accept her death once, but this time, he could do it. That’s the hidden truth that no one ever tells you: love is letting go.”

You turned your head to look Techno in the eyes. “Do you remember what I told you before I tried to kill Dream?”

The man nodded slowly. “You told me not to look back,” he breathed.

Nodding, you spoke again. “Exactly. Now, I need you to listen to me again,” you asked. “I need you to look back.”

Techno’s eyes became misty. “I don’t—I don’t think I know how,” he admitted.

“Neither did Orpheus,” you explained, taking the larger man’s hands in yours. “He lived the rest of his life mourning Eurydice through his music, but look at the world now. Don’t you see how beautiful it is? He sacrificed everything to see this. Orpheus did the hardest thing he could possibly do because it was the right thing.”

“What about the gaps?” Techno wondered. “How am I supposed to fill the gap without you?”

Looking down at the calloused hands in yours, you shook your head. “There’s always going to be pieces of you that can never be replaced—they’re not meant to be filled with something else. But there will be other things to love, other things to care about, and that’s how you move on. You pick up what’s left of your heart and put it back together as you go.”

The man looked at you, sorrow and adoration pooling in his eyes. “Will you stay? Will you be there when I carry myself back?” He asked, his voice small and trembling with apprehension.

Your cold hands were firm in his. “Always.”

In the west, the sun sank lower over the edge of the earth. The light grew fainter as orange, magenta, and hints of violet eased their way into the sky above. Clouds stretched on lazily, dragging against the atmosphere like heavy brush strokes on a canvas. Techno tugged on your hand when you got lost in the view. “We should head back before it gets too dark,” he said. You nodded and followed him through the snow, guided by the tracks you left from earlier. It would take him time, you were sure of that, and he would struggle as he always did when it came to his feelings. And you would be by his side, even then.

* * * * *

“I’m thinking of making it bigger, maybe add some glass panes to the top. What do you think?” Ranboo wondered, showing you the plans for his new house.

“Hm… No glass, just the stone here and there,” you replied, pointing at the drawings he laid out in front of you.

Ranboo was still living near Techno, sprucing up his old shed of a house into something more permanent. The tall boy stood proudly in front of his land, tugging at his coat. “Yeah, actually, that does sound nice.”

You knelt down behind Ranboo, scooping a handful of snow into your palm and carefully shaping it into a ball. “You know what else is nice?” You wondered innocently.

Ranboo responded absentmindedly with “Huh?”

With an evil grin, you shouted, “This!”

The snowball launched out of your hand as you threw it directly at the back of the half-enderman’s head. Ranboo jumped, shrieking in surprise as he wiped the back of his head. Spinning on his heel, he gave you a mischievous look before gathering snow in his own hands. “Oh, you’ve done it now,” he drawled, narrowly missing you as the snowball flew past your head. You took off into a run, laughing with your tall friend chasing behind you, snow flying left and right as you battled.

From his porch, Techno stood and watched the pair of you playing around, a faint smile on his face. He could see it now, more clearly than ever before: life, all around you, even in death. It was a strange irony, but an honest one. You were different than the person he once knew, but despite everything, your laugh never changed. Every version of you was real and true—you had simply taken a different shape.

The piglin turned to head back inside, but not before pausing as a spark of red caught his sight. There, standing alone at the corner of the stairs, was a bright red carnation. How it managed to grow in the cold, and so close to the cabin, was a mystery. Still, it was a rare beauty, strong in spite of the world it was born into. Techno looked from the flower back to you, an echo in his heart. You would be there—always.

The cabin door shut behind him, and there was no cold to follow.

#technoblade imagine #technoblade x reader #c: technoblade #dove writes #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt techno #mcytblr #techno imagine #techno x reader #c!techno x reader #c!techno imagine

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

Text

The Island | KTH (Two)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Hi everyone! Here’s ch2 of the new story, hope you guys like it. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni

Previous --- Next

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You don’t think you have ever been this bitter in your life—and you have a few things you can be bitter about. You could honestly make a list. But this? This is the ultimate bitterness and you hate it. It is driving you absolutely nuts! You’re alone with a man on an island…that’s lonely enough, right? Well, said man doesn’t even want to talk to you…that makes it ten—no, a million times more lonely. And you have every right to be bitter about that. So, yes maybe you are being a little petty when guys do interact.

It’s not like you are trying to purposely be petty, no, it’s not like that. You just can’t help your smart ass mouth or how childish you can become. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind completely though, he just has his own smart ass comments or he becomes childish himself. It’s a horrible mix! Neither of you win! And you always want to have the last word but with Taehyung as your opponent it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Okay, maybe a little less than fine. This company has got it all wrong! All. Fucking. Wrong. You two are barely getting along! It’s just eye roll after eye roll, smart ass comment after smart ass comment. That’s it. That’s the relationship. Taehyung barely spares you a glance throughout the day. You do your own thing and he does his. You won’t lie though…you are curious what he gets up to…the last week he has left the house and doesn’t come back until sunset…and he comes back sweaty and exhausted.

You want to ask what he does, you do, you really do. But something tells you he wouldn’t even tell you even if you begged. And you’re not about to beg for this asshole.

So, you guys keep to yourselves save the occasional breakfast/lunch/dinner run in. While he does god knows what, you have also been trying to keep yourself busy. You have recently learned to cook a couple meals, nothing too fancy but you feel proud. You play a lot of games, read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies.

But to put it simple—You’re bored. Fucking bored. You miss human interaction. You hate to say it but your food run ins are mostly on purpose at this point…you just want someone to chit chat with for a few moments even if its unpleasant conversation—because hey! At least it’s conversation.

You and Taehyung eat in silence after your little convo, he and you share strange eye contact…you call it strange because it’s more like he glares at you and you glare at him. Your eyes never leave one another. You feel like he’s trying to cast like, black magic on you, maybe something where if he glares enough you will burst into flames. You assume this because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Stop looking at me.” Taehyung finishes his last bite, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

“You stop looking at me.” You fire back and he sighs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why would I look at you?”

“Why would I look at you?” you mock, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and Taehyung squints at you.

“Oh yeah, real mature y/n.” His lips curl inward and he relaxes his arms at his sides as he stands from the table.

“I’m going to my room now.”

“You literally don’t have to announce everything you do.” You raise the bowl to your lips and drink back the leftover milk. You don’t want to look at Taehyung’s expression, you know you’re being ruder than usual. You’re just bitter. Yeah, pretty god damn bitter. You hear Taehyung release a long breath, and you’re starting to think he’s right, maybe you are a brat.

“Goodnight y/n.” he says much softer than you were expecting.

Yeah, maybe you are a brat.

~~~~~~

You’re snuggled up on the living room sofa, the TV plays some cartoon movie you found on the shelf (obviously one of his picks). The movie is on a low volume as you have a book in your hands. You just started it this morning and you have not put it down, it’s called The Roommate, a funny and sexy novel. Too bad your own roommate is nowhere near funny nor sexy. Okay, maybe he’s a little sexy. But his attitude is the opposite of sexy so therefore he isn’t sexy. Yeah, totally. Whatever you have to say to yourself, right? It’s evening now and you’re almost done with the book, you have hardly taken a break from reading. This reminds you of your last memories before the island…the night before you were…kidnapped. Yeah, kidnapped. That’s how you would describe it.

The night before you were like this…snuggled on your sofa in your parent’s house…

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard to—”

“Honey, relax.” Your dad cuts in. Your mom is going on and on again about how you still haven’t found another job.

“Relax? Our daughter suddenly left her job and moved back to town!” Your mother throws her hands up, “And she won’t even tell us why!”

You sit here, your knees to your chest as you read your book. You try your best to ignore your mother…you two have rarely ever seen eye to eye. If you told her why you “quit” your previous job and why you had to move back home she would probably find a way to blame you.

“She will tell us when she’s ready.” You hear your dad whisper to your mother. “Don’t push her, you know that makes it worse…”

You can’t help but nibble on your lips, starting to feel the anxiety build. You try to focus on the words on the pages in front of you but they’re beginning to become blurred.

“Oh what is she 5 years old? You treat her like a child! She’s an adult she can handle a little confrontation.”

Your eyes lose focus on the words in front of you, instead all you see is blurred vision thanks to the tears that try to visit.

“I’ll be going to sleep now.” You announce, closing your book and setting it on the end table next to the sofa. “Goodnight.” You grab your phone and stand from your place on the couch. Thankfully, your dad offers a soft ‘goodnight sweetie’ and your mom just nods her head.

You make your way down the hall to your bedroom, opening and closing the door quickly. You lean back on the bedroom door and sigh out, blinking away any tears that tried to appear. You won’t cry. Not again. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, startling you. You unlock your phone to see who messaged you when you see it lit up with a notification from him. You feel your whole world collapsing. Why the fuck is he messaging you?

You stare at your books pages, in deep thought as you recall your last night before the island. You don’t want to remember honestly. You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts when the side door opens in the kitchen. It’s Taehyung. He’s sweaty and clearly exhausted again…what the hell does he do outside for so many hours?

“Hi.” You say, looking up at him from your book. Wait. Why did you greet him?

“Hi…?” Taehyung is just as surprised as you are, with his wide eyes and open mouth. He scrunches his brows together as he eyes you. He gives you a small wave, confusion written all over his face as he begins walking through the entry way and heading upstairs.

You sit here embarrassed as hell. Why did you say hi? And why was your voice so high pitched? You turn red, redder than you probably can imagine. You drop your face in your book and groan, wishing you didn’t say something as simple as ‘hi’.

You have to remind yourself you two aren’t talking. That your roommate here at Casa de la Trapped, isn’t looking to become buddy buddy with you. Which sucks because you are human, you know, a social creature. What’s the harm in becoming friends? Sure you two banter, but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You just don’t get any bad vibes from him, in fact sometimes it seems like he’s forcing himself to be closed off.

You try to go back to your book when you hear a faint yelp from upstairs. Did Taehyung just kind of…scream? You sit here with your book, your ears in the direction of the stairs trying to listen for any indication that something is wrong. But it’s silent. You decide to go back to your book when you hear the noise of Taehyung running down the stairs. He is out of breath by the time he reaches you, standing next to the sofa.

You quite literally choke on your spit when you see him. This boy just don’t give a damn, huh? He’s standing here, trying his best to breathe evenly with nothing but a dark red towel hanging lowly around his hips. You gulp at the sight of him. You knew he probably had a nice body but you were not expecting this. His strong build surprises you, his soft, caramel skin glows even in this lighting and his muscles flex with every movement.

“Uh,” you begin, setting your book down again, “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Taehyung rushes to say, he sounds much different than usual. His voice is usually calm and deep but right now it’s panicked like a child.

“With what?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, I need you to take care of it.”

“You want me to kill a spider for you?”

“Kill?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chest, a shocked expression on his face. “All life is precious, y/n.” he pouts. “Just get it and take it outside.”

You tilt your head and try not to laugh as you look at him…he looks bothered, that’s for sure. But god, what a baby. Can’t even take care of a small bug by himself.

“Fine. Show me where it’s at.” You rise from the couch, pointing at the direction of the stairs.

“Yes, yes. I’ll lead the way!” Taehyung walks quickly. He makes his way upstairs with you following right behind him. He leads you into the bathroom when he brings back the shower curtain to show you the spider.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. “Where is it?”

Taehyung turns to face you, his face as white as a ghost.

“It was just here, I swear.”

You roll your eyes as you fight back a grin.

“Sure, Taehyung. Are you sure you weren’t just trying to show off your body?” you shamelessly drag your eyes down his body and he goes red.

“W-Why—why would I do that?” he murmurs out, “Plus, I am sure you’ve already imagined what I look like without clothes.” He recovers quickly, a smirk making its way on his face.

“Not likely.” You say nonchalantly. “Well, if there’s no bug—”

“Wait! You don’t expect me to use this shower still, do you?” He looks panicked again, like a small child.

“Uh, yes?”

“The spider could be lurking anywhere! Let me use your shower.” He suggests, loving his own idea. You on the other hand, do not love his idea.

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah.”

“y/n…” He whines, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You raise a brow, a small smirk creeping on your face. “Okay, have breakfast with me tomorrow. And you actually have to talk to me.”

“y/n…” he warns. “You know we shouldn’t do that.”

“And I want 5 facts about you.” You stand your ground, your hands on your hips as you speak. “And I’ll give you 3 about me.”

“How is that even fair?”

“I’m the rule maker here, Taehyung.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get used to it.”

Taehyung walks closer to you, his breaths reaching your skin.

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, “I definitely make the rules.” There’s a moment of strange tension as he stares down at you…then he’s speaking again. “If you only give 3 then I only give 3. That’s the deal.”

You stare up into his dark eyes and you struggle to swallow your own spit, he might only have a few inches over you but maybe they are a little intimidating.

“F-Fine. Use my shower.” You step out of his way and gesture towards your room. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.” You wink.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but this time it almost seemed playful and not overly dramatic. You don’t want to get your hopes up but when he’s not being closed off and frankly, rude, he’s really not that bad.

“Don’t get used to these types of deals.” Taehyung throws over his shoulder as he walks to your room. “Basically, don’t get used to me.” He says a little quieter, but you still hear him and you frown.

“Like, I would want to!” you yell out.

Taehyung does not want to leave this shower, ever. He’s almost kind of bitter that he let you have this room! You get the awesome rain shower and he’s stuck with some plain, basic shower head in the guest bathroom. He eyes all the different bottles that sit on the shelves inside the shower, these must be all the bottles you use in your real life, he thinks. He grabs the shampoo and opens it to sniff it. He’s never gotten close enough to you that he can smell your hair but man, this is what you smell like? Delicious. He squirts a generous amount of the shampoo in his palm with an evil glint in his eye and massages it into his scalp. Whoops, did he just use your shampoo? Oh well. He rinses his hair out and uses your conditioner as well, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses your body wash too! It smells divine and its making his skin so soft.

Taehyung just knows that him using your shit would bother you, he just gets that vibe. And he’s not sure why but riling you up is quite fun. Taehyung turns the water off and grabs his towel and starts drying off…he steps out on to the shower mat and eyes the room as he dries himself. He sees you organized all your lotions and whatever other products onto the sinks counter top, he sees how empty “his side” of the sink is. It previously held all his belongings that he had moved into his bathroom—the guest bathroom.

“Are you almost done in there?” He hears you knocking on the door. “I want to take a shower before bed!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whispers out, “Hold on!”

Taehyung wraps the towel around his hips again and goes towards the bathroom door, he stops to check himself out in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m all done, cry baby.” He rolls his eyes and you secretly hope they get stuck like that for how much he does it.

“Me, the cry baby? You wouldn’t even use your own show—”

“—anyway, bathroom is all yours.” He breezes past you, but stops before exiting the bedroom. “Um…” he turns around, “See you in the morning.” And then he’s walking out.

~~~~~~

You made eggs, bacon, pancakes, and have fresh fruit in a bowl all set up on the dining room table. For some reason you are too nervous to call out for Taehyung and let him know that breakfast is ready…you know, 30 minutes ago. You just patiently wait, sitting here tapping your fingers against the wooden table.

Another 20 minutes pass by when you hear faint footsteps from upstairs…he must now just be getting up, you think. You rush to reheat up some of the food before he makes his way downstairs. You set the bacon, eggs and pancakes back down on the table and make yourself busy like you haven’t just been waiting for almost an hour.

Taehyung finally walks through the kitchen, his face evident with sleep and his hair sticking out in all directions. He blinks at you lazily before his eyes widen in panic.

“B-Breakfast. I forgot—”

“It’s okay, I just finished.” You cut him off with a strained smile. “I see you like to sleep in.”

“Most days, yeah. Because I go to bed so late.” He admits sheepishly. Then he smirks. “Can that be fact number 1?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it? How gracious of you.” Taehyung takes a seat at the dining room table and he starts with grabbing two pancakes from the pile and setting them down on his plate.

“You cooked all of this?” He asks, surprised.

“No, the other people who live here did it.” You deadpan.

“Always a smart ass.” He says while pouring syrup all over his pancakes, “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right…” you make your way to the table and take a seat in front of him. You start with some pancakes as well, waiting for him to finish with the syrup so you can pour your own generous amount. He notices you waiting, his eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of half smile. He slides the syrup across the table and your hand goes out to grab it, your fingers touching his.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both get out at the same time. You stare at one another for another few seconds before Taehyung rolls his eyes,

“Big deal, our fingers touched. No need to get weird.” He chuckles, and you feel your heart feel all fucking weird.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “What’s fact number 2?”

Taehyung takes a bite of his pancakes and moans into the syrupy mess, his eyes finding yours again.

“Oh? You’re greedy for information.”

“I’m a little greedy.” You admit, “So?”

“Fact number 2…I’m almost 5’11.”

“So you’re 5’10. Just say you’re 5’10.”

“But I’m not just 5’10. Because I am almost 5’11.” He groans, “Can’t you just humor me here?”

“Okay Mister 5’11.” You laugh, “My fact number 2 is that I have one older sister.”

Taehyung nods his head, remembering the picture of you and some other girl that you looks a lot like you.

“I see.” He swallows his food, “So you’re the baby of your family?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He smirks at you, “You have that baby of the family vibe.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you give him a curious look and he looks at you like you can’t be serious.

“Because you’re…you know,” he gestures towards you with a knowing look and you scoff.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Brat.” He states simply. “Because you’re a brat.”

“Whatever.” You grab for some eggs and bacon, and Taehyung does the same.

“So, what’s fact number 3?” you ask, piling some eggs onto your plate.

“Already want the last fact? We are barely just eating.” Taehyung points out. He shovels some eggs onto his own plate once you are done, and sticks a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Greedy, remember?” you remind him with a smirk. “So?”

“I’m sure you already gathered this but…I’m an aspiring musician.”

“I figured you were…that, or an artist.”

“Art is just a really fun hobby for me.” He admits. He loves to paint but singing and making music is where his true passion lies.

“What’s your last fact?” he stuffs his face with another piece of bacon, you watch him as he eats the crispy meat.

“Umm…” you look up at the ceiling as you think, “I used to think I looked bad in sun glasses but then I got over that…so now I buy any cool, funky sunglasses I can find.”

“That’s a really random fact.” Taehyung chuckles, “I like cool, funky sunglasses too.”

“Wow, are you saying we actually have something in common?” you tease, bringing a forkful of eggs to your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says dryly. “Since we said all of our facts, I guess I can go now.”

“You’re not going to finish your food? Taehyung…” you place your hands on the table. “They’re not going to assume just because we are talking that we are falling in love for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t want to give them any ideas.” Taehyung says a bit harshly. Your face falls into a frown and you stand from the table.

“You can finish your food. I’ll leave.”

Taehyung blinks up at you and opens his mouth to say something but he remains quiet. You shake your head at him and walk off into the living room. If he wants to continue this “Little to no interaction” thing then so be it!

Taehyung sits here with his appetite lost. He holds his fork in his hand out in front of him and attempts to cut into his pancakes when he just gives up. He drops the fork onto the table and sighs out.

“y/n…” he calls out but you ignore him. “y/n!”

“Don’t talk to me.” You say with as much attitude you can muster and Taehyung silently mocks your words. He grabs his fork and aggressively cuts into his pancakes and takes a bite.

“Fine by me!” He yells out with his mouth full.

“You’re so annoying!” You groan and Taehyung silently mocks your words again but you can’t see him.

“And you’re a brat!” He says stuffing his mouth with another slice of pancake.

Great. For a moment there you thought you two could almost get along but he is set on this bullshit of not talking. You walk to the shelves in the living room and choose a new book, another romance novel. You take a seat on the couch, and curl up into a blanket. Taehyung can do whatever he wants! You’re going to enjoy your book and forget all about his annoying ass.

~~~~~~

Taehyung is finally dressed into some shorts and a sleeveless shirt as he makes his way out of the house. He is going to continue working on his little…project. You are probably wondering what he gets up to everyday, he thinks.

He is working on building a raft. He wants to escape this island but he doesn’t know how to build a fucking raft and this company didn’t necessarily give him the tools to escape. But he’s figuring it out. He is quite literally breaking tree branches and going from there. But it is taking time but apparently he has all the time in the world. 3 months? 6 months? A year or even more? He releases a long breath as he walks the path to where his “raft” is. If anything it’s just nice to get out of the house and breathe the island air. This whole thing kind of just gives him something to do and he knows this may not really work but he’s got to try. He’s a man of action after all.

He finally sees his “raft” chilling against a tree close to the beach and he walks up to it. Already feeling frustrated just looking at the pathetic thing. He has to make it big enough for two people…he isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t plan on escaping by himself, leaving you here.

He goes to his knees and holds it up, he feels his frustrations bubble over and he throws it to the ground. How the hell is he supposed to escape with this shitty thing?

He slams his eyes shut and sinks into the sand. He wants to go home. Things aren’t easy here…he can’t sleep. He is surprised he’s eating as much as he is, and he has mostly bad interactions with you. And he knows that it’s his fault. But he knows this is for the best but he can tell it’s not what you want. To be honest, this is actually really hard for him. He tries to come off as cold and closed off so you won’t take an interest in him but he’s dying! He wants to talk to you too! He is probably one of the most social of his friends! He has a lot of friends and he loves talking and hanging with them.

Taehyung feels his eyes become wet with hot tears and he grits he teeth together in irritation. He wishes he was home with his friends, with his family, with the girl he likes. He misses everyone so bad. He knows the night you two were “kidnapped” was the last day of the year, meaning they started this experiment January 1. He recalls his last few nights before the island…it was his birthday.

“No! I want him to open my present first!” Jimin whines and Taehyung can’t help the wide grin that adorns his face.

They’re all out at a bar, the music is loud and the alcohol is nonstop. Taehyung is surrounded by his closest friends, plus Hana—the girl Taehyung has been crushing on for the last year. She brought along a couple of her friends to this night out of celebration.

“He can open whoever’s he wants first…which is mine, right?” Jungkook hands Taehyung a box and Taehyung chuckles.

“Just for that, your two are going last.” Taehyung says, “How about I open Namjoon’s first since he planned this night?”

Namjoon gives the other two boys a cocky grin as he hands Taehyung a bag.

“Can I go after Namjoon?” Hana’s sweet voice is heard over the blaring music. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, her pink dress doing her a million favors. Not that she needs the favors, she’s always gorgeous.

“Y-Yeah.” Taehyung blushes, “But you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Really? You practically yelled at us when you thought we weren’t getting you anything.” Jimin playfully comments.

“Shut up dude.” Taehyung grits out, “Anyway, let’s see what Joonie got me.”

The night went on, the music got louder, the alcohol kept on coming. Taehyung is so happy. Everything is perfect. He doesn’t think anything can ruin his good mood.

“Want to dance with me?” Hana’s words leave her pretty, pink lips and Taehyung finds himself nodding yes before he can even register what she said. He would literally do anything she wanted.

“Then come.” She waves him over with her small, manicured hand.

Hana and Taehyung end up on the dance floor for quite some time…he’s too drunk to be nervous like he usually is. His large hands grip at her tiny waist as he brings her in closer, she lightly moans when she feels his hard body against her.

“We should talk.” Hana breathes out, “About us.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, panic starting to make its way into his body.

“What about us?”

Hana chuckles lightly, she goes on her tip toes and places a soft, sweet kiss against Taehyung’s lips.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She takes his hand and leads him outside the bar, out to a little patio. Taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he follows her outside…it’s not the first time they’ve kissed but he still can’t get used to it.

“You like me right?” she asks, pointing to herself. She’s got that sweet smile and Taehyung feels his nerves spiking.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out.

“Good. Because I like you too.” She admits, she closes her eyes for a moment, Taehyung spots the golden eye shadow that is painted over her lids. She opens her eyes again and he spots a sadness in them.

“But…” she begins and Taehyung feels his smile fade.

“But what?”

“No…it’s nothing.” She clears her throat, “You should take me on a date. And soon.” She giggles. Taehyung feels his smile grow and he nods his head.

“I would love to. We can—”

“Hey Tae!” Hobi’s voice cuts him off, “Yoongi says he just got off work and is on his way!!” He cheers happily. Taehyung turns to face Hobi and gives him a thumbs up before he’s spinning back around to Hana.

“Let’s go inside. We can discuss more on our date.” She smiles, taking his hand again.

“Sure.” Taehyung grins, his stomach doing a million flips. “Let’s go!”

Taehyung feels a few tears escape his closed eye lids as he sits in the sand. It’s too early to be in this state, Taehyung thinks. But alas, he can’t help it. He misses his life. This island put his life on complete hold. What if he’s stuck here for a year? Would Hana wait for him? It’s not like he’s expecting her to…but he thinks he would wait for her.

He stands to his feet, wiping his face of any leftover tears and he begins working for the day. He finds new trees with branches that would be easy to cut down and he resumes his little project. Hours and Hours go by and Taehyung is sitting on the beach’s sand and staring out at the water. He’s tired, he’s sweaty and he’s hungry.

Taehyung starts making his way back to the house now that the sun is setting. It’s pretty orange glow sets a relaxing mood and Taehyung feels grateful. He walks up to the side door that leads to the kitchen and watches you from the window. You look calm as usual and he feels himself feeling frustrated all over again…how are you so calm? He was having a meltdown on the beach earlier and here you are cooking dinner with a small smile on your face. He doesn’t understand you. Does this whole situation not bother you? No…he knows it has to bother you but how are you able to be so relaxed about it?

He opens the door and walks inside, startling you. You bring a hand to your heart when you see him but then visibly relax after a moment or two.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles lamely. And then he’s walking up the stairs leaving you to your lonesome.

~~~~~

Month: 1

It’s been a month. A whole month! It seems Taehyung has gotten even more distant with you…no major interactions since you two had breakfast together. He keeps his comments to you brief in passing and he barely makes eye contact. You’re fed up. You’re lonely. You need interaction and you can’t always cater to him! He can suck it up for once and do what you want.

Feeling brave, you give yourself a pep talk in your bathroom mirror. That’s right, you are going to just go for it! You are going to demand that he hang out with you. You fix your hair in the mirror and nod to yourself. Yeah, you got this. You exit your room and stroll down the hall to his bedroom, once you are standing in front of it you lean your head against the door, your ear lying flat against it as you try to listen for him. The room sounds pretty quiet…maybe he’s sleeping? No, no. You’re just trying to find an excuse not to do this, aren’t you? Ugh, pathetic.

You raise your fist up and begin knocking on his door. You’re left with silence…you’re being ignored. So you knock again. And again. And ag—

“What?!” Taehyung swings open the door, revealing that he was indeed maybe sleeping. His hair is doing that funny thing where it sticks out in every direction and his eyes are barely open.

“This better be important.” He huffs out.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You feel kind of bad you interrupted his nap…but you got to stay strong.

“Please hang out with me.” You blurt out.

“Huh?” Taehyung looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Not happening.” He quickly says.

“Just play a game with me, or maybe we could watch that movie…”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.” He raises his voice just the slightest and you flinch.

“Yeah? You think I want to do things with you? Like you specifically? Hell no! But I just want to do something damn it!” you flail your arms up, and breathe out heavily. “I am so fucking tired of always being by myself, it’s literally driving me insane.” You admit, you look off to the side as tears threaten to wet your eyes. “I am alone every single day. It has been a month, Taehyung? Did you know that? You’ve left me lonely for an entire month! I am going fucking crazy!” you bring your hands to your hips, “I have tried learning to cook all these god damn recipes as a way to distract myself but dude, I don’t even like cooking. I read all day too…I have all these imaginary book friends and that’s where I meet my social needs, isn’t that insane? Oh my god, I am going insane. And you?! How are you okay?!”

Taehyung is left speechless at your rant. He realizes that this loneliness is really getting to you…he admits he isn’t much better. But he kind of likes that you’re beginning to spiral. Is that mean?

“W-What game?” he juts out his bottom lip as his eyes slide to the side.

You stare at him with wide eyes as your chest heaves. You screw your eyes closed, and bring a hand to your head.

“What game?” you open your eyes to look at him, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What game y/n?”

You glare at him, huffing out deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“Mortal Kombat.” You spit out, “I really want to kick your ass.”

Your fingers work the buttons on the controller as you test out every god damn combo you can…and damn it is working because you are on fire.

“You could have warned me that you actually know how to play…” Taehyung pouts.

“You should have just taken my word for it, you loser.” You continue to kick his ass in the game, you are pretty good at pretending his character is actually him.

“One more game, y/n.” Taehyung begs, “I will beat you!”

“You haven’t won even one match, Taehyung. Just admit you suck.” You chuckle darkly.

You press a few more buttons until you see the word ‘Fatality’ grace your screen, you stand up in excitement yelling out your victory, you laugh like a god damn maniac and he can’t help but chuckle. Taehyung throws his controller to the ground and pouts dramatically.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You turn to face him, calming down.

“Nothing will heal this wound, y/n.” He states, throwing the sofa’s designated blanket over his body.

“How about we watch that movie you like so much?” you offer with a smile but Taehyung goes stiff at your question.

“I think we should just call it for the day…” he looks awkwardly to the side and you slump your shoulders.

“Oh…okay.”

“Listen…it’s not you—”

“Just stop.” You hold your hand up, “You want nothing to do with me, I get it.”

“y/n…” Taehyung looks down at his hands…he does feel bad. It’s not like he didn’t have fun with you just now. He just wishes this was all different.

“I’ll be in my room—”

“Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He cuts in.

“What?” you ask, completely off guard. “What?” you repeat.

“I said,” Taehyung breathes out, “Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He’s not just trying to be nice…he’s also, you know, hungry.

You hate yourself because you light up like the sun almost immediately. You wish you were strong and you could tell him to fuck off but instead you become the god damn sun from how brightly you shine.

“Really?” you ask with the most hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” Taehyung laughs, “Really.”

“You mean…you want to actually spend time with me?” you ask bluntly.

“I guess you can put it that way if it makes you feel better.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s in that playful way you only ever get to see so often.

“It does make me feel better actually.”

“Well, then.” He stands up and motions his hand towards the kitchen. “Shall we?”

“Are you going to be annoying the whole time?” you ask, “Or will you be serious about learning?”

“God, woman.” He rolls his eyes again. “I hope I annoy the shit out of you.”

“Oh, you already do.” You gesture for him to go to the kitchen first.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Somehow I believe you.” This time it’s your turn for the dramatic eye roll. “Now come on.”

“Oh my god. You aren’t even listening!” you yell out over Taehyung’s nonstop humming and whistling.

“I truly believe cooking is like an art, you know?” he continues to whistle some made up tune, “These instructions are like…a guide but you can kind of do what you…” he makes a fist with his hand and shakes it in front of his face. “… you want.” He finishes. “Yeah, these are more like suggestions.”

“Can we please just follow the directions.” You deadpan. “I want this to taste the way it’s supposed to!”

“You’re no fun.” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Cooking should be fun.”

“Cooking is so we can eat.”

“These dumplings are going to taste fine, y/n.” He assures you with a grin.

“You say that but…” you look at his pile of failed dumplings. “But…” you show him with your hand the absolute mess he’s made.

“Your point?” He raises a single brow and you scoff. There’s no way he is serious, absolutely no way.

You notice Taehyung is staring at you, his eyes look everywhere but your eyes and you start to feel nervous under his gaze. He has one of those dark, intense gazes that you just can’t shake off your mind.

“What?” you finally ask. “Something on my face?” you joke.

“Actually, yes.” He blurts out. “So much flour.”

“Oh.” You start to turn red with embarrassment, “Where? Here?” you point to various spots on your face with a towel and he just shakes his head.

“No, there.” He points but you still miss it.

“Just clean it off me!”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please touch me.” Then your eyes expand in size. “Wait, that sounds wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind, y/n.” Taehyung shakes his head again, “You’re just all kinds of dirty.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You look at him with your flustered as hell face, your face is probably redder than ever and it feels so fucking hot.

“Here.” Taehyung grabs the towel from your hands and begins wiping your face clean. “Your face isn’t dirty anymore.” He pulls his hand back, “But your mind still is, huh?”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Will you just shut up?” he mocks how you usually would and you roll your eyes. Hard.

“Doesn’t feel good does it?” He teases, “Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Can we please just focus on this recipe?”

“Fine.” He breathes out, “Except I will ignore this recipe completely and do what I think my ancestors want me to do. They whisper in my ear that these need more garlic.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Okay, I get it, Taehyung.”

You reach behind you and untie your apron and place it on its hook by the pantry. You walk over to the dining room table and take a seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung quirks a brow as you rest your head on the table.

“Resting. Letting you do all the work. You can cook from now on. I give up.”

Taehyung shakes his pointer finger at you and walks your way.

“Oh no, no, no.” he grabs on to your arm and begins dragging you up. “This was your idea so we are cooking together.”

“Uh, actually this was your idea.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s mouth hangs open as he realizes how true that is. “Not one of my better ideas…” he admits.

“Oh? Do you usually have good ideas?” You make your snarky comment and Taehyung let’s go of your arm.

“Usually the best.” He says, a cocky smile making its way on his stupidly handsome face.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you don’t know me.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” You jab at him and he visibly deflates.

“You know 3 things about me actually.” He gives you a half smile.

“All I remember is that you’re almost 5’11.”

“Well, that one was the most important. So your head is in the right place.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize it because you didn’t say anything but his face is full of flour as well. You stare up at him and start to laugh. Taehyung looks at you, confused. An adorable pout forms on his lips as he begs you to tell him what’s so funny.

“Your face.” You point at him and his fingers go to touch his skin.

“Clean me.” He commands. “I cleaned you, it’s only fair.” He points out.

You nod your head and walk towards the counter to grab the towel, Taehyung follows closely behind you. You turn around quickly and your chest bumps into his.

“Oh sorry.” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I got too close.”

You nod lamely, but neither of you step back. Maybe expecting the other to do it? You decide to ignore that and you reach up to clean his face. He has flour everywhere. No joke. This dude is messy. You kind of laugh as you wipe his face clean, he can’t help but laugh too. His breath mingling with yours as you two giggle.

“We are kind of a mess.” He admits, his tone is soft—almost shy. You slow down the patting on his skin and you gaze into his eyes for a moment. They’re dark. They’re powerful. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment when Taehyung clears his throat and you bring your hand back down.

“There.” You say, “All done.”

“Should we finish cooking?” Taehyung grins down at you.

“I don’t know, what do your ancestors say?”

“They say you’re a smart ass.”

~~~~~~

“Do you think we could…we could do this again?” You and Taehyung are standing outside your bedroom door. Why did Taehyung walk you all the way to your door? The world may never know.

“Do what exactly?” he asks as he sways back and forth in front of you

“Play a game…or cook dinner…or you know just hang out.”

“Maybe… once a week we can play a game or watch a movie or something…” he gets out awkwardly.

“Wow, you’ll grace me with your presence once a week?” you roll your eyes, “How generous of you.”

“Listen…” Taehyung looks at you more seriously, “I know social contact is important for like, our mental health or whatever. But we shouldn’t push it.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?” Taehyung steps forward and you gulp.

“So unfair.” You whisper. Taehyung bows his head down, he feels like he is shrinking. Because you’re right, he is being totally unfair. But he thinks this is the right move, the smart move.

“Y/n…” he sighs, “I’m doing this so we can leave.”

“And what if your little strategy isn’t working? It’s been a month Taehyung.” You point out, “And we’re still here.”

“I know, I know. Jesus, woman.” He breathes out, his dark eyes finding yours. “Look, they will get bored with us.”

“How can you be so sure?” you step forward. “What if we aren’t boring to them?” you whisper, your eyes staying on his.

“That’s why we should interact as little as possible.”

“Taehyung. No offense. But do you really think I want to interact with you?” you spit out, “I just need something, anything. I just need someone.” You step closer, “And you happen to be the only person here.”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together as he looks down at you, a frown decorating his face. He…he doesn’t want to be hurt by that.

“Once a week y/n. That’s all I can offer you.” He steps closer to you, his feet bumping into yours, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

You tilt your head up and chuckle,

“I told you I’m greedy though.” Your eyes stay on his, his piercing gaze causing you to shudder but you don’t break contact and neither does he. He’s challenging you, you can feel it. His eyes begin to narrow as he stares down at you, you wonder what he is thinking. He sighs out, his breath hitting your face and you blink up at him. You’re about to say something, anything when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You mean to keep your eyes on his eyes, you really do but you don’t. You hate yourself for dropping your gaze down to his lips. He smirks as realization hits him.

“Goodnight y/n.” He says, his voice so deep and low it catches you off guard. Then he’s stepping away from you and heading towards his room, leaving you at your door. You release the longest, shakiest breath as you watch him disappear.

You open the door to your bedroom and walk inside, you wish you could yell out in frustration. You wish you could scream into your pillow and know for sure he can’t hear you. You wish you weren’t here.

You change into some sleep clothes and slide into bed. You pull the blanket up to your nose and kick your legs dramatically. This guy is so annoying! Why can’t he just not care and live life normally so you can be normal too! Listen, you aren’t fucking thrilled about this either. But you’re handling it a lot better than he is. Why is that…? Why are you handling this so well? Maybe it’s because your real life is a fucking mess and this truly is the vacation you needed. You know, you know how pathetic that sounds.

You close your eyes and try to sleep but memories of your real life keep hitting you. You hate this. You hate all of this. You’re lonely. You’re all alone. In this this life on the island but also in your real life. You’re so fucking alone. You feel tears prick your eyes and you let yourself quietly sob for who knows how long. You wish you had someone to lean on…just in general. But you lost all of your friends at work…you lost your boyfriend…you only have your parents and even they are fed up with you.

After crying tears after tears you decide you’re thirsty. You tip toe out of bed and make your way downstairs…the house is so quiet and dark. It’s relaxing and also depressing. You finally make it to the kitchen when you scream bloody murder. Sitting in the dark at the dining room table is Taehyung.

“Wow, y/n. It’s not next week yet.” He jokes. You quickly turn on the dining room light and look at him like he’s insane.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim loudly, “And why are you awake?”

“I have trouble sleeping…” he admits, he scratches the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “What about you?”

You step closer to the table and Taehyung’s eyes slightly expand. He notices your swollen eyes and puffy lips. Had you been crying?

“Hey…are you okay?” he whispers out, standing from his chair.

“Don’t act like you care so suddenly.” Your eyes slide to the side, “I’m fine.”

Taehyung looks down, guilt burying itself into his body. He looks up at you and tries to speak but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I just came down for some water.” You tell him. “That’s all.” You walk over to the fridge for the pitcher of cold water then you walk to the cabinet and try to grab a glass from the top shelf but you struggle. You huff out and close your eyes in frustration when you feel Taehyung’s chest on your back.

“I’ll grab it for you.” He says softly. He reaches for a glass and hands it to you, you take it from him and offer him a small thanks.

“See? That’s something only people who are almost 5’11 could do.” He teases and you look at him with a serious expression. You look down at your feet and sigh out before you let a giggle slip between your lips.

“Goodnight Taehyung.” You look up to study his face, and you see his smile fade.

“What?” you ask.

“Once a day.” He says. “We can hang out once a day. But that’s it.”

You feel your heart do something funny…you feel your tummy doing something weird too. You feel your entire chest get hit with a wave of….something.

“It’s fine, Taehyung.” You finally say after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to push you.”

“This isn’t for you.” He smiles, “I think I need the social contact too.”

“Well, no fucking duh.” You state with the roll of your eyes. “We can’t isolate ourselves…it’s so unhealthy.”

“I get it.” He breathes out, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after that until we’re out of this place.”

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days you and Taehyung play some games or watch a movie together, just doing at least one activity a day. Just like he said you two would. Admittingly you do feel better about this arrangement. Not talking at all was a pain in the ass and terribly lonely. Sometimes Taehyung will come to the living room and play a game by himself while you read, just sharing a space without really talking, even after he did his one activity with you. You hate to admit how much you like that he does that.

It’s not like you want to get to know him specifically…but you would like to sort of know the person you are living with…that makes sense, right? It’s not him! It’s just that he’s the only person here…and you want a friend. Yes, you can admit you want a friend. You aren’t going to fall in love with the dude…you just want someone to talk to and hang out with. God, is that such a crime? Plus, you’re in no place for love. If the company truly knows you, with their “research” and all then they should know you are not ready for any type of romantic relationship.

You lay here on the couch, your legs hung over the arm of it while you stare up at the ceiling. It’s hot out today and this house happens to come with a lovely pool. The ocean is scary so no beach for you…but pool? Yes. You lay here, wondering what Taehyung is up to. He went out again today like he usually does, you wonder if you can ask him about it now…now that you guys aren’t on total terrible terms. Nah, you will wait a little longer before you ask. Instead, you rise from the sofa and head upstairs to change into a swim suit.

You have a lot of options, to be honest. This place did not lack on the clothing items! You decide on a simple dark green bikini, you try it on and decide you like the way it looks. A lot actually. Have you lost some weight? You guess the lack of fast food options has made you a little slimmer, and the amount of fresh food that’s available here. Plus you started lightly working out in the home gym, sweating a storm.

You head back downstairs and go to the back where the absolutely lovely porch is located…it’s a whole wooden deck. With a glamorous pool in the center and a hot tub off to the side. You wish you really lived in a place like this—not here, specifically. (For obvious reasons) You shrug off the towel that’s wrapped protectively over your body and make your way to the pool. You don’t know what you’re being self-conscious for…Taehyung doesn’t usually come back until sunset and it’s barely the afternoon.

You dip your toes in the water first…it’s pretty chilly but you handle it, dipping your body further and further into the water. You shiver just a bit before dunking your head underneath, letting the water consume you. You stay underwater, opening your eyes and staring at the blue nothingness.

“I love you.” He says for the first time, making you float on air. You knew he was going to say it soon, you could feel it but you were not expecting it here.

You two are sitting at Cozy Coffee, your favorite place to relax and read and write. You are in the middle of writing a very intriguing sentence when your fingers stop typing in reaction to his confession.

“You what?” you ask, a small smile adorning your face. “You love me?”

“Yes.” He reaches for your hand across the table, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling.” You tease. “But I…”

“You don’t have to say it yet if you aren’t ready,” he squeezes your hand, “I can wait.”

“No!” you squeeze his hand back, “I…love you too.” You admit softly.

He brings his hand back, folding his hands together out in front of him and sighs out, his breaths escaping him softly.

“These past 6 months with you y/n…” he begins, “Have been the most wonderful.”

“They have been pretty nice, haven’t they?” you smirk. “Tell me your favorite part?”

“Any part where you’re naked, for sure.” He laughs and you gasp.

“Hey! Behave.” You warn with a smile and he keeps laughing.

“I’m serious, this is the best relationship I have ever had. You’re definitely the best girlfriend…all these other girls have been crazy.”

You frown at that, “Why crazy?”

“Ugh, you know how women can get.”

You don’t like the way he said that, you feel your smile twist into another frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because you aren’t like that. You’re different.”

You smile again, once again feeling special with his praise.

“Different how?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He half jokes. “I don’t know, you just are.”

The water is starting to sting your eyes as you continue to hold your breath, memories flooding you. This water isn’t the only thing trying to drown you. You finally squeeze your eyes shut and swim up to the surface, gasping for air once you reach it. You breathe out heavily as you try to catch a breath, your wet hair dripping down your just as wet face. You swim to the edge of the pool and lift yourself up on the ledge and sit with your legs still in the water.

Why do you have to think of him?

After an hour or so that passes and plenty of sun later you decide you’ve had enough of the day outside. You stand to your feet and grab your towel and dry off, draping the towel over your right arm. You’re still pretty wet you admit, but nothing crazy. You head for the house, walking through the back door. Once you enter the house the cool AC hits you, causing you to shiver but you decide a warm shower will solve this. You turn the corner in the hall to head upstairs when your body slams into another body. You run into Taehyung hard causing you to tumble over and fall on top of him.

Taehyung yelps out when he makes contact with you, his body falling to the hard tiled floor and he winces. You fall on top of him, your chest smooshing his face. Yeah, your boobs in his face. That’s what that fucking means. Your wet boobs in his sweaty face.

“What the hell?” Taehyung mumbles between your breasts, “Get off me.”

You’re quick to try to scramble off his body, your hands landing in all the wrong places as you try to lift yourself. He groans loudly when you make contact with his lower hips and his hands go to grab your wrists trying to stop you from moving around so much.

“Chill, chill.” He breathes out slowly, still holding on to your wrists. He makes his way out from beneath you and pulls you up by the wrists.

“I wasn’t this sweaty before you ran into me…” Taehyung observes, “How wet are you?”

“I wasn’t this wet until running into you. How fucking sweaty are you?!”

“Fair.” Taehyung says with a smirk, then he’s blinking at you. “You went swimming today?” he eyes you up and down and you immediately feel insecure under his intense gaze.

“Uh, yeah.” You take the towel that’s draped around your arm and go to cover yourself with it.

“Why are you getting shy now?” as sly smile draws itself on Taehyung’s face. “You didn’t seem this shy just a moment ago with your tits in my face?” he questions with a low voice.

“Oh my god, can we not bring that up?” you begin to blush and you hate yourself for it.

“Why not?”

“It was an accident first of all. There will never be a time again where my boobs are in your face.”

“Oh you’re making the company sad.” Taehyung pouts.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Taehyung laughs. His laughter dies down though when he shamelessly eyes you again.

“Green is my favorite color.” He says while walking past you and heading upstairs.

You stand here, embarrassed as fucking usual. Your whole body warming up and you don’t even feel that cold AC any longer. You breathe in and breathe out. Taehyung is not making this stay very easy, is he?

~~~~~~

Month: 2

“Don’t you use that blue shell!” You scream at the air around you, your eyes concentrating on the screen ahead.

Taehyung smirks, working his fingers on the controller. God, he can really move his fingers. Wait, why the hell would you think that?

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You are both totally immersed in your game, the finish line in sight. You jump to your feet in rushed excitement as the finish line is soon approaching. You need this win to tie with him on your ongoing competition in Mario Kart. You’re both oh so close, the anticipation rising. Like, honestly you might shit yourself. Taehyung also leaps to his feet, joining you at your side. Now you are both screaming at the screen, your throats will totally pay for this later. You are jumping up and down, yelling at one another , slamming your fingers on the controllers, harshly pressing down on the accelerator button. You can see it. Its literally right in front of you! AND you are ahead of him! The finish line! Your screams getting louder and louder…when…you are graced with a black screen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You yell in unison.

You turn to face Taehyung, the one you hate the most right now. Your eyes dark and your voice low.

“What did you do?”

“ME? I didn’t do anything!” He says accusingly.

“You must have! You knew I was going to win—”

“First of all, we don’t know that.” He cuts you off all matter of fact. So annoying.

You look at him incredulously.

“THAT’S IT! I’m going to strangle you!” Before you can take a step towards him to you know, kill him, the screen turns a bright white, catching your attention. Lucky dude. Your focus now on the screen, you look at it with your head tilted to the side. There are black letters at the top of the screen and you decide to read out loud whatever this caption says.

“Re…Request?” your eyes scan the word slowly. “Oh. Oh shit,” Your eyes go wide, you turn to face Taehyung, his expression mirroring your own. You had completely, like completely forgot about the ‘Requests’. It has been a couple months of silence so how could you not forget? You wonder if this company is finally ready to move …this…along. Whatever this is.

Only seconds pass before more black words appear on the screen. Your eyes stay on Taehyung though, too nervous to read what comes next.

Taehyung must realize you have no intention on reading anymore because he exhales deeply and faces the screen.

“Okay, here goes…” he begins, “The two subjects must…”

#bts #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst

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holden-caulfield · 3 years

Note

Hi! Hope everything is great with you! ❤️ are you taking requests now? I have an idea for a Draco x reader fic. If you want to write. It’s ok if you’re not feeling it or if you’re not taking request ☺️

I was thinking about plot with something like that the reader and Draco are always on each other and fighting, but secretly like each other. They fight to make the other to notice them or to interact. One day the reader borrows a book at the library and made some notes in it (even if she’s not supposed to, just a bad habit that she has). She just writes some thoughts or comments regarding the book or life in general. And then Draco borrows the same book after the reader and sees that there are notes in the book but don’t know who made it. He likes the notes and decided to write his own notes in the book. The reader borrows the book again and see the notes that Draco wrote. So maybe they go back and forth writing notes in the book or even change to another book. Then I don’t know about the plot only that they end up together and it is a fluff ending ❤️

Oh. God. This request was e v e r y t h i n g, i loved it so much, thank you lovely anon!🤧

Wouldn't You Like To Know

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: draco and reader hate each other but a common interest might change everything.

Warning: none :)

Word Count: 1207

Nothing could make you angrier than that slytherin prick, Draco Malfoy, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to loathe him. There was something just so intriguing, so intoxicating about the boy that made you forget about how much of a haughty twat he actually was.

He seemed to be always picking on you, always having to comment on your choice of clothing of the day or stating how 'immensely insufferable' you were. You obviously never backed down, taking every chance you got to talk with the slytherin, even if it was just to insult his incredibly unnatural, yet entrancing hair or his arrogant ways.

You hated the boy, but you couldn't ignore him. Even though you very much wanted to on certain occasions.

It was saturday, a moment to finally be able to relax a bit and forget about lessons for a while, but someone decided to importune you. It was way too early to engage in a full battle, so you saved your efforts, leaving him in the hallway with his clique and a snarky reply. He had a rather surprised look on his face at the lack of interaction, but you couldn't notice it.

You made your way to the library; it seemed to be the only place you could find solace in. Reading had always been a way to unwind for you, therefore it was no surprise that the library was exactly where you were headed.

You skimmed through the long shelves of books, stopping your finger on a very old-looking volume. You took it out carefully and found yourself a cozy spot in the library, near a window so that you could see the lovely morning unfolding.

It was a copy of your favourite book of all time and you could swear the vintage-like look of the tome was due only to your continuous readings. You loved that book, every time you read it feeling like the first time and successfully taking your mind off of whatever you were worried about.

You started reading it for the hundredth time, taking your time while doing so, and without even realizing it you were starting to underline certain sentences. The quill and ink in front of you on the desk seemed to be begging you to use them and that you did. You highlighted all of those phrases that struck something you, you wrote tiny notes near the words you found the most interesting and you realized that when it was too late. The damage had been done, so why stopping?

You kept reading for a long time, the sky visible through the windows changing vastly beside you until it was already past lunch-time. You closed the book lovingly and put it back where you found it, sure to be able to return later, and took off towards the great hall.

Unbeknownst to you, that was also someone else's favourite book because when you came back, more notes had been added. Tiny messages in the most elegant calligraphy you had ever seen were adorning the pages you had previously stained. What really surprised you was that most of those short lines were actually replies or simple comments to your own.

'This is my favourite line.'

'I'd argue that the best line is actually at the next page.'

'This passage, i will never get tired of reading it.'

'How could one get tired when it's the best piece of literature ever written?'

You were completely shocked but somehow your heart warmed at the gesture: a stranger liked your same exact book and took the time to reply to the silly comments of some heedless student, it sounded almost romantic.

You immediately took a quill with the intention to add more comments but froze as you dipped it in the ink. What were you going to write?

You stopped to think for a moment and the most obvious question came to mind, so you retrieved the quill from the inkwell and wrote onto the last page, the only blank one.

'Who are you?'

You let the ink dry and placed the book back in its place, planning to come back the next day and find an answer.

It was silly really, to be so excited just because a couple words exchanged with a stranger. It had no meaning either: said stranger might have had the same habit as you, writing in all the books they read, or maybe said stranger only found your comments funny and wanted to add their own.

Nevertheless you returned to the library the next morning, very early given the fact you hadn't really slept the previous night, excitement flowing freely in your veins and keeping you awake. You hurried to the chosen section and grasped the book, clutching it in your hands as you brought it with you towards your usual spot.

You opened the book and quickly browsed through the pages until the last one. A reply was there, but not the one you were expecting.

'Wouldn't you like to know...'

What now? You couldn't just keep writing there, you couldn't just change book and keep on writing on every single volume in the library...

Defeated, you stood up, book opened in your hands as you walked through the library you knew by heart, trying to decipher who your mysterious correspondent could be.

"You?!" your eyes shot up from the book to meet his grey ones, Draco Malfoy.

"What? Can't even visit the library now?" you replied, eyebrows raised. You noticed he was oddly eyeing your book and slowly closed it.

"Why do you have that book?" he asked again, almost ignoring you with his eyes still set on the tome.

"I was reading it? That's what i usually do with books, you know."

"Are you sure? Because i have a feeling you write in them." your displeased frown soon turned into one of stupor.

"You?!" he nodded, smirking; for the first time you noticed a tinge of genuineness in his smug grin and the thought that maybe, just maybe Draco Malfoy wasn't the bully everyone thought passed through your mind.

You didn't know what to say and apparently neither did he for you both remained still and silent, staring in each other's eyes. It wasn't awkward: you looked into his grey orbs with longing, as if you had always known he could have been what you wanted and finally were able to see this side of him, the side of him you were in love with even if you didn't know it existed.

He cleared his throat then, making you focus back on reality.

"Although i enjoy the library, i think we should find a different place to talk about... this." he motioned to the book and your dreams completely shattered. He was probably not pleased with the discovery, one of the students he hated most exchanging notes with him. "Maybe at hogsmeade, tomorrow, at 8?"

"You don't hate me?" as relief washed over you, surprise did too.

"Not really, i actually quite like you, but i thought you hated me so i played along." you smiled at the unexpected confession and he furrowed his brows. "So, is that a yes? Because i can go back to hating you if not and forget everything."

You chuckled lightly, rolling your eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know, Malfoy..."

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @90smalfoy @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @macheregrace @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23 @saayanaaa @xlauren-malfoyx @riddleswh0r3crux

[if your name is crossed out, check your privacy settings!]

#draco malfoy #fanfiction #harry potter #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #fanfic #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n

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divinerulerluvr · 3 years

Text

Let Me Violate You

Summary - in 1985 after taking some funny coke at a recording studio, she finds herself at the Cortez and meets Mr. James Patrick March only to meet her fate, as well

Warnings - smut (duh), bondage, coercion, murder, bondage, drugs, power kink, james is a dom per ush, idk its very dark dare i say

Words - 2.7k

Inspired by the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails ;)

- - -

The world was blurry as i stumbled into a random hotel in Downtown LA. I had been recording a new song at the studio just a few minutes away and the idiots i work with gave me some fucked up coke and now here i am, barely lucid and tripping out of my mind.

Leaning against the receptionist counter for support, i look up to the woman who reads a book. She peers at me over it, a certain look of disappointment in her eyes as she sets it down. “I-I would like a room,” i ask, blinking quickly.

“Fifteen dollars for the night,” she says flatly. I give her a twenty, too high to care about change. She smiles at me before standing up and grabbing a key from the wall and handing it to me. The key had a ‘64’ chain on it.

“Room sixty-four. Sixth floor,”

I nod before stumbling to the elevator, getting to the sixth floor, and walking through the halls until i got to room 64. Unlocking the door, i push it open and walk into the large suite. Going straight to the bed, i lay back on it with an exasperated sigh.

I am too high for this.

Staring at the ceiling that looks like it was twirling and twisting, i feel eyes on me. Sitting up, my eyes glance around the room. My eyes land on a man who stands at the end of the bed, a cigarette in his hand.

I jump, trying to confirm whether he was real or not with the state i was in. “W-Who are you?” i stutter nervously, my eyes wide with fear. The man smiles, drawing at his cigarette to build some sort of anticipation.

“I should be asking who are you? This is my suite,” he says in return, his voice coated with a thick 20’s accent. He was an attractive man. His dark hair was styled perfectly and in the dark of the room i could make out his sharp jawline and piercing eyes.

“I paid for this room,” i argue, confused to who this strange man is.

He grins a predatory and evil grin that made my stomach twist. “Would you like a drink?” he offers, ignoring the previous conflict. “I’d like you to get out of my room,” i bite back. He turns his back to me, pouring something into a glass.

Turning back to face me, he extends a glass of the drink to me. “No need to be so rude, darling,” he advises, his head tilted patronizingly. He takes a slow step towards me, his eyes dead on mine. Swallowing thickly, i accept the drink.

Suspiciously, i drink from the glass. The alcohol burned down my throat and the drugs already in me didn’t help. Finding it wasn’t poisoned, i chugged the rest of it down.

He sips from his own glass, his eyes never leaving mine. “Who are you?” i ask yet again. “James March,” he replies simply. I just nod, finding that i had this strange fuzzy feeling in my mouth.

I had already finished the drink he’d offered and it was too late to go back. I had jinxed the fact that it was drugged. Because i know what being drugged feels like.

Before i could do anything, i was out like a fucking light.

I woke up after god knows how long. I felt rope rubbing my wrists raw and rope that kept my feet tied to the bed. Panic fills me as i look around the room frantically. It was that James guy who fucking drugged me and fuck knows what he’s going to do to me.

I breathe out quietly, trying to calm myself as i pull at the ropes that keep my arms tied apart to either post of the bedframe. I was in a starfish position, rendering me completely helpless.

“You really should never take a drink from a stranger, my sweet Y/n,” i hear James’ voice say from beside me, startling me at his sudden appearance. “Fuck off. Let me go,” i complain, glaring up at him.

He chuckles, reaching his hand down and petting my hair. I recoil from his touch, my heart beating quicker than if i was on acid. He notices my reaction to his touch, a look of anger crossing his face right before he slaps me.

Not a playful smack, either. A real smack. It stung my cheek, a groan leaving my lips. He exhales sharply, his ominously black eyes glaring at me with disgust. “I think you forget who’s the one tied up and the one who did the tying,” he says, walking away from me.

I still fight against the ropes, my wrists burning like hell. I was lucky i was still clothed. But with this man, i wasn’t sure what he wanted from me.

“Why are you doing this?” i ask him, watching as he takes off his belt. My heart jumps, my thighs instinctually trying to push together but failing due to my position. He glances up at me as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“You were just so beautiful, dear. I had to have you for myself,” he says with a charismatic smile. His white button-down sits loosely on his shoulders, exposing his toned chest and abs to me. “That’s fucking creepy,” i scoff, watching his every move with precision.

He shrugs. “I think it’s romantic. When i’m done, you’ll never leave the confines of this hotel again,” he counters.

“Yeah right,” i mumble to myself, moving around on the bed still trying to free myself from the bonds keeping me at his mercy. He glares at me. “You have a horrible habit of talking back,” he points out, running his hand up my bare leg and playing with the hem of my skirt.

I swallow thickly, a dull heartbeat growing between my legs as his soft touch trails further up my leg and under my skirt. His hand cold but his touch was warm. Bunching up my skirt, his eyes fall onto my black panties.

“Maybe i should do something about it, hm?”

Keeping quiet, my cheeks burn in embarrassment as his eyes rake over my bare legs. He walks away from me, retrieving something from a drawer and coming back to me with it in hand. He presents a ball gag and i feel my breathing pick up.

Placing the pink plastic ball of the gag in my mouth, James buckles the strap around my head and i could feel myself lose every last ounce of power i had.

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a hand knife and placing it to the waistband of my skirt. In one fluid motion, he cuts it into two pieces and tears it off of me. He does the same to the top i wore, shredding it and discarding it carelessly.

His eyes fall on my now bare chest. I never wore bras. Softly, he runs his fingers over my breasts, enjoying how my skin breaks out into goosebumps at his feather-light touch. He runs his hand down my stomach, feeling how i pant with anticipation.

Cutting off my panties, i was completely exposed to him. He sees how wet i am, a proud smirk spreading on his lips. “I’ve barely even touched your pretty body yet, doll. And yet look at this,” he taunts, running his finger through my slick folds.

I whimper, my hips bucking back at the sensation of his touching me. He uses his free hand to hold down my hips, keeping me flat on the bed. “I thought you didn’t want this,” he teases, his eyes admiring my naked body.

Unable to speak, i just furrow my brows pathetically. He smiles, enjoying how mindless i look. He rubs slow and teasing circles over my clit, his touch gentle as he stimulates me.

Weak moans leave my lips but are ultimately silenced by the gag in my mouth. My legs tremble slightly as i occasionally jolt with pleasure. He was giving me the bare minimum but it felt so fucking good.

Spit falls from the corner of my mouth, my eyes watering with the pain of him only touching me lightly. I could see the bulge in his pants and i knew i was in for quite the night. Men like him didn’t like vanilla sex. I would know. I’m in a goddamn rock band and it’s the eighties.

His hand leaves between my legs and instead uses his already wet fingers to wipe the spit that had left my mouth. His dark eyes meet mine as he returns his hand to my pussy, this time pushing his middle finger into me.

I arch my back, my head pressed into the pillow i lay on as i feel his finger curl inside of me. Not caring, he pushes a second finger into me and starts an even rhythm of finger fucking me

My whimpers sound pathetic and tears fill my eyes. I beg internally for more pleasure. But i was unable to actually ask for it which i knew was his entire point. I was wetter than i’ve ever been before. His fingers were like heaven inside of me.

His palm every once in a while grazes my clit, making my body shudder from the brief stimulation. “Look at you. How pitiful you are,” he degrades, his eyes taking in the way my eyes water and how a squirm on the bed.

“Little girls like you need to be taught a lesson,” he clicks his tongue, his fingers slowing down from their rhythm before he pulls them out. I groan at the loss, my eyes locked on his. “They need to be put to good use, for once,”

I watch with doe eyes as he throws off his shirt and takes off his pants. He gets on top of me, staring at me like i was prey and he was a starving predator. “You look positively beautiful tied to my bed," he compliments, caressing my hot cheek.

“To be fair, it is also very beautiful to watch you squirm with pleasure, my pet,” he says with a grin, repositioning so he was kneeling between my legs. He runs his hand up my stomach, reaching my breasts and massaging them. Giving special attention to my sensitive nipples.

His clothed boner rubs against my sensitive pussy, making me want him even more. My hands pull against their restraints, causing the red marks on my wrist to hurt more. He sees this, noticing how raw my skin was. “You know better than that,” he tsks, trailing his hand down my body and running it along my leg.

I didn’t know how to convey to him that i wanted him to absolutely destroy me, so instead, i just push myself against him, grinding my hips against his clothed dick.

He smirks, pushing my hips flat against the bed to stop me. “Patience, my pet,” he warns, feeling every inch of my naked body with a tender and almost caring touch. My eyes fall shut in irritation, trying to just enjoy his teasing touches that continue to lead me on.

His hand runs up my thigh, following the curve of my body and stopping at my neck where he lightly wraps his hand around it. I whimper, knowing full well he could feel my pulse against his hand.

“Do you think you’ve earned the privilege of pleasure?” he questions, his eyes dark with lust. I nod rapidly, my pussy practically hurting due to the lack of stimulation. He smiles, tightening his grip on my neck so he’s squeezing the sides.

His hand leaves my neck and i watch as he pulls off his boxers. Getting excited, i let him pull me down to meet him, the ropes pulled tautly and rubbing on my ligature marks even more. The sting was damn near unbearable but the pain would soon be forgiven.

Without mercy, he pushes himself into me. I cry out, my pitiful cries muted by the gag. It hurt. Of course it did. I may have been wet, but his dick was too big to just pull that shit. My nails dig into my palms as he bottoms out in me, his tip pressed into my g-spot deliciously.

The tears in my eyes fall down my cheeks, causing black streaks to trace down my face in the trail of the tears. I pull my hips back a little, his dick hitting unmarked territory inside me. He places his hands on my hips, pulling them down even closer to him as a way to punish me.

The ropes were now extremely painful. He pulls his hips back and starts fucking me rough without warning and especially without care. The pain quickly blossomed into pleasure. His hands dig into the flesh of my hips as he holds me steady so he can use and abuse me.

His hair had fallen out of its pristine style. A curl falling in front of his face as his eyes took in my body as he destroyed it. Soft grunts and groans would leave his lips, his thrusting pace harsh and deep.

If there wasn’t a gag in my mouth, i’d be so fucking loud right now.

He uses one of his hands and slithers it up my body, dragging some of the spit on my face down my chin and neck. His eyes lock on mine, a sort of animalistic starvation in them. He felt so good that i thought i would cum right now.

I wanted to touch him. To run my hands down his back and pull his hair. But then again, i couldn’t. Because i was tied up. Powerless. I knew his game and i knew it well. But i also fucking love the game.

My walls contract around him and i can already predict his reaction. He clicks his tongue, slowing his hips just a bit as to pull me back from the edge of an orgasm. I groan, my eyes falling shut and my head laying back.

He reaches and grabs my neck, startling my eyes open. “I want you to watch me use you, darling,” he instructs. I have no choice but to obey. My eyes trail down his toned torso to where he fucks me roughly.

It was so hot. Watching him go in and out of me. My wetness coating my pussy and even his dick. How you could see how deep he was hitting inside me due to the way my stomach pushes out in sync with each snap of his hips.

My eyes water even more, making it hard to keep them open to watch the scene before me. “Be a good girl for me and listen to my instructions,” he comments, noticing how my blinks got longer with each close of my eyes.

I try my best, my eyes flicking up to meet his. His hand that was around my neck moves to my pussy, rubbing circles on my clit with his thumb. I shudder, my entire body writhing at the new sensation.

The pleasure got to the point where i couldn’t take it anymore.

I attempt to pull my hips back, my body overwhelmed with pleasure to the point where it is borderline painful. “Uh uh,” he hums, reaching his hand up and smacking my cheek hard enough to make the previous mark sting even more.

With a dull cry, i stop trying to resist and give up every last ounce of power i had left to him, letting my body go limp so he could have his way with me.

He uses this to his advantage, fucking me harder than before. My breasts bounce with each merciless thrust, my eyes rolled into the back of my head as the mix between his touch on my clit and how he fucks me brings me to an orgasm.

Surprisingly, he lets me have my orgasm. My ears ring and i can feel every single drop of blood that runs through my veins. All my senses were heightened as he fucks me through my orgasm. With my eyes closed, i feel a sharp pain in my chest.

I open my eyes to see he had stabbed me, a proud look on his face. I begin to bleed as he removes the knife from my chest. “Now you’ll be with me forever. Like i said,” he comments as i feel his cum fill me up.

He collapses on top of me, my blood coating his pale skin as i take my last breath.

And i was dead.

#james patrick march #plot twist #evan peters #what can you expect #hes crazy #and hot #fic #ahs #smut #obsessed with him #daily dose of james smut

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mypersonmyg · 3 years

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’)

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it

enjoy

- jazz

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth.

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart.

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse.

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you.

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain.

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life.

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you.

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore

‘You look like shit.’

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before.

The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once.

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured.

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally.

‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way.

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead.

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you.

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured.

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing.

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony.

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be.

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably.

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it.

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it.

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day.

There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities.

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about.

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye.

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’

‘Mmm?’

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter.

That was the problem.

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be.

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever?

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find.

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you?

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing.

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked.

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him.

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher.

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked.

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later.

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now.

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either.

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed.

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around.

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human.

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost.

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

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