#I still need to clutter up the floor and walls lol
Photo
Working on Hakim & Averys new bedroom!
Lol I refuse to change it again until they are teenagers so I am adding everything I can think of.
#caffeinatedcashews#latepost#*fenggp#Foss-Feng#TS4#ts4 legacy#ts4 gameplay#I still need to clutter up the floor and walls lol#feng#feng family#FengLegacy#Yes I throw shit everywhere until I place it where its going to go#*Fgen4
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PROWL HEADCANNONS
a/n: prowl on 'how he'd fall for you' headcannons because I’m bored and I love this war criminal to bits. (human gn.reader btw)
warnings : just me rambling about prowl. might make part two of this idk.
I feel like prowl wouldn’t be the type to seek out someone; the only reason he’ll fall in love with you ( or in his case, have an illogical, spur of the moment, chemical reaction) is because you’ve been working him long enough to understand how his mind works
you’re gonna have to be the calm type, smart enough to know he’s off his rockers — since you’re going to have to tolerate him, anyway
or dumb enoug you don’t know wtf’s going on half of the time and just,,,supports what he does — he keeps you around for that
either ways, you're only there because the high council needs someone to keep tabs on prowl. in case he gets bored and decides to scheme another conspiracy to overthrow the government
(an exaggerated bias, as he'd say)
dumb is like his emotional support golden retriever, and calm is also the same, except less rowdy and just stares into his soul when he fucks up. But he stares back though and you're not one to give up either (in the end he does)
(Trope dynamics of loud dumb x smart and internally seething calm x smart is what I’m thinking lol)
calm would be someone in the science field or in the medical field, sassy, knows a lot (because if you’re going to lose your shit, it’s likely you’re never going to win an argument against him so = logical sympathetic + done w/ his shit + I stick around bc I care )
and for dumb loud would be someone in his profession, like buddy buddy cop + someone that just tags along because, hey, you like pissing him off
‘in both cases, if he falls for you it’s either because (for internally seething calm) you’ve managed to sooth him down from another temper tantrum or understand how he feels, in a way.
[i]
it’s not his usual tantrum, he’s a lot more emotional today and you’re incredibly concerned. this is prowl of all people! what’s got him so worked up? he's the least logical when he thinks someone's about to betray him
you notice the whispers as you saunter along the halls, everyone passing their remarks about the earlier supposed argument between the autobot SIC and his commander
brother was going off on the walls of his office when you slip in, punching holes, flipping tables — lotsa tables — and datapads were strewn across the floor, stylus pens cluttering about. it’s a barren hell hole. more barren than clemency combined
all this you’re not so interested in, it’s a normal thing, a three to four stage process : you’ll listen as he rants. you’ll nod and slowly, not so subtly in his peripheral, coax him to sit on the couch as you fix up the place.
"His perception of justice is too idealistic!" He chuffs and you'd reply “Oh? Optimus is not taking your advice again? I thought he’s a lot more understanding…”
something like that
today, however,
The moment you slinked inside the room, swiftly locking the door, you're greeted with his back is turned, helm hunching over his taut shoulders
your gaze swivelled from the upturned tables to the mess around and it's only then you notice energon plinking down to the puddle on the floor then energon seeping from the crevices of his fist.
Your eyes find the similar smear on the wall, then to the glass shards of a fractured cup on the floor, glinting
he’s bleeding
your medical instincts take reign, voice soft with concern.
“prowl—“
“don’t touch me.” He reels away.
His vents are shuddering, a staticky sporadic bursts of chuffs. He’s not breathing well, much too fueled by his own anger, his optics dart around the place, unable to focus, jittery and restless.
he paces around the room, servos unable to still
you know that hopeless feeling. The desire to do something , anything, but rooted at the inability to do so purges all instincts
you inch closer, palms up placatingly, treading on a light rake of glass. “It’s alright. Breathe. think about your three senses—"
“I said don’t touch me.’’ his voice is louder, more defensive, the kind you see a lot given you're his partner and the fact not all his propositions weren't taken so well. you can guess that's what happened today, or an altercation he's taken a lot too personally.
"I won't. I just want to see your wound."
"Its nothing. I said leave." his door wings flare up, a prey cornered with no where to go, lashing out as its last primal instinct to survive
pity spools into your chest
"it's alright, prowl. It's just me." you're halfway close and he backs up against the wall. "Let's talk like we always do, hm? Talk to let out some steam. Talk about what happened this morning or we can talk about something else."
"you don't understand." his voice wavers off a little, still having that tinge of sharpness yet it's loosing it's edge. his optics fail to meet yours. It's lodged to your feet. somewhere there. he's never been this vulnerable
"I won't have to understand." You say, and your hand curls experimentally over his own, testing to see if he'd lash out
When he didn't you intertwine you hands with his, easing down the stress of his knuckles. "You don't have to tell me anything. Just let me see your hands. I'll leave after once I fix everything up."
A moment — a beat; he relents.
Or more accurately, he's reeled silent as you tow him to the couch, clutching an ivory medical kit in the other hand.
With his servos on your knee, you work delicately, picking the fractured shards from the crevices of his digits that were lodged deep into the cords
His expression doesn't betray much pain plaguing his face with the usual pinched, dour look as he gazes outside the window. Though, he tenses up when you'd come across a deeper wound
then something hard on your shoulder startled you. You blink when you feel the crook of his nose nestle your shoulder blades. he's never been this affectionate and while you prefer to assault him with all kinds of question, you chose not to
It's like handling a startled cat; you're afraid of overwhelming him in case he'd draw back again. So you follow along, leaning a bit back so he's neck is comfortable with the bend.
The white bandages were purged a purple mauve when you roll the fabric around his digits, tying the loose ends with a dainty little bow.
You fix up the kit, his head still on your shoulder and you were about to leave when something grasps your sleeves. It's a tight clutch, digits curling around the fabric.
Prowl's now staring at the ground, any emotion on his face is imperceptible. Later punctuated by a remark, soft yet demanding, he uttered :
"stay."
#prowl x reader#transformers#maccadam#transformers x reader#transformers idw#idw prowl#prowl#prowl idw x reader#idw prowl x reader#mtmte prowl
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glimpse of us (old concept) | jjk
→pairing: drummer!jk x reader
→rating/genre: m/18+ | was gonna be ex2l, smut, angst, fluff
→word count: 1k
→warnings: cursing, implied infidelity, jk smokes ciggys </3
→summary: You shouldn't have gone to the bar tonight, but you couldn't resist the urge to see Jungkook one last time.
→notes: ok so lmao !!! this is an early early concept of this fic. i wrote this before i even started my blog. i've turned glimpse of us into something COMPLETELY different, so this portion would've never seen the light of day. i sort of broke my ideas for this fic into other fics and wips (which u can probs tell if u've read my masterlist lol). but i found it in my drafts and thought it would be fun to share! and who knows... if u guys really like the concept kiki might consider making this into it's own thing (with a new name obvi). sorry if there’s typos !! tis was just a draft 💗
The static sound of muffled conversations was deafening. The low rumble of the blaring bass felt sharp against your spine as you leaned against the brick wall of the club. The cool night provided no relief to your burning skin. You inhale deeply, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.
What the fuck are you doing?
Shaky hands tug on the zipper of your shoulder bag, rummaging through the clutter until you find your phone.
11:45 p.m.
SAN still can’t believe u ditched me for shots w ur evil coworkers
SAN kidding lol have fun tonight babe
SAN call me when you get home so I know you’re safe
The sick feeling of guilt began bubbling in your stomach again. Especially when you unlocked your phone and were slapped in the face by your home screen. A picture of you and San at his cousin’s wedding last month.
The circumstances that led you to the bar tonight were questionable, to say the least. Sure, it was a decent place. The modern vibes lured in college students every weekend with the promise of live entertainment and a possible bathroom quicky afterward. You weren’t here for the ladder.
Friday nights were usually spent in the tub; soaking your sore body after a long week of catering to bridezillas and their overbearing mothers. Your boyfriend of three months, San, was currently at the campus library studying for finals. You should be too, however, you couldn’t resist the magnetic force that brought you here tonight. The pull personified as a post you stumbled upon while scrolling through your Instagram feed:
BTS LIVE. FRIDAY @9PM.
This was for closure. After tonight, you would purge your mind of the thing that held it captive for the past two years. You just needed to see the band one last time before you finally severed your connection to them, or more so, your connection with one specific member…
You shook your head, trying to erase your mind and focus on the task at hand; getting the fuck home. Your apartment wasn’t too far from your current location. Only about a ten-minute walk. But the heels you had been wearing all day fucking killed. Maybe that was your punishment.
You open the Uber app, but before you order yourself a ride, your screen stalls and fades to black.
“Fuck!” You whisper yell and stomp your black stiletto on the concrete. Very dramatic of you. In your defense, it had been a long, emotionally taxing, day. You wanted nothing more than to cry on your shower floor and send all your pent-up emotions down the drain. You pressed your palms into your eyes, head slumping down. The tears were already threatening to pour. This was a mistake.
You take another breath, trying to collect yourself. The oxygen gets caught in your throat when your momentary breakdown is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.
“Are you okay?”
As if the night couldn’t get any worse.
You turned your head to follow the sound, hoping the voice was a figment of your imagination. A cruel joke your mind was playing on you for coming here tonight.
It wasn’t.
Lifting your head and looking to the side, your eyes follow the sound.
Jungkook.
He’s sitting on the ground, back against the wall behind him. No regard for the gorgeous red fabric of his pants and matching jacket that his newfound success allowed him to afford. His head was tilted downward. The clicks of his lighter cut through the silent night air as he struggled to light the cigarette between his pink lips.
Although you’d never admit it, you had been keeping up with his social media accounts since the breakup. An entire two years ago. But nothing could’ve prepared you for when he took his seat behind the maroon drum set on the right side of the stage.
His once choppy bangs were now long and wavy, parted in the middle. You hadn’t noticed the undercut from your spot in the back of the crowd, watching him drum his heart out on stage. It was clear now, the downward angle of his head giving you a glimpse as his hair splayed over his eyes.
His chest was peeking out of the animal print blouse he was wearing. The old Jungkook would have never worn something so flashy.
Your Jungkook…
He had grown since the last time you saw him. That much was apparent. The gym selfies he frequently posted let you know he had taken on a new hobby. It was paying off too. His arms had filled out, bulging against the material of his coat. Nothing like the noodles you used to tease him for when you would watch him practice combos in his parents’ basement.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook spoke louder this time. The end of his sentence was cut off by a cough as he exhaled a puff of smoke. He had never been one to mind his own business. Always had something to say. A blessing and a curse. Currently, that quality of him you found endearing felt like a hex as he flipped the black strands out of his face, lifting his head in search of a reaction from the person ignoring him.
You didn’t miss the way his defined brows scrunched up in the middle when his eyes met yours.
Big and round. Still warm and innocent despite his progression from a boy to a man. The passage of time did nothing to diminish their light. All that passion. All that fire. They were the same eyes that haunted your mind, making your own well up with tears at the memory of them. The same eyes that you pretended you saw when you looked into San’s, hoping to get a glimpse of what was.
“__?”
You had no time to run. No time to craft an explanation as to why the fuck you were here. Frozen in place. You parted your glossed lips to speak, but nothing came out.
“__, what the fuck?” He didn’t sound angry. Didn’t look it either. Why would he be? Your break up was civil, a mutual decision. Your lives have become parallel. His band was taking off. You were busy with college. Your paths couldn’t intersect anymore.
He seemed more confused than anything.
#jeon jungkook#jungkook#bts jungkook#bts#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#jungkook fic#bts fic#bts fanfic#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#jungkook au#jungkook x oc#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#kpop#Kpop imagines#jungkook blurbs
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I Want You
Pairing: Ben Poindexter "Dex" x Reader
Summary: Dex comes home from a late shift at the FBI to find you sleeping on his side of the bed.
Genre: 18+ CONTENT. SMUT. This is literally pure smut lol. Read with caution and also wrap it before you tap it, this is FICTION lol.
A/N: IDK where this smut came from but this might be the dirtiest I've written LOL. Might be slightly out of character, but I imagine any "light-hearted" Dex I write is before the events of Season 3. There's also MILD angst and MILD fluff if you squint, but LOTS of smut LOL. Enjoy my Dex lovers, so glad I've found you all <3 also this is barely edited I literally just knocked this out
Words: 1.8k
Dex is working late tonight—later than usual. Later than he’d like to, knowing you were alone at his apartment, waiting for his arrival. He hoped tonight would’ve been an early night but as expected, to his dismay, the SWAT unit was called in for a job and there was no chance Dex would be able to get home to you before you fell asleep.
I’m sorry he texted you, the heavy feeling he always got when he knew he would be disappointing you They need us tonight.
It’s okay you replied, and Dex read it in your sing-song voice I’ll be here waiting. Wake me up for a kiss.
Dex’s mouth twitched in a smile as the elevator lifted him to his floor, where you were most definitely lying in his bed already, making a mess of his fitted sheets. The only clutter he allowed in his life was the mess made by you. He leaned against the wall of the elevator and sighed; he wouldn’t let his exhaustion get in the way of making sure he gave you a kiss goodnight.
His shoulders were sore from the job tonight, aches and pains all over his back. His bed was practically calling his name and you, the keeper of his comfort. When the elevator dinged, he sauntered to his apartment door and quietly opened it so as to not make any sound. He didn’t want the door opening to wake you—he wanted his lips to take care of that.
Dex places his keys carefully on the hook and shrugs his denim sherpa jacket off. He opens the door to his bedroom quietly and sighs in contentment as he sees you sleeping soundly. He rarely got good sleep, so it was satisfying to see you deeply in it. It helped him most of the time.
Not wanting to get in bed without cleaning himself of the night’s job, he stalks to the bathroom and shuts the door before turning the light on so it won’t wake you. After a five-minute hot shower and brushing his teeth, Dex throws on a thin white shirt and boxers and then opens the door again to find you sleeping soundly still.
He stays in the doorway, watching you sleep. He often did this for peace of mind. When his thoughts got too loud and he began to feel himself spiral, just your presence alone was enough to bring him down. Help him sleep. You always did. Your hair was sprawled on his pillow—you were sleeping on his side, as you always did when he came home late—and you held the covers close to your chest. You looked perfect. He almost didn’t want to wake you up and ruin this image of you, but he had to do what you requested.
Dex sits in the crook of space you left as you’re sleeping in a fetal position, legs close to your chest. The bed dips a little when he sits and he gently runs his fingers over the side of your face, caressing your skin carefully. It only takes him four times of doing this until you stir in your sleep.
“Dex,” your eyelids are heavy but you force them to open to see Dex’s soft expression looking down at you, a smile on his face. “You’re home.”
“I am,” Dex whispered. “You wanted me to wake you.”
“I know,” you reach up lazily and cup his cheek in the palm of your hand, thumb grazing just below his bottom lid. “Kiss me.”
Dex’s eyes are half closed as he leans down to meet your lips. When your lips finally touch, his eyes close, and the kiss consumes every fiber of his being. The noise that constantly buzzed in his head, for a moment, was silenced by your soft lips. His attention was drawn to your fingers twirling in his dirty blonde locks as you pulled him even closer. Dex opens his mouth and dashes his tongue on your bottom lip, a way to ask you to let him in. You open your mouth in return and let his tongue glide against yours as you breathe in his fresh scent.
“Come here,” you pull back and push the sheets off you for Dex to join.
“This is my side,” he jokes as he slides underneath, brings the covers over the both of you again and hovers his entire body over you. “Give it back.”
“Take it back,” you smirk, your haze of sleepiness fading as the weight of Dex on top of you energizes you. He’s just taken a shower—you can tell by the way his thin white shirt clings onto his hot, soft damp skin. His shirt is so thin you want to rip it apart to feel his warmth on yours. You just might by the way you’re gripping his collar.
Dex laughs, understanding your nudge. He pulls his shirt from the back and off him. It’s only then he realizes you’re already ahead of the game and completely naked in his bed.
“__…” your name falls from his lips as he feels your soft skin pressed into his bed. Dex runs his hands from your neck to your collarbone and stops there to kiss you between the crook of your shoulder. He leaves a trail of kisses along the length of your neck before kissing your lips again. If there’s anything he’s good at, it’s knowing exactly where to kiss you.
“Dex,” you sigh into his kisses and close your eyes. You find his strong hands and guide them to where you need to be touched most. You place the palms of his hands over your breasts and Dex gently kneads them as he pulls back from kissing you. It was a wonder how something so beautiful he was allowed to touch.
But something shifts in his demeanor. Something he knows you like. Without fail he kicks your legs apart so he’s fully over you now, pressing his hard cock between your legs. You take a shaky breath, feeling your arousal grow so much you need him sooner than later. You look up at Dex and he’s already staring down at you.
His eyes are as dark as the room but you can’t ignore the intense gaze he gives you—so intense you felt like he was pulling your soul out of your body and claiming it his. In a way, he already had it. You were all his. You swallow hard, never getting used to the way he looks at you like that, and reach up to grab him by his jaw to kiss you. Dex sucks on your lips and holds you by your waist. You find the band of his boxers and push them off.
“You want me?” That little voice of doubt Dex just can’t ignore comes through in this intimate moment, and he wants to kick himself for asking it. He asks as his lips trace the skin of your neck anyway, pausing to anticipate your reaction. You affirm him, like you always do.
“I want you, Dex,” you breathe, and Dex sighs in relief. He pulls back, a much softer gaze on you, but his eyes still so dark. “I love you.”
It’s those three words he pretends not to hear—pretends like they couldn’t save his life. But they do, they always do. And he’s brought back down to reality as he gently pushes your legs further. His cock is throbbing between his legs now but he won’t give either of you the sweet relief you need—not before he teases you just a bit.
Dex trails his fingers down your stomach and circles your clit gently with his thumb, watching your face for your reaction to his touch. Where do you like it? How does his thumb make you feel? A beautiful expression softly etches on your face that tells him you like what he’s doing. You want more.
Dex slides two fingers inside your warm wetness and it takes everything in him to bite back a moan. He clenches his jaw as he slowly pushes in and out with his fingers in your pussy, going deeper and deeper with each stroke. He curls his fingers to hit the spot you so desperately need to be touched. Goosebumps raise on his skin as he watches your face contort with pleasure.
“Dex,” you demand his name. “I want you.”
Dex slides his fingers out your pussy and cups the back of your neck with his hand to kiss you slowly—he needed this as much as you did. And without warning, Dex lines his cock with your warm pussy and slowly pushes himself inside you.
“Fuck,” you moan softly in his ear as his length stretches your tight pussy. Dex takes a deep breath as he settles inside you, caressing your neck and pushing even deeper. And then he starts to move slowly, pulling all the way out before harshly pushing back in. The bed begins to rock with every thrust he makes, every grunt he suppresses, and every moan you let out. You spread and wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper, feeling the tip of his cock touch your sweet spot inside. You’re completely soaking all over his hard cock, surely getting the bed wet. Dex had a way of fucking you so good it was hard to think of how to return the favor, but he loved to please you like this, he loved to be in charge of your pleasure. Dex pounds his cock into you slowly, feeling your tightness and wetness all over him, he focuses on your breathing to know when you’re about to come.
“__,” he whispers your name. “Say you want me.”
“I want you,” you whisper breathlessly, feeling yourself come all over his cock, the sounds of sex filling the space between you.
“Keep saying it,” Dex’s voice is hardly above a whisper as he feels himself almost come undone. His pushes his cock all the way inside you, earning a moan slip from your lips.
“I want you, Dex,” you say breathlessly, squeezing your pussy on his cock. “I want you. I want you. I want—“
Dex shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw as his final thrust coats your soft and warm pussy, filling you with his cum. He continues his pounding slowly with each last pump of cum he spills inside you and holds you close to his chest to keep you from shaking.
“It’s okay,” your chest is heaving, and your entire body is shaking. “I’m okay.”
Dex completely pulls out of you, and you feel the space he’s left—empty. Dex looks at you with concern, his heart pounding against his chest. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Dex,” you smile, pushing a sweaty strand of his hair back. “I’m more than okay.”
“Okay,” Dex nods, catching his breath finally.
When Dex gets up to fetch a towel from the bathroom, you wrap yourself in his sheets and claim his side of the bed as your own. When Dex comes back, he smiles to himself. He crawls into bed—into your side—and wraps his strong arms around you. He watches you fall asleep again and only lets himself nod off when he can’t fight sleep anymore.
#ben poindexter#benjamin poindexter#dex#ben poindexter x reader#benjamin poindexter x reader#bullseye#bullseye x reader#wilson bethel#wilson bethel x reader#daredevil#daredevil born again#bullseye smut#ben poindexter smut#benjamin poindexter smut
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Spider/arachnophobia trigger warning
(Particularly if you don't like venomous ones)
Seriously, there are photos of spiders below lol (one is dead, in the first picture, bc that's how I found it.)
I killed a live one on my wall last night, just five feet away from this dead one that I just found (I moved some stuff to dust, and THERE IT IS)
WILL THEY JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE
Yes, that's a brown recluse.
Yes, this house is infested with them.
I don't know if I was active on tumblr much in May of 2020, but I got bitten by one then, after managing to dodge a bite for a while, because one got on my bed - after I FINALLY got a bed that wasn't just a mattress on the floor - and I put my arm on my blanket and squished him. Felt a pinprick, glanced down, saw nothing, carried on. Stood up about 20 min later to pee, noticed a dead recluse on my blanket (pictured below, the exact one that bit me), checked my arm, and was like, "WELL FUCK."
Tried to ignore it, ended up at the doctor. Got on two different antibiotics. Didn't take. Got on two other antibiotics (one was a shot) and ended up at a plastic surgeon because it had gotten so bad and infected. :'(
Years of people telling me they weren't a big deal even if you do get bit... I didn't get the warning bite. I got the actual one. The one with necrosis. It still stings from time to time, it was hurting pretty bad last week actually.
The culprit btw:
Brown recluse aside, I really love spiders! I just wish these didn't love me and my spaces. I know it's the clutter of books... paper everywhere for them to hide in. It's wonderful. A haven. I hate it. I need to spray my room again. It always lasts two weeks and they're back.
It's a shame bc I had Angelica in the bathroom for months above the light fixtures, from a baby spider to a much bigger one. Unfortunately, food was scarce in winter, and despite attempting to put food in her web, it never took, and she died not long before Mercedes passed away. :'(
Angelica - I'm pretty sure - was a triangulate cobweb spider! Picture here, and you can see her sheddings to show her growth!
I love taking photos of the spiders that visit me or that I find outside or wherever else. And I rescue them out of the bathtub and such all the time lol
(And yes, look closely at the mama wolfie, she's carrying babies!)
btw please don't reply with wanting to kill them with fire or w/e, I get the notion, I do, but I do genuinely like them :(
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(you ship literati too? AAAAH you truly are the best) how bout an ASP/Fashionable Ppl Extended Universe sandbox?😁 say, Jess and Rory meet Joshy (he's looking into Truncheon,idk -depends on what you see his career path looking like- if he himself wants to publish smth or-) and his parents come up. or something along those lines?
(One does not ship Midge/Lenny and turn around and not ship Literati lol. Also I'm an ooooooooollllllllld Lit shipper. If you dig through ff.net you'll find some intensely ancient litfic)
How about a different thought, though.
Let's call this season 3 of GG
Jess hates it when Luke calls his name like that, because it means Jess has to do work. And it's not that Jess is work-averse. He just...
Hates Stars Hollow.
A lot.
"I just need you to take an order over to Maple," Luke tells him. "No big deal. Just take it over to 36 Maple."
Jess narrows his eyes. "Are you sure you don't mean 37 Maple?"
"Rory didn't order food," Luke tells him, amused. "Mrs. Schneider ordered food. Do not drop by Rory's place until after you deliver the food."
Jess gives an eyeroll, but he grabs the takeout bags and heads out.
At least the Schneiders are nice. They tip well, too. They're only here in the fall, though, September through November, and otherwise disappear for the rest of the year. They're good friends with Babette and Maury, and they certainly make town meetings interesting (not that Jess bothers with those normally. Still. Nothing quite like Mr. Schneider calling Taylor a "fucking twat" that one time, scandalizing everyone, except Mrs. Schneider, who had done her best to hold back laughter).
Their house on Maple is painted a darker blue than the Gilmore's place, but it's the same kind of bungalow-type, with a nice porch, and when Jess knocks on the door, Mrs. Schneider calls out from inside.
"It's open!"
Jess frowns. Usually one of them comes to the door. He awkwardly opens the door and steps in, greeted with a well-decorated front hall, the walls decorated with family photos and old show posters.
He hears someone struggling from a room off to his left, and he when turns, it's to find Mrs. Schneider pulling herself up off the floor.
"Whoa." He rushes forward, setting the takeout bags down, and helping her. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she assures him, looking a little winded, but otherwise okay. "Go figure that the second Lenny goes out of town for the day, I have a 'help I've fallen and I can't get up' moment." She gives him a sheepish smile and smooths out her dress. "Thank you."
"Sure," Jess says, grabbing the takeout bags again, noticing his surroundings for the first time.
The room is painted a tastefully light pink, and the walls are lined, again, with old photos and show posters. Mostly comedy shows.
Mostly those of Midge Maisel, world-famous comedienne.
Above a cluttered desk is a large print of a man with his back to the camera, cigarette in hand, lit up by the lights of a large stage.
It's a pretty famous image. Taken sometime in the sixties, and used in Rolling Stone Magazine and on posters, too.
Jess slowly turns back to the older woman, who has grabbed her cane. "Uh..."
Mrs. Schneider looks a little sheepish. "Yeah."
"Seriously?"
She shrugs.
"What are Midge Maisel and Lenny Bruce doing in Stars Hollow?!"
Mrs. Schneider laughs softly. "Bring those bags to the kitchen, and I'll tell you."
He does, following her slow movements through the first floor of the house, and he sets the bags down, helping her unload them.
"So. Back in the early eighties, Lenny fell off the wagon," she explains. "A combo of deep stress over trying to write a film script, and a few years hanging out with Richard Pryor. And after throwing his stupid ass into rehab, we decided that maybe getting out of the city for a little while wouldn't be the worst thing. Lenny's old buddy Maury was living here already, and he recommended we come check it out. So we stayed at the Dragonfly Inn - before Lorelai bought it - and we fell in love with this weird little town. So we bought a place, and we've spent a few months a year here ever since."
"And only Maury and Babette know you're...comedy legends."
"Lorelai knows," she tells him. "We had dinner at the Independence Inn one night when she was working there, and she recognized us immediately. But other than that?" she shrugs. "Mr. and Mrs. Schneider shop at Doose's and we do the Bid-a-Basket festival every year - which - Lenny hates, but plays along anyways, and we won the Dance-a-thon in 1990, though I'm pretty sure we almost died."
Jess stares at her. "Huh."
Mrs. Schneider shrugs again and smiles before turning to one of the kitchen drawers and pulling out money for the order. "I will give you way more money than this is all worth, if you promise not to tell anybody but that cute girlfriend of yours."
Jess nods as he accepts the cash. "Deal."
"Good boy."
#fic#au#tmmm#Midge/Lenny#Jess/Rory#Literati#Jess Mariano#Midge Maisel#The Schneiders of Stars Hollow#Gilmore Girls
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Trying to do more cleaning on my breaks to help make baby proofing the apartment as easy as possible and I managed to get a load of laundry put through without having to ask wifey for help carrying the basket! This is big for me even if it feels small. I haven't been able to do that since I was maybe 20? Going on a decade now give or take. My skin is crawling with static electricity, but I didn't faint, or fall, or hurt myself, or drop anything!
I'm still going to have to carry it back up, but I think I'll be able to manage that too.
My goal for today is at least 2 (preferrably 4) loads of laundry, and doing a maintenance clean on the bathroom to get it back to sparkling.
My goal for tomorrow is to have the bedroom 100% decluttered and swept.
My goal for Friday is to make sure all the dishes get washed (along with the drying rack, soap dish, and other accoutrement) and the kitchen counters get cleared and completely wiped down.
My goal for Saturday is to wash all the cabinets and appliances in the kitchen.
My goal for Sunday is to build the bedframe and get the bedroom to sparkling (sweep again, mop, clean the walls and baseboards, organize the dog toys, organize the shelves, "put away" the clean clothes, etc.) And to have wifey get the kitchen floor completely clear of anything but furniture so I can mop everything.
My goal for Monday is to do the actual baby proofing, figure out what needs to happen to protect Lil Lady and also protect our things FROM Lil Lady.
And then in the week to follow I'm just gonna go around washing walls, windows, baseboards, etc during my breaks until everything's shiny and gorgeous.
I know wifey'll help wherever she can, but honestly aside from dealing with the kitchen clutter (which I know I can't do) I'd rather she be able to focus on just maintaining my work behind me while she handles meals and dishes than have her help with any of the deep cleaning. I think not having to go back and redo my work will go a long way towards letting me get through it all.
Anyway, I think I've sat for long enough atm. I'm going to go ahead and go clean the bathroom now. The tub became a mop water dump so it's uhhhhhh bad. Right now. Probably gonna soak it in cleaner, scrub everything into a pile with the cleaning scrubber, then wipe it up with paper towels and soak the tub in cleaner again to get underneath the debris layer. Bathroom's gonna smell powerfully of grapefruit by the time I'm done lol. Also need to scrub the toilet and add a new cleaning tablet to the tank, as well as sweeping and mopping again. I think I might also advocate to wifey getting a new shower liner because ours is about a year old now and could do with replacing. For now I'll probably just soak it in water and cleaner in the tub between soaking rounds to get it decent again until we can replace it. I do kinda wish I could have a double layer of cloth curtain and liner, but that's for another day I suspect.
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I’m sleeeepy today. got a lot done this morning and early afternoon but then made the fatal mistake of crawling into bed and now it’s unclear if I’ll ever manage to get out again. mm okay let’s do a little house check-in.
LIBRARY: I am so happy with the library that I make a little audible sound of delight every time I walk past it… I love it so freaking much omg. I am having a lot of trouble deciding if I want to put a cozy oversized chair or beanbag in there or if I want to leave the floor area open. cozy chair is obviously tempting but I’m not sure I would actually hang out in there to read when I have lots of other comfy spaces to be and I kind of like the clean open look. I do want to get a rug in there to complete the room but I find online rug shopping to be the most maddening experience imaginable so I might put that off for a bit. I’m kinda thinking no chair and just a rug + maybe a small end table with a plant or a candle or a lamp on it to cover up that oddly placed electrical outlet a little bit. then I’ll maybe do a few more prints on the other walls but tbd. I started successfully cleaning paint off the ceiling today but want to let the walls dry/cure just a little longer before I mess with that.
LIVING ROOM: I need to just bite the bullet and splurge on a nice TV console—it’s the one thing that room is missing and then it will be perfect. oh I guess I also need to figure out the plant corner sitch like what do I want to have going on over there once I replace the temporary makeshift plant stands. and I do probably want to paint the walls a slightly calmer green at some point (there’s too much yellow in the one I picked I think) but I can’t face it now. very happy with everything else though!! could not love my giant sectional more it’s sooooo cozy.
KITCHEN: I made some small additions and improvements last week that really pulled that room together. the actual kitchen prep area is the only part I’m not crazy about—the cheap laminate counters just show absolutely everything and I’m still hurting a bit for storage space. considering getting a small island but can’t decide if it’ll make the space feel too cluttered. tbd but it’s not urgent.
HALF BATH: I want to paint you, half bath!!! and do something about your horrible ugly tile. but I’m not sure what color scheme I want yet. I think this will be a “spend months collecting Pinterest inspo” winter project. the half bath and utility closet (now library) were the most blah and featureless rooms in the house and now the library is my favorite, so I feel confident that I can effect a similar transformation in the hall bath given time.
HALLWAYS: looking good. very pleased with the planter wall and small art. downstairs hall could eventually have a bit more going for it but idk that’s not urgent.
DAYROOM: something about this room is not right and I don’t know what it is. the wall color is stunning and I love the colorful cabinet in there but the room lacks personality other than that and I don’t spend any time in there except when I’m working at my desk. which is a shame because it’s such a lovely big open room and it gets the best natural light in the house. I guess I just feel like I haven’t figured out its character yet you know? I wanted it to feel like a cozy writing space too but it feels like it’s wholly defined by my workstation (and by my blah feelings about work by extension). I wonder if a solution might be dividing up the space more intentionally—like figuring out how to use the couch or other furniture to create the feeling of two rooms within that one space, one for writing and one for work. hmmm. I must apply my mind to it.
BEDROOM: I’ve done very little here! I think I want a friends and family photos wall or one of those strings of photos clipped on. but I might also want a hockey/fandom corner lol so I can gaze upon My Guys and feel happy. like the dayroom it’s a bit of a “lots of space but not sure what the room’s personality is yet” situation. fine for now but definitely a winter project. paint will be the thing that transforms and defines it I think. very much considering painting it (or an accent wall) that dusty terracotta pink to warm up the space but that feels daring haha. we will see!
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(OOC) Because I still have interests in making Mari her restaurant, I've been looking into what goes into it a bit.
When I took Hitsu, Mari & Takashi to Chez Llama a couple nights ago, I took several screenshots for later as well as taking some mental notes.
Here's the first and second floor inside. I have it set to walls are half up- so when I show screenshots later in this post with walls fully up, it's going to look quite different.
Here- it looks rather okay and normal. The second floor is nothing more than a bathroom and a hallway/railing overseeing the first floor. And then it leads out to this:
This is also very simple, but there's nothing here.
I suppose you can add to it, if you wish. But as I placed my Chez Llama on a snowy plot- that remains snowy throughout the year, that would not be ideal.
Here are two more shots with the walls completely up. See how it looks so much more different? How it looks almost claustrophobic?
But after reading a thread on Reddit I'm noticing many things;
There's only tables for 12 people. There's 1 chef station. There's 2 ovens. There's 1 check-in station. There's 3 bars- 1 large, 2 small. There's a lot of seating area and I have no idea what all of that is for. I guess that's something I need to look into.
The bathroom upstairs, is designated male/female and is two stalls each.
The reason I feel it's claustrophobic is probably to reduce serving time. The closer the chef station is to the tables, the faster the dishes arrive to the table.
These are just some of the things I wanted to point out, that for myself I feel are more important and should get priority when building a restaurant in the Sims 4.
For example- in that thread, having tables for 50 customers and only having 1 or 2 chef's stations would cause a long waiting period to receive food to your table. Or having the chef stations be way in the back, behind clutter and obstacles. Or both.
I'm not sure yet how you set up hiring staff, how many of ___ staff you can hire, what hours and days of operation, putting together a menu, etc. That's more research I need to do 😅
I'll get there eventually. This is a work in progress and I want to do it right.
Edit:
After doing a bit more research I learned you can have up to 30 options in each menu section; Drinks, Appetizer, Main Course, Dessert.
You can also pick what outfits the staff wears, as well as the dress code to your restaurant.
You start out only able to hire 1 of each staff: Host, Waiter, Chef. But that will increase to 2 Chefs and 3 Waiters. I believe that increases even further with Perk Points, to an additional +1 Chef, and +2 Waiters.
Speaking of Perk Points, apparently these things can purchase a lot benefits, so you need to be involved with your restaurant a lot to earn them.
For me, I feel this is where my "Hours of Operation" come in. I could "go to work" when Hitsu is at work and Takashi is at school, and "close up" when Takashi gets home from school.
Things such as "Welcome" customers in to your restaurant will earn you Perk Points. There's a whole wheel for it when you click on a table. Setting a "Recommended Dish" is also one.
There's no real "Set Hours" option, just an Open/Close button.
This is barely scratching the surface, there's so much more and if you're interested like I am it's probably a good idea to go hunt down a Youtube video or something like I did. But I wanted to put some of it here in this post, lol.
I think the rest I'll try to figure out on my own as I go. (Don't be surprised if you see some in future posts! 😄🙃)
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Its bloggin about real life shit time!
Heres before and after pics of my floors.
We spent the last two days getting the actual floor done, and the rest of this week was getting my stuff out of the room in the first place.
Theres talk of repainting my walls while i still have my stuff out of the room, but that was literally brought up for the first time 30 minutes ago, so we might not?
Either way, ive still gotta spend a lot of time sorting through stuff as i put it all back the way i want it. I have a lot of clutter that needs to be either gotten rid of or reorganized.
Im gonna be busy for a while, i think. Also, my brother and i wanna go to the beach, so thats gonna be a whole day's delay. Im exhausted lol.
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I haven’t really had a chance yet to reflect on my thoughts after watching 6x02 (I did post a speculation that managed to get a few things right, lol), but I’ve been stewing over an observation I don’t believe I’ve seen discussed much elsewhere (if I missed anything, please direct me to it since I love reading others’ takes). I put my thoughts below the cut because (as usual) they’re kind of long.
(As always, I recognize that the writers are who they are and are almost assuredly not thinking about anything this deeply. I just enjoy speculating and analyzing things)
To me, the “haunted” apartment feels like it could potentially be read as a metaphor for Jughead’s mind/heart. He’s allowed Tabitha into this space, but it doesn’t really seem like she has full access, or that she even spends a lot of time there or feels completely at home. There were a few moments that led me to this conclusion.
Early on in the episode, when Tabitha confronts Jughead about withholding the fact that their new abode was the site of a murder-suicide, she asks why he didn't tell her “the truth.”
Jughead’s responds, “Because when you saw (the apartment), you fell in love with it.”
To me, it seems like he’s concealing aspects of himself from Tabitha, or that she’s not willing to look too closely because she’s fears what she might find. Or maybe (most likely), it’s a bit of both.
A similar theme is evident in the (slightly earlier) discovery of the secret nook/closet inside the apartment. Someone had effectively papered over it long ago, hiding it from sight. Inside, Tabitha and Jughead see many Scotch bottles cluttering the surfaces (”Isn’t that what you used to drink?” Tabitha asks). But now, instead of liquor, they each contain model ships. The bottles themselves are dusty, but the ships themselves are perfectly preserved. Much has already been said about the symbolism here (not exactly subtle there, Riverdale), so I’ll move on (although Tabitha referring to them repeatedly as Jughead’s “boats” was an interesting word choice).
The newly uncovered nook seems to “awaken” something in both Jughead and Tabitha. For Jughead, it manifests in the first real creative spark he’s had after years of battling writer’s block. It’s almost like the closet is a vault where he keeps his innermost self locked up or walled off. He’s now able to access and write down his thoughts and ideas while he’s in this space (I personally don’t believe this is due to the influence of “Sam the Ghost,” although it could perhaps be related to an entirely different type of “ghost” haunting our hero).
For Tabitha, however, the nook’s discovery causes her to spiral further into seething resentment, jealousy, and rage. This is later largely blamed on the “ghosts,” although any supposed “ghost” interference seemed very minimal to me, especially when compared to what Toni and Betty were dealing with in another storyline. Eventually, this all comes to a head in the now infamous and disquieting typewriter scene. That incident, in turn, leads to one of the saddest first “I love you’s” I’ve personally watched, with two dead-eyed people kneeling defeatedly on a debris-littered floor in lighting I wouldn’t exactly describe as auspicious. Again, much has already been said about this, so there’s no need to elaborate further.
But, for me, the worst moment actually comes after these scenes. Instead of talking through (or even giving name to) the very real and legitimate issues that triggered the meltdown (and there were many), Jughead and Tabitha apparently decide it’d be better to simply wall off the nook again. They do this despite believing the supposed “ghosts” vacated the apartment after the “I love you” exchange. They don’t clear out the remaining bottles and other items left inside, they just hide the evidence from their sight. But it’s all still there with them, lurking behind the walls. (However, the typewriter remains on the outside and is taped together and somehow functional in the next episode)
As they’re blocking off valuable square footage in their apartment, the pair has a depressing conversation in which Jughead remarks that love might just be “a series of tests.” While this notion isn’t entirely off-base, I’m not sure I’d consider “surviving” their first fight in the manner we were shown and told as worthy of passing any “test.”
Jughead then proceeds to say that he knows it’s “kind of bleak, but...”
Tabitha finishes his sentence with “...Kind of sweet.”
To me, that sentiment about sums up their relationship. They both deserve better (everyone deserves better than this).
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Lead Me Down Another Road (preview)
Word Count: 2975
I fell into a minor rabbit hole and stand before you now with a scrap from the Crèchemaster Anakin AU I'm working on. The full fic is a few thousand words longer than this (and will go up on ao3 within the week), but this is technically the original bit I'd planned on writing (and is thus self-contained enough that I'm comfortable posting it alone here. As a treat).
Hope y'all enjoy it and the glimpse of at least one of several Jedi OCs I've been having to come up with for this lol
Note: I'm using crèche-minder in place of crèchemaster because it fits a little better with how I've set up the role in the au -- the particulars of which will be explored in the full fic.
Anakin stood from where he’d sat among the younglings in Targon Clan when he caught sight of his master standing just inside the room, all ten pairs of eyes straying from their painting to watch him stretch. He grimaced briefly at the splotches of bright paint he could already see on his tunic and pants, but made it a point to smile at a scowling nautolan making a grab at his ankle. He shuffled back, just out of reach, and had to dodge another two pairs of eager, sticky fingers with a put-upon sigh that failed to fully mask his amusement. It was the same song and dance every time he was sent to Knight D’nali for crèche-duty, and he’d long gotten wise to the initiates’ tricks.
What made today’s game of Catch-the-Padawan novel was Obi-Wan’s presence hovering at the edges of Anakin’s focus. His master hadn’t come to collect him like this since his first few weeks, confident that Anakin would neither get lost on his way to and from the crèche, nor try to dodge his punishment after that awful first and final attempt. He shuddered at the memory even as he leaped nimbly over a pair of near-humans who’d thought to tackle him from behind. He laughed when they turned, eyes wide and betrayed for a moment before trying for a frontal attack.
He dodged, weaving between ten tiny, determined younglings — baiting them with the promise of his capture before stepping just out of reach once more — until he hit something solid from behind. He blinked, stunned for a second and sure that he’d had enough space still to maneuver around, only to yelp when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him off his feet with an ease that spoke of more than a little help from the Force.
“Master!” He groaned, his protest drowned out by mixed cheering and jeering from Targon Clan and their minder’s own loud laughter. Anakin shot Knight D’nali as much of a betrayed look as he could while caught, but the traitor only laughed harder. He huffed.
“Well,” Obi-Wan said, grinning and smug and just as much of a traitor as the kiffar knight, “it seems I’ve won a prize to take back with me. A whole padawan all for myself.” A chorus of “No’s” and groaning followed the statement, and Anakin, face warmer than it had been a minute ago, suddenly found the floor much more interesting than a gaggle of disappointed initiates. Obi-Wan, still being a traitor, only laughed.
“Alright, alright. Settle down now,” Knight D’nali interrupted, wading into the chaos so she stood between them and the younglings. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have other duties to attend to, and you little Jedi have a latemeal to prepare for.”
With only a mild amount of protest, the little ones acquiesced. In true, and still vaguely eerie to Anakin, Jedi fashion, they bowed in sync, calling out a discordant mix of goodbyes and thank yous. Anakin nodded in return, starting to wriggle in his master’s grip in a futile attempt to free himself. Obi-Wan held fast even after two of the younglings, a zabrak and the same nautolan who’d first tried to grab onto him, crept around Knight D’nali to hand him four sheets of flimsi splattered with a variety of bright, clashing paint.
He sighed, resigned to the embarrassment of being gifted their paintings under the too-amused gazes of both knights, and murmured a quiet “Thanks” that made the pair smile so wide he thought their faces might split. Their obvious happiness made something warm bubble up in his chest and his hand tingle where flimsi met skin. It was hardly the first time one of the younglings in any of the clans he frequented had given him something small like this to take back with him — he had a wall in his room dedicated to doodles and paintings and a corner set aside, free of his usual clutter, for knickknacks and crafts — but the shock and awe and tingling warmth it left in him never wore off.
Anakin’s gifts had never lied with children. His temper ran too hot and he never quite knew what to say to anyone his age, much less younger than him. It had, in fact, taken months of constant supervision, patience, and teaching from the crèche-minders who’d agreed to take on his crèche-duty punishments for him to build up any sort of rapport with the little ones under their care. It had been hard and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding, work even if it had been borne out of his master’s own frustrated desperation.
The arm around his waist squeezed briefly, and Anakin had to fight down yet another burning flush when he realized Obi-Wan had most likely noticed where his thoughts had wandered. He floundered for something to say or do, but settled for a heavy sigh that drew a brief chuckle from his master.
“I apologize again for stealing Anakin back so early, Knight D’nali,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could picture the apologetic smile on his face as he spoke.
“No need,” said Knight D’nali, smiling just enough that the wrinkles in her eyes and the upward pull of her cheeks distorted the two, bright red tattoos — one line the width of her thumb and the other no more than half a centimeter — cutting vertically down from hairline to jaw over her right eye. “I may be getting older, but I remember well enough how busy a padawan’s life can be.”
“You’re not that old,” Anakin groused and earned himself a huff from his master and a bark of laughter from Knight D’nali.
“That’s sweet of you padawan, but the gray in my hair tells another story. And not another word about it,” she said the second Anakin opened his mouth. “There’ll be no buttering up this old knight. I told you, if you’re back here in less than a week I will sit this clan down for a four-hour meditation at least. Force knows your master certainly won’t object.”
“Yes Knight D’nali,” he said in the dull tone every chastised padawan seemed to affect, much to Targon Clan’s delight if their stifled giggling was any indication. Knight D’nali simply nodded, satisfied. Obi-Wan, again, laughed.
“And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave now. Knight D’nali.” Obi-Wan bowed as well as he could with an armful of padawan still pinned against him. “Targon Clan.” He offered the still-giggling younglings a much shallower bow. “May the Force be with you,” he said, echoed only a moment after by Anakin, before turning on his heel and striding out into the hall.
Anakin wriggled again and said: “Master, you can put me down now.” Obi-Wan hummed but didn’t so much as slow down until Anakin huffed, rolled his eyes, and added an only somewhat petulant “Please.”
It took him a moment to find his balance when Obi-Wan suddenly let go, but soon enough he was keeping pace with his master, just shy of being at the knight’s side. They walked in silence, past the doors to other clans of exuberant younglings and down the almost confusing pattern of turns that made up the Temple’s Crèche. It was, he knew, meant to be confusing so that intruders would have a harder time reaching the Jedi’s most vulnerable members on the off chance they made it through the Temple, guards, and every Jedi in between. He also knew that Obi-Wan was purposefully leading him through the longest route rather than the faster shortcuts one of the other crèche-minders, a young pantoran knight he’d only met with a few times so far, had taught him.
They nodded at the pair of guards stationed at the Crèche’s primary entrance once they’d finally made it through, and again to any Jedi they passed along the main corridor. Anakin glanced curiously at his master when he led them not towards the dormitory or refectory, but instead toward the salles and meditation rooms. He pursed his lips, unsure if it was a good or bad sign.
The salles meant lightsaber practice — Anakin’s favorite — but he doubted they’d stop there. He had, after all, been in the crèche because he’d let his temper get the best of him again, and Obi-Wan had made a point of steering Anakin away from as many potentially aggressive outlets as he could until he was sure Anakin was cool-headed. That didn’t stop him, however, from reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, shiny and still new considering he’d only just built it less than half a year ago. The trip to Ilum had been terrifying and exciting in equal measure, just the two of them instead of waiting for the next crèche clan’s planned gathering. It still awed him sometimes, to brush the warm, steel cylinder and find it there or to sit and listen to his crystal’s song virtually anytime he wanted.
It was a scrap of undeniable proof that he was a Jedi. That, late-comer or not, he belonged here just as much as any other padawan or knight.
Obi-Wan slowed, looking back at Anakin with the kind of unbearably soft, caring smile that told him his master had probably felt where his thoughts had gone. He held an arm out and Anakin hesitated a moment at the familiar invitation, torn between embarrassed frustration and elation at being invited close in a fairly public space, before stepping up so he was beside rather than behind Obi-Wan. He stiffened when Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder, but relaxed before his master could even think about pulling away. Anakin pressed into his side, deciding that, right now, eleven-nearly-twelve wasn’t too old for the show of affection, and just about melted when Obi-Wan’s arm shifted to briefly squeeze his shoulder.
His vain hope for the salles was, of course, dashed as they walked passed to duck into one of the smaller, unoccupied meditation rooms. Despite not wanting to complain, Anakin couldn’t completely stifle a sigh as he took in the room: bland, small, and box-shaped, with a few colorful cushions laid out and more stacked against the walls with a few other types of seating for those who might need it. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and settling on an older-looking, dark blue cushion. Anakin breathed in, held it for a count of four, and breathed out in an effort to brace himself for the ensuing lecture or meditation he was sure to suffer. He picked up a red cushion from the far wall, calling it to his hands with the Force, and sat himself down in front of his master, close enough that their knees almost touched. Then, he waited.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started after they’d sat in silence for a few tranquil-bordering-on-nerve-wracking minutes, their slow, even breathing the only sound in the room. Anakin met his master’s gaze, shifting slightly as a small kernel of icy unease sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not in trouble, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled, still soft. Still caring. Anakin frowned.
“You don’t usually bring me here unless I am.”
“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He seemed to speak mostly to himself, brow furrowed and a wry twist to his lips, like he’d found something funny. Anakin cocked his head to one side, watching as Obi-Wan breathed deeply a few times like he was trying to center himself. Or, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, bracing himself. Anakin squirmed in place, hardly daring to breathe himself as the unease in his stomach grew a fraction larger. “I’ve been talking to a few of the crèche-minders you’ve been working with.” Anakin swallowed, thoughts flitting towards the many mistakes he’d made the last few months and especially at first. “They’ve given you rather glowing reviews if I do say so myself,” he said, a small but pleased curl in his lips. And Anakin—
Anakin blinked.
“Really?” he asked, and wished the question hadn’t come out quite so bewildered. His master grinned and Anakin swore there was pride gleaming somewhere in his eyes.
“Really. They’ve enjoyed having you there. Knight D’nali says you have an uncanny ability for distraction,” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin stuck his tongue out and earned himself a bark of laughter. “Master Benni,” he continued, sobering once more, “made an interesting suggestion when I spoke to him last week. I—” Obi-Wan stopped. Inhaled.
“Master?”
A fine tremor had started in Anakin’s hands at some point. Excitement at first, quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of nerves. He’d once thought, at first, that Tatooine would drown in rain the day Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t have a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. A nearly three-year partnership with the knight had broken the facade a bit by now, but the sight of Obi-Wan struggling to put his thoughts together unnerved Anakin even after his master smiled reassuringly, reaching forward to clasp one of Anakin’s hands between both of his.
“There are many paths to becoming a Jedi, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Guardians, Council members, diplomats, teachers … crèche-minders,” he said, emphasizing the last. Anakin’s breath caught, eyes wide as the implication sunk slowly in.
“Did— Did Master Benni,” Anakin started, strangled and halting. Obi-Wan nodded. “But—But I’m horrible with younglings! I’ve made so many mistakes. I—”
“You are learning, Anakin. No one expects you to be perfect at anything. Much less in dealing with younglings.” Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Floundered in his incomprehension until—
“Are you … Are you getting rid of me?” he asked, voice suddenly small and hurt. He turned his hand in Obi-Wan’s grip, wrapping his smaller fingers around his master’s wrist as if he would disappear from Anakin’s sight at any moment.
“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, one of his thumbs stroking the back of Anakin’s hand. “You are my padawan, Anakin, and I will never abandon you.” Obi-Wan paused there, earnest and scorching in his focus until Anakin nodded, more numb than anything else at the moment. Satisfied, his master continued: “But I do think that this is a good opportunity for you.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down to their hands and then back up, meeting Anakin’s once more, steady and confident and calm. “You’ve changed a little since you’ve been around the crèches. I can see a confidence in you that wasn’t there before, and better control. Not just with the Force, though I’ve no doubt entertaining younglings for hours has done wonders.” Anakin flushed, fuzzy warmth buzzing in his chest at the praise.
“You feel things — everything — so strongly, Anakin, and I fear I’ve not been able to help you much in that regard.”
Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Obi-Wan held a hand up for silence and settled for a quiet pout instead, much to his master’s amusement.
“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said with a nod, “and I do not doubt that you would learn a lot at my side alone. But I’m coming to realize where you might need more than I am able to give, not because I don’t want to. Force knows I’d do whatever I could to help you, Anakin, but there are simply things I won’t be able to understand. Haven’t been able to understand,” he added and Anakin frowned at the brief, bitter note he could pick out in his master’s tone. “Master Benni’s offer has as much to do with your potential as it does with your connection to both the initiates and their minders. I— We think it’s something you should consider, despite how it’s likely not the path you first envisioned for yourself.
“You will still be my padawan, always,” he said and squeezed Anakin’s hand to reinforce the sentiment, “but you would split your time between myself and a rotating number of the crèche’s minders under Master Benni’s supervision. You’ll be busy, and kept in the Temple more often than not even if I’m sent out on missions. It may cut into your classes or lightsaber training, in which case you’ll have to work harder to keep up, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”
Anakin nodded, mind whirling and thoughts spinning. There was more Obi-Wan wanted to say, he could tell, but Anakin was grateful for the lull granted to him to gather his thoughts.
“I—” Anakin swallowed, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. He held his master’s wrist a fraction tighter. “Can I think about it?” He winced at how his voice cracked, but Obi-Wan only nodded, smile still firmly in place.
“Of course. You don’t have to decide on anything until you’re ready. Master Benni made it quite clear to me that the offer is open to you whenever you wish to take it, whether that time is now or after you’ve been knighted.”
Anakin blinked, balking at the magnitude of not only the offer, but the old Master’s apparent faith in him, even as the buzzing warmth from earlier threatened to consume him fully now. He felt a fresh flush rise on his cheeks and a sheen of stinging tears prick at his eyes, held back by sheer force of will because he refused to waste the water just yet. Slowly, carefully, Obi-Wan squeezed his hand before leaning forward, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Anakin’s outer tunic. When he pulled, Anakin went as easily as he used to into his mother’s arms, overwhelmingly grateful for the contact just then.
“I’ll think about it, Master,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s robes, his face pressed into his master’s chest. “Thanks.”
Obi-Wan only hummed in response, tucking Anakin close and rubbing soothing circles into his back while Anakin clutched at him in return.
#star wars#anakin skywalker#obi-wan kenobi#crechemaster anakin#creche master anakin#my fanfic#i've been enamored with this au for the longest time lol#so i'm excited to finally be working on my own spin so to speak
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Hi!!!!!!!! I just love jealous RFA so what their (plus minor duo but only if it’s not too much) reaction would be if girl confessed and they thought it’d be for RFA but turns out it’s for MC? And I love your chibi drawings that’s so precious >~<
Ohho, aren’t you precious? I actually love this concept omg thank you so much for your request!! Sorry it took me a bit to get it written out ;;; - luna xx
warnings: none really? just a bit of jealousy and possessiveness haha
Zen:
• He’s literally so butt hurt
• He’s so used to admirers swarming the two of you to get his autograph or try to pine for his number
• While he gladly gives autographs for fans and even pictures, he always respectfully declined those who asked for his number
• He just loved seeing the slight tint of red on your cheeks when you got jealous and that’s why he wasn’t normally so forceful of telling other people no when they asked for his number
• Until one day you had went to go grab some water during one of Zen’s breaks at rehearsal
• One of his coworkers, a beautiful woman with long black hair and the perfect figure strolled up she reminded him a bit of Jumin honestly
• He was actually a little nervous to tell her no because he didn’t want to cause a scene but he would do it for you because he loves you
• So he begrudgingly held out his hand and she plops a piece of paper into it, a smirk on her face as he takes a deep breath
• “Look, I know that you and I work together but that doesn’t mean I’m available—”
• “Tell them that when they’re done with you, they should give me a call.”
• That’s when it clicks for him as he notices the way her dark eyes loom over your approaching figure, her tongue licking her lips as she winks at him then walks away
• He’s so infuriated that it hurts
• “Everything okay, Zen?”
• He rips the paper into so many pieces you didn’t even think that was possible
• “How about you go home, MC; I’ll tell you about it later.”
• You laughed for ages and teased him about it for weeks because, well
• “You’re not the only hot one in this relationship, Zen.”
Yoosung
• He’s always super bashful when girls in his class try to ask him out because he rarely finds himself attractive
• You were the same in a way; you were more confident than him, but still shy when people complimented you
• So while the two of you are on his campus, you holding flashcards in front of him to help him study
• You started to smile at a girl that approached the two of you, cheeks blazing pink as she stuttered over her words
• Her blue eyes were wide as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, looking as if she was taking deep breaths to calm herself
• “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve seen you both around for a while, and I just…well…”
• Yoosung turns just as pink, brows furrowing as he stutters over his words too
• “I appreciate it but I am taken!”
• For a moment the girl furrows her brows in confusion, adjusting the straps of her backpack as she tilts her head
• “Um…okay? Anyway, I think you’re really attractive and so; please accept my letter!”
• Both of your jaws drop as she kneels down and hands the letter towards you, hands trembling as you take it and nod
• “Aha, um…thank you?”
• She scurries off before you can even turn it over, and when you do you see your name written in beautiful penmanship surrounded by hearts
• Before you can even open it, Yoosung has snatched it out of your hands
• “Wha—Yoosung!”
• His purple eyes were clouded with anger as he rips it to shreds, an almost growl escaping his lips as he grunts
• “You’re mine. No need to read this letter when it’s gonna end up in the trash.”
• You couldn’t help but laugh at his possessiveness, tackling him in a hug and peppering his face with kisses as you shook your head.
• “What am I going to do with you?”
Jaehee
• She’s not the jealous type usually
• Like you can mention in passing that you were hit on and it won’t phase her a bit
• When it happens in front of her though? That’s a bit different;;;;
• Men tend to hit on the both of you often so that doesn’t phase her much but when it’s women?? Uh oh
• A really sweet woman was frequenting the bakery often; she would always get the same treat and the same drink, sitting at a table by the window
• She was quite pretty; short curly hair and tanned skin that had been specially kissed by the sun
• Jaehee was making the coffee for the next order when you’d gone to check on every table, stopping at hers and asking if she’d like another
• “No, thank you but…I was wondering. Would you like to go out for dinner some time?”
• Before you’d had a chance to respond you heard the sound of ceramic crashing, the mug Jaehee was holding now in pieces on the floor as she looked in your direction
• “Ah, while I’m flattered, I do have a girlfriend…;;;”
• The woman was understanding, putting two and two together as Jaehee rushed to pick up the mug and stomped into the back area
• “Jaehee! Jae, omg why are you so mad please—”
• “Because you’re my partner and how dare she think for a second that—”
• You interrupted her with a kiss and that shut her up quickly
• “You should be possessive more often. I actually like it…”
• “Shut up, MC.”
Jumin
• He has plenty of women in the business world that try to win his heart even though you’ve already done that lol
• So he’s actually quite surprised when you join him for a business meeting and he notices one of the women staring at you
• It’s so painfully obvious he’s actually offended that she isn’t hiding it
• She peers up at you through her bangs that frame her face, short hair styled perfectly as she leans back in her office chair
• Jumin couldn’t even focus and in minutes the meeting was over and she was instantly at your side
• “What?” He’s stunned, watching as she gently takes your hand in hers and kisses it
• “I’ve heard plenty about you, MC. While I’m sure Jumin appreciates you as a business asset, I would love to get to know you on a more personal level.”
• He is livid
• Before you can respond he’s wrapped an arm around you and snatched you away from her, a smirk on her face as he frowns at her
• “I’d appreciate if you let their hand go. We have business to tend to; at home. Come along, MC.”
• “Jumin oh—” He has you pressed so close to him that you can smell his cologne, your face flushed from embarrassment as she grins
• “It was nice meeting you!”
• Jumin scoffs as he escorts you out of the meeting room
• You’re shocked; he’s never lost control like that, not even when men would make passes at you during events or dinner parties
• “So, what was that?”
• “We will not be discussing this, MC. Now, would you like French, or Italian for lunch?”
• You grin as you get in the elevator with him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek
• “No matter what, Jumin. You’re the one for me.”
707
• He makes so many jokes about the women that fawn over him that he too his stunned when a woman confesses their love for you
• It was during an RFA party, and you’d worn a particularly flattering outfit that accentuated all the right places
• He was watching you from afar when he noticed a woman with equal beauty walk up to you, long blonde hair and brown eyes drinking you in as she slightly leaned against you
• “Oh, it looks like I’ve had too much to drink; maybe you’d like to take me home? I’ve been an admirer of yours for a while…”
• You’re so embarrassed that you don’t know what to say; a clutter of “ums” and “uhs” leaving your mouth as you tried to make sure she didn’t fall
• With you holding her up it gave her a chance to press against you even more so much so that you could feel and see most of her chest oh god Saeyoung help me
• “Oh~ I am also way too drunk and love showing off my boobs to make people like me!”
• You immediately drop the woman in shock when you see your boyfriend waltzing towards you in a dress, a long red wig swishing behind him as he lands on you
• It couldn’t be helped; you were laughing so hard that you nearly fell over, Saeyoung grinning as he sneered at the woman who looked at the two of you in confusion
• “Wait…what?”
• “Oh! I’m sorry miss um, but uh, this is my boyfriend—”
• “Who happily takes them home every night so if you’d please let us be that would be the most polite!” He says in a sing song voice, placing a hand on your chest as you snort
• You’d never seen a woman walk away so fast in your life
• “Good riddance…how classless.”
• “Saeyoung you literally put on a dress just to be petty.”
• “That’s different MC.”
V
• He receives admirers from all over who adore mainly his work; and it doubles when they realize how handsome the painter is
• During an exhibition he’d gathered a rather large crowd, mostly women which wasn’t surprising
• It didn’t bother you much; you trusted V, and he always made it clear that he was happy in his relationship with you to all of the women who tried to grow close to him
• You’d gone to a different section of the gallery to take a minute to yourself, staring at V’s painting of you that he’d done with a fond smile
• “While he is talented, he surely will never be able to capture the beauty of the real thing.”
• You turned your head in surprise to see a woman staring at you, red lips and sharp green eyes piercing as she held out a glass of champagne towards you
• “Oh, well um…thank you.”
• “Of course. I understand the appeal to him but…I like to think that his partner is much more enticing.”
• You couldn’t help but blush as you stared at your bubbling champagne
• Then, the familiar smell of lavender and cedar danced across your nose, your head turning to see V approaching
• “You’re absolutely right, miss. They are the most enticing, and that’s why I made them mine. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
• He plucks the champagne out of your hand and places it on the bench beside you, whisking you away while the woman pouts and hurries off
• “Um, V?”
• He hides the two of you in a dark hallway, closed off from the gallery as he presses you against the wall
• “I don’t know how you do this all the time MC; that was painful for me to see. Promise me that I’m the only one you’ll ever look at?”
• You giggle as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your forehead against his as you whisper
• “I promise. She’s no match for you, my love.”
• He seals the promise with a kiss, savoring your taste as he breathes out
• “Let’s just stay like this for a little longer…”
Saeran
• He’s so shy already that when he receives confessions from women he literally shuts down
• It’s even worse when women confess their love to you like what???
• He understands because he’s knows that you’re beautiful and that you’re such an amazing person
• But you’re also his like excuse me?
• You’re enjoying your lunch in the park that you always take once a week
• You were sketching in your journal while he explained the different plants you were seeing; it was one of your favorite pass times to do before it got too late
• The two of you were unaware that your sketching and laughter had gained the attention of another, who was working up the courage to confess
• She’d finally gained said courage, walking up with a brand new journal as she cleared her throat
• “Um…excuse me?”
• You both turned your eyes towards her, freckles dotting her shy face as she handed the book to you
• “I always see you drawing and, well, you’re really good. So I wanted you to have this.”
• You were shocked; such kindness from a stranger. But this was a gift you couldn’t accept.
• “Oh, thank you so much! But I can’t accept this, really because—”
• “Because I am their boyfriend.” You didn’t expect him to speak up, head snapping towards him in surprise
• He wasn’t angry just more apologetic; he’d experienced the same fear of rejection when he was pursuing you and he knew that what she was feeling wasn’t good
• “Oh, I see. Okay. Well, I’ll leave you two alone then.”
• She walked away dejected while he reached for your hand
• “I think I’ve just experienced jealousy and I didn’t like it much.”
• You giggled, resting your head in his lap as you looked at him
• “You handled it graciously, darling. Let’s enjoy the sun then head home.”
#headcanons#mystic messenger headcanons#zen#hyun ryu#mystic messenger zen#yoosung#yoosung kim#jaehee#jaehee kang#jumin#jumin han#saeyoung#saeyoung choi#luciel#luciel choi#707#v#jihyun kim#saeran#ray#unknown#saeran choi#SAEYOUNG'S LMFAO#HE LITERALLY WOULD DO THAT LIKE#I'M SO FUNNY HEJGOAJGE#sorry this took so long!#like I said i'm mentally ill GJKELAJGE#my writing
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let’s save the world
season two, episode three
five hargreeves x reader
summary: you find vanya and, once again, luther. you also start to question your feelings as others mention your relationship
trigger warnings: obliviousness, cursing, some violence (not really that bad, honestly lol)
word count: 3k
a/n: i know it’s taking forever, but we’re finally boarding the feelings train 😂
you sigh as you blink back into the apartment, seeing diego passed out on the couch with lila over him, fixing up a wound on his abdomen that you assumed he had gotten when he wasn’t in the building to help the both of you when five got pounced on by a baby monkey.
five looks at the man lying on the couch. “oh. he isn’t dead.” he notices, and you sigh softly as you grab a cloth.
lila looks up at the two of you as you hold the fabric over the scratches on the side of his neck, and you grimace as blood soaks through. “disappointed?” she questions, and you glance over to her.
“to see you? always.” he gives a sarcastic grin, and you see her shoulders slump slightly, seeming surprised.
“so much hostility in such a tiny package.” she comments and you grin slightly.
with a chuckle, you set the cloth down. “you’d be surprised. that’s not even the worst of it.” out of the corner of your eye you see him roll his eyes while you search some cabinets for a first aid kit.
“did you cut yourself shaving?” the woman questions, referring to the scratches. “you know, i could teach you to shave like a big boy.”
you can’t help your laugh, but you quickly cover your mouth to silence it when you find the kit, grabbing the antiseptic inside and dousing a clean part of the cloth. “just ran into a family friend.” five informs, glancing towards you, “is that really necessary?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at the wet cloth.
“if you don’t want it to get infected, yes.” you purse your lips as you press it to the still slightly bloody scratches.
you hear a sigh, “you two are so cute.” turning your head, you look at lila with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. she looks between both of you, “you are together, right?”
you’re both silent for a moment, and you’re frozen for a moment as you process the implication. “no.” you both state at the same time, and you finally tear your gaze away from her as you pull the rag away and throw it to the side onto one of the cluttered tables.
“really?” you’re stunned by how shocked she sounds. you give a slow nod, and she hums. “you guys totally act like a couple. like, it’s obvious how much you care about him.”
you don’t know what to say, so you stay quiet as you bite your cheek. you feel that your heartbeat had increased, and you felt like your skin was tingling with the heat you usually associated with your powers- but somehow it wasn’t the same.
you shake your head and turn when you hear someone snoring, seeing that elliott was still tied to the chair, and apparently he had calmed down quite a bit, considering he had fallen fast asleep.
five looks to lila with an eyebrow raised, “you didn’t untie him?”
her gaze flickers from diego’s wound to the man, before she looks at five. “was i supposed to?”
-
you lay on the floor, your hands resting over your stomach as your fingers slowly tap against your forearm. your gaze focused straight up onto the ceiling that had crumbled slightly from the shot it had taken. lost in thought, everything around you fell away as you repeated what lila had said in your head, over and over and over.
you guys totally act like a couple. like, it’s obvious how much you care about him.
your face scrunches up as you think over it, trying to understand what it meant. of course you care about him. he was your closest- and basically only- friend. how did caring about someone mean you had feelings for them?
you’re unable to come up with an answer to your own question, as one of the many screens that elliott sat in front of started to buzz, a red light flashing in time with the sound and shining onto his face.
“hey, we got one.” you quickly push yourself up from your spot on the floor as elliott speaks, rolling across the floor in his chair to another screen. “one of those machines you asked for is going crazy.”
you move behind him to look at the screen, and five comes rushing into the room to look as well. “which one?”
“the, uh, the atmospheric radar.” the man informs, and you watch as the dot to pin point the location of where it had found something pops up, five mumbling something under his breath. “i don’t get it,” elliott glances back at him for a second, “what are you tracking, a hurricane, storm front?”
“sound waves.” five tells him, and suddenly you understand what all of these machines are for. you hadn’t questioned it when five asked for all of them, as he was most definitely the smart one here and you knew you probably wouldn’t get what it was all for, but now, you got the need for them all.
vanya manipulates sound waves, and this was how you could find her. you smirk as elliott repeats what he said under his breath in amazement, grabbing for five’s hand blindly before the both of you blink away.
-
you had found the woman in the middle of a cornfield, which you didn’t appreciate, because in your search for her you had to push through plants taller than you as they smacked you in the face with their leaves.
it was great when you got out, the feeling that bigs had been crawling over your skin was gone. five decided it would be best to go somewhere and explain everything to vanya, as it seemed she didn’t remember much- or, anything, from before landing here. apparently she had lost her memory.
when he suggested you go to a diner or somewhere similar, you immediately lit up, suggesting the place you worked at up until a day or two ago. you had left some stuff in that old apartment that you needed to get anyways, so he easily agreed.
you practically beamed as you walked in, hearing a loud squeal as the door shut behind you. you’re crushed in a hug almost immediately, and you chuckle as stacy begins to ramble on about how much she missed you.
“it’s only been, like, two days.” you tell her with a grin as she finally pulls away, gripping onto your arms as she smiles brightly at you.
“so what?” she bounces on her toes, “i still missed you.” she glances behind her at five and vanya, who had already taken some stools at the counter, margaret pouring them some coffee. “you have to tell me all about the boy. he must be special if you’re willing to go off with him with no warning.”
you’re reminded of what lila had said at elliott’s and you have to stop yourself from drifting off into your thoughts again.
rolling your eyes, you pull her hands off of you, “he’s my friend, and he needed me. nothing special about it. i need to clean out my stuff from upstairs, so don’t say anything stupid, okay?”
she sighs dramatically, “alright, fine. i still don’t believe what you say about him, though.”
“whatever.” you grin as she reluctantly goes back to doing her job, and you wave to your former manager, who smiles at you before you head into the kitchen, towards the door in the back that lead to the staircase up to your apartment- what had been your apartment.
when you open the door, you look around with a soft sigh. you remembered the day margaret had taken you in clearly, as if it was a movie playing on a screen in front of you.
-
you pull off the uniform jacket that you had been wearing for the past week, tossing it into the dumpster that you had been sitting next to for the past three days, curled up next to the wall as you stared up into the sky that you had fallen from, knowing that if anybody was going to be here, they would arrive the same way.
you gave up on that third day, your throat dry having gone days without water, and your stomach growled, feeling as though it had been curling in on itself without anything to fill it. you couldn’t go any longer like this, but you couldn’t prance around in a school uniform that belonged to an academy that didn’t even exist yet, at least not that you knew of.
you also figured that since you had your pistol tucked into your waistband, it would be a good idea to pull your button-up out to cover the weapon, as it wouldn’t be a normal occurrence for a teenage girl walking around with a gun.
walking out onto the street once again, you look around at the buildings that lined the sidewalk, wondering what your best bet would be. you squint as you focus on a cafe, another grumble of your stomach reminding you of your hunger. maybe you could snag a free meal if someone took pity on you, or you could offer up some work in return for one. if it came down to it, you could snatch someone’s wallet without them noticing and find somewhere else.
taking a deep breath, you quickly cross the road before walking into the cafe, glancing around for a moment at the people that sat in the booths or at the circular tables filling the empty space, you bite your lip.
at the counter, you see a nice old lady fixing up a pot of coffee. only a few people filled the stools, and you sigh softly before walking up to the clean counter. “excuse me, miss?”
the woman turns around with the pot of the warm drink in hand, and you of course think of five. how could you not? he ran on coffee. “yes, dear?” she quickly moves to stand on the other side of the counter, placing the pot next to her as she already grabs the notepad from the pocket in her apron. “can i get you anything.”
clearing your throat quietly, you cross your arms over the countertop, leaning over them. “do you know if there’s anywhere nearby that i can stay at for cheap? i- i, uh, don’t really know the area.”
“well, aren’t your parents in town with you?” she questions, pocketing the pad as she tilts her head to the side.
you gulp as you quickly think up a story, looking to the wall behind her for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “i don’t know where they are.” you tell her, trying to sell the story by looking as upset as possible. you really were lost, so you didn’t need to fake that part of the act.
putting her hand over her heart, the lady frowns. “oh, baby. you don’t have any money, do you?” you shake your head, tapping your fingers against your forearm anxiously, “well, lucky for you, we’re shorthanded here, and there’s a place upstairs in need of someone. if you’d like, you can stay here until you find your parents.”
you smile at the offer, glad that you had managed to find such a kind woman. “that would be wonderful, if it’s no bother.”
“oh, of course not.” her lips pull up into a smile, “you must be hungry, would you like something to eat?”
you nearly drool at the thought of finally getting some food in your stomach, and you nod eagerly. “could i get some of that coffee, as well?” you tilt your head towards the pot, and she chuckles softly.
“whatever you need.” she grabs a mug, placing it in front of you and filling it up. “how about some biscuits and gravy? that’ll fill you up.”
“i’ll take whatever you give me.” you take a sip of the drink, feeling it burn your tongue slightly from the temperature, but you couldn’t care less. it would give you the energy you so desperately needed.
only a little while later, a plate of the promised biscuits was placed in front of you, a side plate of some bacon and eggs to go with it. you thank her before practically inhaling all of it, grateful to finally have something in your stomach.
when you were done, the woman introduced herself to be margaret, the manager of the place, and she even introduced the girl who worked day shifts at the place, stacy, before showing you up the stairs to the apartment.
“it’s not much.” the older woman unlocked the door, swinging it open to show the small, dusty apartment. “and it’s in need of some tlc, but i’m sure you’ll easily make it feel like home until it’s no longer needed.”
you step into the room, a small smile on your face. “it’s all i need. thank you for letting me stay here.”
“it’s the least i can do, dear. i’ll let you get settled in, and stacy can show you the ropes of the job once you’re done.”
-
you leave the door open behind you, going to the dresser by the small twin bed against the wall, opening the top drawer.
you pushed the clothes you had tossed in there (most of them stolen), smiling when you see the metallic glint underneath them. pulling out the pistol, you turn it in your hands, nodding slowly to yourself. “i knew i’d need you again.” you mumble softly, setting it on the bed before crouching down by the bed.
blindly searching beneath the wooden frame, you manage to find the one bag you had and pulled it out, hitting it a few times to shake the dirt and dust off. you open it up, slipping the gun into one of the pockets on the side before throwing a few other things inside that you felt you needed.
zipping the bag back up, you sling it over your shoulder and head back to the door, standing in the doorway for a moment to look back at it, before swinging the door shut and going back downstairs.
you walk out of the kitchen just as vanya gets up from her seat and rushes to the phone that hung on the wall. furrowing your eyebrows, you push past the gate at the counter and take the stool next to five. “did you tell her?”
he nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “i did. just- don’t tell her she caused the apocalypse. that won’t go well.”
biting your lip, you nod your head before grabbing the pot of coffee in front of the both of you, filling the empty mug that margaret had left for you. “my lips are sealed.”
it’s quiet for a moment before five looks to you. “do you know why that girl has been staring at me since we came in?” he questions, motioning towards where stacy took the order of a few people sat at a round table, and you can see her quick glances towards where you sat.
shaking your head, you take a sip of the coffee. “just ignore her. she’s... curious.” you chuckle softly as you look at the steam that floated out of your cup.
“curious?” he raises an eyebrow, “curious about what?”
you sigh softly, not wanting to outright say what she had been implying, because it caused too much to swirl around in your mind from what both she and lila had said. it was confusing. “you.”
he tilts his head in confusion, pursing his lips, before shrugging. “alright.” he looks back at where vanya stood at the phone as he finished the rest of his coffee. “this is taking too long.” he sighs heavily, standing from the seat at the counter and you quickly down the rest of what’s in your mug.
he ends the call without a word, and vanya’s eyes widen as whoever she was talking to had been cut off. “what the hell?”
“we don’t have time for this.” he tells her simply.
she still held the phone in her hand as she looked at him in distress, “that was my friend you just hung up on!”
“listen,” you sigh softly, grabbing her arm, “those people in the field are coming for us, and they’re going to keep coming until we’re dead. we can’t waste time.” you can see how upset she is, but you don’t feel bad. you’re just being honest.
five nods, “we need to stick together, figure out how to stop this doomsday. whoever this person is, they can’t be more important than the end of the world.” you let go of her arm as she breathes shakily, “we need to go.”
it’s quiet for a moment before she finally puts the phone back, taking a deep breath as you all leave the cafe.
-
you walked into an arena that you had found to be where luther had been fighting in for a while now, men surrounding the ring as they roared for their bets to win. some had beers in their hand and others waved their money in the air, and you purse your lips as you follow the other two, pushing past people to get into a good spot to see what happens.
as punches are thrown, cheers accompany them, and you have to cover your ears from the volume of it all. it was certainly overwhelming.
luther was in the ring with another man who, surprisingly, matched his size pretty well. you had always thought that with the whole monkey serum, he would be larger than anyone, no matter how tall or how much they lifted, but you now realized it was perhaps your change in size that made him seem so large.
as you lean against the rails that surround the ring, luther suddenly stops fighting, completely freezing in the center of the circle. the other fighter throws a punch, hitting him right in the jaw, and everyone seems confused as he doesn’t throw one back. “what the hell is he doing?” you lean towards five, having to shout over the others yelling for him to hear you as you watch the fighter throw more punches.
you see five’s shoulders shrug as he looks in confusion at the two, and suddenly, he’s being beaten up with absolutely no retaliation. he’s thrown into one of the walls surrounding them, but he still doesn’t do anything as he’s dragged back up and punched repeatedly. you barely hear five question what he’s doing over the yelling around you.
the fight ends when one of the hits knock him back and he lands on the ground covered in hay, the crowd booing as they had lost their money from him totally throwing the fight.
the three of you all mutter in confusion, looking at the man lying on the ground, blood pouring from his nose and covering his forehead.
taglists
main: @horrorklaus
tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash
five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty
let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath
#the umbrella academy#umbrella academy#tua#five hargreeves#hargreeves#five#number five#fanfic#reader insert#the umbrella academy x reader#umbrella academy x reader#tua x reader#five hargreeves x reader#five x reader#number five x reader#hargreeves x reader#series#one shot#x reader#lstw#let's save the world
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k.taehyung/reader
genre: arist!taehyung, painting!reader, parallel/horror universe
warning(s): violence, mannequins+paintings coming to life (bc ppl are scared of that), blood- but like red paint instead, horror/dread/action elements (i tried okay), bittersweet
words: 20.3k
One-shot | Two-shot | Series | Drabble | [Rated: Pg:15]
Loosely based on Ib, an RPG Horror/Adventure game + Leia (Vocaloid)
synopsis: Taehyung, a freelance, abstract artist is in the middle of one of the worst art blocks known to mankind. In an act of possible inspiration, he drags his best friend, Namjoon, to a new art gallery just opened. Only, he didn’t know that his visit would result in him getting separated from his friend and thrust into a new gallery. One he wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. Along with this mysterious new gallery, a collection of strange creatures lurking around every corner came with the unsettling territory.
a/n: i literally started this in March of 2019.... I have no excuse for the wait other than my bad. Regardless, Colorblind is FINALLY done and out! It’s obvs waayyy longer than I intended it to be back in 2019 when I could only pump out like 9k at max- it’s over double that now LOL. But that hopefully aint gonna stop y’all (pls, lmk what you thought/thnk, i’m so anxious about this one alsdjf)
“Here you are, gentlemen. Enjoy your visit to the gallery,” the receptionist at the counter smiled as she would to anyone. Handing over two pamphlets to the two men who stood in front of her. One was dressed in white track pants, two stripes running down the legs. A white, collared, button-up shirt with a tie exceptionally loose around his neck with a blue, track jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeve, matching his track pants.
The other man wore loose black pants around his hips. A black and white vertical striped, sleeveless jersey with three buttons on the collar with a red cap placed backward on his faded orange-haired head.
These two men were two Kim’s. Taehyung and Namjoon. Taehyung works as a self-employed, freelance artist; throwing and brushing paint over a canvas in random ways and creating objects and places for his mind to be free in abstract ways. Namjoon is a humbled journalist for a local news blog for his exceptional wording and phrasing on all sorts of topics.
Taehyung had come to the new gallery opening not too far from his home in search of inspiration. He had been in a bit of a slump lately, and with nothing to do and nothing worthwhile happening, he was desperate. Namjoon tagged along because he was tasked with the job of writing a review of the new establishment and creating a small article to include in the next online publication.
“Welcome to the grand opening of The Gallery of Leia!”
Taehyung mumbled to himself as he read the title of the pamphlet given to him. “Why Gallery of Leia?” He questioned the name as the receptionist answered promptly.
“Leia is the one surviving piece of an artist from way back when that survived a brutal fire. In honor of its survival, the gallery was named as such.” She said with a smile as Taehyung nodded and nudged Namjoon’s arm, who stood next to him.
“Let’s go,” he said as he walked inside, not trying to stick around for more conversation and holding up the line of people also trying to gain entry inside. Namjoon following him as he quickly scanned a the front of the pamphlet.
The gallery was two stories in a decent squared size building. It was quite the exercise trip in Taehyung’s opinion. Sculptures were placed against walls or out in the open for rotational viewing pleasure. Paintings and sketches were hanging, littering the walls for guests to see clearly. All the different pieces from all sort of artists featured here was amazing, such a wide variety as Taehyung’s eyes scanned the names. Some familiar, some not.
“Wow, this place is pretty busy,” Namjoon said as he looked around. Namjoon had pulled out a tablet from his side bag, turning on the large touch screen as he took the pen attached to the side of it and opened up a program for taking notes as he started scribbling. Taehyung peeked over his shoulder.
“You haven’t even seen any art yet. Why are you already jotting stuff down?”
“It’s always good to start an article with how packed or how empty a place is. The more people there, the more popular or interesting to the masses it is, which normally leads to more pros than cons. It’s like a first look into how interesting it may or may not be.” He rambled off like he’s answered the question a million times. Taehyung nodded with pouted lips.
“You’re such a workaholic.” Namjoon rolled his eyes at the remark, placing the pen between his fingers as he held his tablet and lowered it to his side.
“Let’s go look around.” The gallery itself, aside from the art pieces inside it, was stark white. White ceilings to match the white walls and tiled flooring in yet more, polished white. The lights weren’t as strong as one would think for a gallery, but if they were any brighter the receptionist would need to hand out complimentary sunglasses along with pamphlets because of all the lights bouncing off and around from the white interior.
Namjoon was busy looking at a large-scale sculpture of a red rose as Taehyung wandered around not too far from him. He turned down a hall that was surprisingly void of any warm bodies. He was surprised to find an area that hadn’t been cluttered with people yet. Though, he assumed it wasn’t all that odd considering the early morning hour.
Along the left wall was a large, long canvas, easily engulfing a vast majority of the wall itself. It also happened to be the only piece in this dead-end corridor.
Taehyung stood in front of the painting as he looked over it. Trying to see each and every detail. He was in awe of the detail and how much time it must have taken to even complete such a large painting. The dedication and time served to it was admirable.
The painting gave off an eerie vibe. A dark background with what seemed to be the space of a studio, a spacey and wide studio with canvas’s on walls, frames hanging, paints and easels littering the space leaking into a greater mass of a space with even more dark, distorted art. As he continued to look at it, he stopped to blink, reset his eyes and rub at them so he didn’t go crosseyed and get dizzy.
As Taehyung gazed at the whole of the masterpiece, Namjoon strode up to him. He whistled lowly in an impressed awe.
“Damn. That's one dedicated, dead painter.” He walked to the plaque underneath the frame, kneeling so he could read the title of the particular piece aloud. “Parallel Reality. Painted in 1996 by-” he couldn’t finish because the hall suddenly darkened. Namjoon and Taehyung both looked at the ceiling and the flickering lights before they blacked out completely. Leaving the room dark and quiet.
“A blackout?” Taehyung questioned. Namjoon stood up, walking back over to his friend.
“We should go back to the front desk.” Taehyung nodded as the two of them began the journey back, stepping carefully and squinting to make sure they wouldn’t run into any sculptures or walls. All the while, never once running into another person. In fact, the entire gallery was completely silent besides their footsteps.
“Where is everyone?” Taehyung asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.
“I’m sure they’ve all gathered outside. No point in staying in a dark gallery.” The two made it to the front glass doors. “It’s… dark outside?” Taehyung looked out through the glass doors. “It was just noon?” Namjoon shook his head, pulling on the door, but the door refused to open. “It’s locked!” He grunted, yanking again, pushing and pulling on the door. Nothing. Namjoon sighed as he turned to Taehyung. “Go look around, maybe someone is still here. In the meantime, I’m going to try and get this door open.”
Taehyung nodded before he turned and walked back into the gallery. The halls still dark, every window showing nothing but a dark, deep navy outside. He walked to a window to look outside, maybe get a glimpse of what was going on. But, nothing.
He turned and walked away, but jumped when he heard someone banging on the glass of the window he had just left. Running back, he could just barely make out the imprint of a wide handprint on the outside of the glass. It made a chill run up Taehyung’s back.
For a moment, he assumed it was Namjoon who had gotten out and was getting his attention to run to the front and get out. So, he did, dashing to the entrance and when he didn’t see Namjon around any longer, he tried the door. Still locked.
He hissed as he whipped back around and went back to the window before he shook his head. As he walked around the gallery further, his eyes began adjusting to the darkness and eventually he was even able to make out some of the art pieces again.
A painting of a black cat. One of a man hanging upside down by his ankles. A basket of fruit that he swore use to have an apple included in the basket. The back of a woman dressed in nothing but red.
He felt like he was walking in circles. More than ready to head back to just sit at the front until someone came- since someone had to at some point, he heard another set of footsteps. At first he thought it may be Namjoon coming back to find him; however, the footsteps were too light to be his friends- he always was a bit of a heavy stomper. Taehyung turned and headed towards the steps as they seemed to move further from him instead of towards him.
“Hey!” He called into the echoey halls of the dark gallery. The steps halting momentarily before they started running. So, Taehyung sprinted after them. “Where are you going?!” He yelled as he ran into an open, large venue. He looked around as he ran, seeing no one around. “Where are you?!” He shouted before he stepped in a puddle. No, not a puddle. A puddle would only be an inch or two deep. It surely wouldn’t be enough to engulf him entirely.
Now, Taehyung was sinking. Drowning slowly into the Abyss of the Deep before the lights flicked back on and the murmurs of people resumed.
-x-x-x-
When Taehyung woke up, his head was throbbing, his mind was fuzzy and his conscience more than a little confused. Laying on his chest on the floor like a jersey-dressed starfish, he groaned as he pushed himself up to support his torso on his elbows. His hair was messier than before as his bangs threatened to poke his eyes. Looking back and forth, he was in a hallway. The corridor was dark, a hint of purple and indigo surrounding the entire room. Walls, carpet, ceiling everything was the same shade of purple.
Obviously, the polar opposite than the pure white of everything previously.
Rolling onto his back and pushing himself to stand, he wobbled as he held his head and tried to will away the headache that was beginning to slowly lessen.
Going backward before trying to even round the corner down the way, he found a single wooden door at the dead-end of the hall. Twisting the knob, he entered the small room. The room was square, red and on the back wall was a single large painting of a woman. Her eyes were closed and her face was blank. Her hair was somehow painted off the canvas, down past the frame and onto the wall like it was real hair falling out of the portrait.
In front of that portrait was a single small wooden table with a vase. In that vase was a single, blue rose. A rose with 10 large, vibrant petals and a vine that lacked thorns. Taehyung had never seen a blue rose before- well, not a real, authentic one anyways. Everyone’s seen the fake, painted blue, red, pink, yellow, purple and whatever other color roses in dollar stores before. Thinking it was manmade, he examined it further, putting his hands on the table to close inspect. He became far more interested in the flower the more he looked at it.
It drew him in. The color captivated him and the aura around it seemed almost important and he felt the slightest urge to pick it up. Maybe he should, maybe it would be fine. Reaching out slowly, he drew the rose from the vase and something akin to a jolt of electricity ignited his fingertips. It felt like he had somehow forged an instant connection with this flower as soon as the end of the vine left the crystal clear water of the vase.
Call him crazy, but he almost felt fearful of putting it back and leaving it behind.
The vase on the table cracked as Taehyung’s attention shifted to it from the rose. Crack after crack spread on the vase before it burst into pieces. Taehyung hunched backward to shield his face with his arms from the exploded glass. Shards of glass sat on the table and fell to the floor as the water pooled around the wooden surface and continued to spread as it began to drip off the table’s edge onto the carpet.
“I guess, I’ll take it along.” He muttered to himself as he turned his back. As he exited the room, he failed to notice the woman’s portrait shift. Her eyes opened wide- almost insane- as she smiled. PItch black paint writing appearing under her frame in smeared text.
WHEN THE ROSE WILTS, SO TOO WILL YOU WILT AWAY
Taehyung left the room and the hallway he returned to had changed from what he last remembered. There were random letters on the ceiling and floor, spelling something that Taehyung couldn’t make out in the dark hall. At his feet, he felt himself kick at something when he moved to step forward. Picking it up, he held a small blue key in his palm.
Going further down the hall, he came to a forked path. He could continue going down the hall or take the staircase he that presented itself to him. The stairs lead up higher than he could see with two paintings on either side of the entrance. Two landscapes of a mountain range; one normal and the other an identical copy, only negative scaled. Coming to a decision, he took the hall just to cover the ground floor. Coming to just another dead end, he returned and took to the stairs up.
At the top of the stairs was a door. Trying it, it was locked.
“Naturally,” he huffed. Trying the key he had kicked with his shoe and picked up not too long ago, it fit perfectly and unlocked the door as he stepped through it. The door slammed shut and locked on it’s own behind him. The key becoming useless since their was no keyhole on this side of the door. He dropped it, leaving it behind.
He was in a library now. It was a small room, maybe not even considered a library. Just a room with bookshelves and books. Like a compact study without a desk.
He didn’t recognize a lot of the books- which was surprising considering he did have a liking for reading. He stopped scanning his fingers over the spines of books when among all the thick, sophisticated books was a tiny, thin spine of a bright red children's book.
Pulling it out from it’s snug place on the shelf, he held it in his hands. It was a short, wide book with a picture colored very messily in what he could only assume was crayon on the cover of it. Sitting on the ground, his back against the bookcase, he opened it’s thick, card-stock, wobbly pages.
The book was about a painter. He had been painting his whole life, so long in fact that he started to blend his world with reality. He would give his paintings ‘life’ and he’d treat them like they were truly alive. In his mind, they were his friends.
A painting of a lion toy no bigger than the size of a book, stills of sentient objects like a fan, and even paint brushes contained souls with a conscience and mind to this painter. Even a can of pressurized air that would ‘bully’ or tease the others when they least expected it was ‘alive’, leaving the painter to rip that painting of air up for it’s rotten behavior.
It ends with the painter creating a portrait of someone, something he wasn’t familiar with painting. People weren’t his strong suit and as such, he was left in isolation for most of his life. His devotion to painting left him alone in reality because he ‘saw’ nothing else. Thus, he created his own friend in a painting of a woman that didn't exist. When she ‘came alive’ he even grew to fall in love with her. The last few pages of the story were torn out, so Taehyung would never know the ending.
“Who would fall in love with something they knew was fake? Something painted would never come alive,” he muttered. Considering the painter in the story to be an utter fool.
Taehyung suddenly jumped, children’s book sliding off his legs and snapping shut as the door to his left unlocked with a loud clack. He slowly got up, picking the book back up taking it with him as he put it back on the shelf. The door that unlocked started to whine. The handle was rusty sounding as something from the outside started turning it.
In a very logical fit of panic, Taehyung rushed and grabbed the thickest book he could find and held it at the ready. Absolutely ready to whack whatever weirdo came into this room, knock them out (with luck), restrain them and then question where the hell he was. That, or a hit and run would work too. He’d figure out which suggestion when the time came in a few moments.
The turning of the knob halted. Stopped for so long that Taehyung thought whatever it was had gone away. Lowering his book, he squinted his eyes at the door. It was quiet, all he could hear was his breathing with the occasional nervous gulp of his.
There was only but another beat of silence before chaos erupted.
The door busted open, nearly ripping off it’s handles. Taehyung, with a short, shocked scream, stumbled back as two things threw themselves into the room. One was a woman, or rather half a woman. Long brown hair cascaded down her head and her torso was decked in a red turtleneck. Her face had a twisted demeanor etched into what would probably be a beautiful face otherwise. From her waist down was nothing but a picture frame. Her lower half didn’t exist and was replaced with a black void background and frame with gold edges. It was like some horror effect that dragged around behind her everywhere she crawled.
The second was an actual woman. Legs, arms, chest and all. Dressed in ruined overalls, a long sleeved white shirt with yellow stripes up the arms. Tacky, torn brown boots on her feet as she stomped and kicked away at the woman in the frame. She was wielding... a stick? Or what looked like what may be part of what was once another picture frame. End jagged and just asking for someone to get a nasty splinter.
The woman in the frame hissed at her like a dog as her clawed hands moved to drag her across the floor towards the actual woman’s legs. The framed lady moved faster than Taehyung imagined was possible. Dragging her half body across the floor and slithering with an absurd amount of grace like a snake.
The lady in the frame latched onto the woman’s leg causing her to in turn repeatedly kick at the frame’s head with her opposite foot. The frame screamed as she was kicked against a bookshelf. Books fell, toppling onto the frame as she screeched. However, her insistent screeching silenced when the real woman took the jagged end of the broken frame she wielded and thrust it into the frames exposed and vulnerable head.
Red ‘paint’ erupted from the frame like a fountain before it became completely limp. The woman shook the frame piece around, whipping it like a sword after a battle to remove the blood of the slain. Then, the woman looked over her shoulder at Taehyung. He froze in place, his shoulders jumping at him finally being noticed.
Your eyes widened as they locked onto Taehyung’s. Shocked to see him there. Your eyes were an unusually bright colored abyss with such a dull contrasting look in them. He wasn’t sure if he could even see his reflection if he were standing right in front of you.
You gasped lightly as if being hit with some sort of realization before turning to face him fully. Even if you were a good 10 feet from him he flinched. More than a little bit intimidated with you still holding your broken frame piece and witnessing you pretty much kill what he would label a Feminine Frame Monster.
“You’re the one everyone is looking for…” You muttered to herself. There was a commotion beyond the door that was hanging pathetically onto its frame. From down the hall, scraping and screeching were heard in a humming echo. You looked over your shoulder before you moved towards Taehyung, looking at him and grabbing his bicep with little hesitation. You yanked his arm to signal that you were clearly going to be ordering him around.
Taehyung felt like a doll being pulled around by a child. You were shorter than he expected for someone who just took out a monster as he peered over your head, like a child standing as high as possible to peek out a window. Your grasp on him loosened as you moved to grab his wrist instead. You pulled him slightly again, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in as he finally looked at you again.
“We need to go. More of them are coming, and unless you want to end up painting fodder, you’ll follow me.” He looked down at you as you finally noticed the rose peeking out of his jacket pocket. You gasped, pointing at it with your other hand that whipped around the red stained frame piece. “Hide that!” You seethed as Taehyung’s hand immediately shoved itself into his pocket to cover the rose before she began to run out of the room, Taehyung in tow; against his will, might he add.
The halls he was being dragged through were inconsistent and almost gave him a headache. First running through purple halls, then red filled with empty black picture frames. Zooming through green halls that had arms shooting out of them, claws skimming over Taehyung’s jacket and reaching for his rose. He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his chest to keep it safe from anyone- thing- trying to grab it. Finally, your running came to a stop as you swung open a door before shoving him by his shoulder. You slammed the door securely shut before locked it.
When the door was shut, Taehyung took a moment or two to look around as he tried to regain his breath.
He was in a blue room now. Two bookshelves with almost nothing on them and a small table next to a violet couch. The table held a cerulean vase on it with water filled inside almost to the point it overflowed. On the back wall was only one giant frame with a pure white puzzle glued one the inside of it.
“A milk puzzle?” He questioned more to himself than anything else. You sighed when it was quiet and then collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor. Catching Taehyung’s attention, he panicked as he ran to your side, kneeling beside you and debating on whether or not he should put his hand on your shoulder. You panted and pushed your forehead against the door. Hair hiding your face as it hung, falling off your heaving shoulders. “Are you.. Alright?” Taehyung asked slowly- cautiously.
You only nodded as you finally caught your breath. Sitting up straighter, taking one last breath to even your breathing before you finally looked up at Taehyung. He knelt higher than your head level as he confirmed that he indeed couldn’t find his reflection in your eyes he stared into.
“You’re the intruder that everyone is looking for in the Gallery, aren’t you?” She questioned. He blinked in confusion.
“Intruder?”
“You don’t belong here and you need to get out of here as soon as you can. This isn’t a place for someone like you.” Taehyung wasn’t understanding anything. You held your hand out towards him, almost asking for something. “Your rose. You still have it right?” He nodded as he showed the rose he still held cradled to his chest. He was thankful the vine was thornless, or else his palm would have been riddled with small, painful punctures.
For some reason, he felt like his rose would be safe with you, so he easily handed it over. You took it and looked over it’s petals. Admiring the shade of blue, you shifted her gaze to look from beautiful azure petals and into Taehyung’s eyes. “What’s your name?” You asked.
“Taehyung,” he answered instinctively. You nodded at the sound of it, committing it to memory. “Yours?”
“I’m Y/n,” you curtly told him as you lifted the rose back into the conversation. “Do you know how important this rose is?” He shook his head. You sighed as you moved to face him fully, sat relaxed on the floor. Lifting your arm to bring you opposite hand to touch one of the petals your fingertips dusted around a single soft petal. You held it with delicacy before your grip changed and your nails gripped and plucked it off the stem.
Taehyung gasped, a pain shooting through his chest as his hand flew up to grip his shirt. His one-knee kneeling position changed as both knees hit the carpet.
It felt like his heart just skipped a beat and almost seemed to stall for a moment. Shaken up, he wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost harder to breathe? Air came more difficult to take and his energy felt zapped. The one petal you had pulled off fluttering to the ground at his knees.
You plucked another one, the second petal fluttering to the floor to join the first. More pain shot through him again as he found himself bracing himself forward, the hand that wasn’t clenching around the front of his shirt, falling in front of him to join his knees on the carpet. It felt like someone was wrapping a rope around his chest and squeezing the life out of him. Crushing his ribs and lungs suffocating him.
“What,” he gasped, “are you doing... to me?” He sputtered as he coughed. He heard you move before you were at his back, picking him up and bringing him weakly to his feet. You practically dragged him to the couch, his feet dragging on the carpet the whole way before he fell into the cushions.
As you stood over him, you pluck another two petals off and he let out small, silent coughs of protest. Whatever you were doing, he was ready for you to stop. He really thought he was dying.
“Watch,” you told him as the dark bags under his eyes materialized. You walked to the crystal water-filled vase. Taking his rose that had lost four petals already, you placed the stem over top of the vase and dropped it inside. The stem hit the water and immediately Taehyung’s eyes widened as he watched the petals regrow right before his eyes.
The rose seemed to glow with a calming, almost reassuring, blue hue for but a moment before the pain in his body stopped. The pangs of hurt disappeared from within his eyes as he let go of his chest and the pain faded. It was like the pain was just a hallucination. You slowly withdrew the rose from the vase and handed it back to him as you move to stand in front of him. He had moved from laying in pain on the couch to sitting himself up properly.
Taehyung gently took the rose from you. “When the rose wilts,” you start.
“So too will I…” Taehyung finishes, unsure on how he knew how to finish the phrase. It was like it was just engraved on his tongue as he said it. The dawning realization that this flower was tied to his life grew into his mind as he spun it between his thumb and forefinger. “But, I-I don’t understand.” He shook his head. You moved to sit beside him, ready to answer whatever questions he has. “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”
“You’re in the gallery.”
“No,” he denied curtly, lifting his hand in denial. “I was in the gallery. Now, I’m here.”
“You were in the real gallery. Somehow, you got sucked into this one. The gallery you were in isn’t where you are now and frankly I don’t know how you got here. This is a fabricated reality created from a man’s paintbrush. A human shouldn’t be able to come here.” You got up and grabbed a small, face down picture frame from the top one of the small, dusty, bookshelves. Bringing it back with you to the couch, you handed it to him.
Taehyung recognized the man in the photo. “I know this artist. He died a long time ago.” Though his name escaped the young artist.
“Guena. That’s the pen name he used in his profession.” You looked around at the small room. “This room, and all the other rooms too. Every painting and creature here was created by him and his desire to create souls for his non-living creations,” you told him. “But, things are different now. Everything is distorted,” you scowled.
Just like the picture book he found. The creations were given life by the hands of the creator then the creator died, leaving all of his ‘lives’ behind. If that were so, then it would be no wonder why everything would begin to fall apart. It was akin to a circus without a Ring Master. Taehyung furrowed his brows before he placed the photo beside him on the cushions.
He looked up to you, into your dull eyes that somehow held the most breathtaking color.
“How long have you been here?” He asked.
“I’ve been here since the beginning and I will remain here until the end.”
“Do you have a rose, like I do?” He felt like he knew the answer, but nonetheless less you shook your head. He knew what he wanted to really ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it- what words should he use? To you, who he had just met in the most fictional turn of events that he still can’t wrap his head around. You were nothing like him and he knew that.
“I’m a painting, Taehyung.”
When you told him the truth he was already beginning to suspect, it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say he still internally panicked. Something that looks so human, yet wasn’t at all. You were nothing but brush strokes and shapes somehow given life. You probably crawled straight out of a frame too.
You saw the emotion flash through his eyes and you were almost jealous of how his eyes could change. Unlike yours that were stuck, his could tell you a whole story without the use of words. Anyone in this place could tell immediately he was human because of those eyes.
In respect to him and his unease, you made sure to keep your distance. You truly weren’t a threat. All you wanted was for him to get out, and to get out safely. You’ve been watching your world fall apart since Guena died. Every creature that was alive was losing their ‘mind’ and it was only a matter of time before it started to infect you too. It was a disease that humans didn’t need to get involved in.
“I’m going to be your escort out of here. With your lack of reaction when in the face of danger, you’d probably get yourself killed in an instant.” You moved back to the door where you sat on the floor, you're back against the wood as you looked at him across the room on the couch. “You rest for now and make sure to keep your rose safe with you. This room is safe, so you don’t need to worry about something happening.”
Then, you stopped talking. Taehyung almost felt guilty. You were a painting, and you couldn’t show all the emotions that the could. You weren’t actually real after all, so it was normal to assume you had a expressional limit. He watched as you sat against the door completely silent and still with closed eyes. He was unsure if you were really sleeping or if you even could.
He looked at the rose in his hands. This rose is so important and he didn’t know how to fathom what the hell was going on. It all happened too fast and he couldn’t begin to process it all.
He missed Namjoon as he knew that he was probably still wandering around the real gallery looking for him. He wondered if Namjoon managed to get out since he wasn’t at the front or if the lights kicked back on and he was alright. He lifted and looked at the photo of Guena beside him again.
It was odd. That was the man who somehow created this world and he was also the same painter who created Leia. The painting that gave the real gallery it’s name. Taehyung never got to see that painting in the gallery- not that he was able too see much to begin with, and he’s not so sure he wanted to at the moment.
Taehyung was a sympathetic and empathetic person- always had been and probably always will be. The line between the two blurred in his case. So, when he looked at you, he felt a sense of guilt as you kept away from him. You spoke curtly, yet kindly. You didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive and you seemed trustworthy enough; especially compared to that framed lady from before.
You brought him here after all. A secluded room and you didn’t attack him or take his rose. You plucked four petals off his rose, but then turned around and healed him. You even returned it, he knew it was all to prove the point of its importance. You weren’t going to hurt him and he believed that with his whole heavy-beating heart.
“Y/n? Are you sleeping?”
Your eyes remained closed, but you answered. “No. I can’t. I’m a painting, remember?”
“Okay. Then, I have a question,” he said as you slid your eyes open. Looking at him from your place by the door. “That thing you killed?” Did you kill it? Could paintings die? “What was it?”
“They’re called, The Ladies.”
“They? There’s more?” Taehyung’s voice slightly quivered at the idea of more hissing, hacking, floor-crawling, psycho half ladies being out there.
You nodded. “What you saw was only one of many Ladies. She was a Lady in Red. There are also Ladies in Green and Ladies in Blue. They’re more common than most. About as common as mannequins.”
“Excuse me? Mannequins?” You looked at him as a shiver ran up his body. Goosebumps littered his covered skin. “I fucking hate mannquins,” he seethed unconsciously to himself. The look he put on his face was that of disgust and pure anguish and yet somehow twisted into an almost comical look. You almost smirked at his foul language and facial cues.
Your smirk twisted and soon you burst out into laughter at his face that just seemed so comical to you. A face someone like you couldn’t pull off because you were fake. He looked at you as you laughed at him. The tension that was in the air seemed to be shattered like a nail being driven into a pane of glass. Soon, Taehyung was laughing at you laughing at him. Your fit ended as you smiled and shook your head, calming down.
Taehyung was more than happy to try and get a small nap in now that he knew that you weren’t completely devoid of emotion. Someone, fake or not, who can laugh and smile like that surely wasn’t a bad person.
-x-x-x-
Taehyung was startled from his small rest when a tremor shook the room. Panicking as he sat straight, rim-rod up, you were already on your feet and looking at the door. You half expected something to charge inside, even when this place was supposed to be somewhere to rest up and be away from any sort of harm. Taehyung flung his legs off the sofa and stood up so quickly he had a wave of dizziness hit him as he held his head and staggered. Shaking it off, he was at your side, standing just a step behind you.
“What the hell is that?” He lightly asked, like if he was too loud something would hear him. You just flexed your arm, the hand around the hardened piece of art frame you kept continuing to wield tightening. “It feels like the ground is moving,” he looked down at his feet. Like the carpet beneath him was beating in microbursts.
“It’s a distortion wave. This happens the weaker this world gets and that means it’s only going to get that much worse outside.” You looked at him. “I hope you have some strength in those arms of yours, because you might have to use it.” Taehyung hated the thought of violence, even if it was against figuratively inanimate objects that weren’t supposed to exist . They weren’t alive, but they were still able to die. His toes curled at the thought of it. You saw the unease in his eyes before looked back at the door, rotating your wrist and twisting around your weapon. “Just stick close to me and run like your life depends on it.”
The lack of an additional ‘because it will’ was an approved choice on Taehyung’s ears.
You opened the door and outside it was a madhouse. Even more paintings coming alive. Some stuck in their frames as they clawed at the air and hissed. Distorted in sharp and blurred strokes as they swiped. Ghastly hands and objects plunged from walls and hung from the ceiling. Mannequins moved far faster than previously and he could hear the hissing and scraping of frames on the floor from the Ladies as they drug themselves across the floor like lethal roaches.
You bolted out of the safe room, Taehyung hot on your heels as he stayed immediately behind you. You dashed down halls, staying in the center away from the walls and anything reaching for you. You kept Taehyung at your side, pulling him to and fro away from anything that could harm him if he got too close. You rounded corners in rushed steps or slides as Taehyung occasionally grabbed the back of your overalls to keep you from skidding into the walls from your unstoppable momentum. You swung and hacked at anything that came close and kept them at bay the best you could with your frame.
Taehyung pointed ahead of you, a set of doors ahead.
“Go into one of those!” He wasn’t sure where he got off telling you where to go. Especially since he was literally the worse qualified person to do so. You didn’t seem to argue back though, so he continued. “The, uh, the yellow one!” He yelled over the chaos. You just looked back at him slightly over your shoulder, brows creased.
“Which one is the yellow one?!” You shouted as he slightly stumbled before he grabbed your wrist and took off, running faster and ahead of you before he stopped at a door of brilliant yellow, pulled it open and pushed you inside, slamming it closed. The room was empty save for a single mirror on the back wall. Thankfully, yellow seemed to be a pretty safe choice.
Taehyung could always trust yellow.
“Y/n,” he called as he still held your wrist in his hand and you were hunched over. You weren’t alive, but you seemed unwell. “What’s wrong?” He looked at the skin under his hand that showed with the fabric of your long sleeve pushed up your wrist. He gasped silently when he saw it’s complexion shift into a distortion of ugly, muddle colors before vanishing as quickly as it came. “What was that?” He shook his head. “No, hold on. Different question. Can you not see color?”
“No, I can’t.” You stood back up, yanking your wrist out of his grip. You looked at your skin as you hissed. The distortion was starting to hit you and the stages would eventually progress into a problem- but he didn’t need to know that. “I was painted as portrait by a lonely, selfish painters. He didn’t think to give me the ability to see color so, I can’t see colors or tell them apart.” You shook your wrist out. “Is that a problem?”
Taehyung jolted. You were clearly touchy on the topic. He cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Uh, well not really . I guess if you have me, I can point out colors for the both of us. Why didn’t you tell me you were colorblind though? It would’ve been pretty useful to know before we started running for our lives through some fucked-up haunted house reality check.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.” You sighed. You had made it this far without relying on the colors you couldn’t tell apart. Why would now be any different? You couldn’t even see the color your body or clothes were- if they had color to them at all. For all you knew, you were all black and white and grey. You walked to the back wall and stood in front of the mirror there, frowning as Taehyung came up behind you. He was as black and white as you were in your eyes.
“So, you can’t see any color?” He touched his shirt, opened his jacket and pulled his headband. He pulled your hair up dramatically and motioned to yourself as a whole in the mirrors reflection. “Nothing at all?”
“Nothing at all,” you confirmed. “I can conceive the idea of colors, but I’ve never had a proper need to see or tell them apart. I know when something is a threat and I know when something is not. That’s all that really matters here.” Your indifference was something Taehyung- a painter- couldn’t comprehend. What kind of painting can’t see their own colors? Wouldn’t that be painful or frustrating at the very least?
“Your shirt is yellow and white,” Taehyung spoke. You looked at his reflection with raised brows. “Your overalls are faded and nearly ruined, but they’re dark blue and your boots are brown. Your hair is really pretty and your eyes are too.” He described your outfit to you like you were a child, but he meant well.
Just saying the color of your clothes didn’t help you grasp the concept of what it really looked like aside from the range of grey and white and black you saw through your eyes. “Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I thought you’d like to at least now,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” you told him quickly as you pulled at your sleeves, fixing and adjusting them to cover your arms properly again. So, that light shade of grey- nearly white- was yellow? “I've never actually learned what color is what to my eyes,” you told him. “It’s nice knowing at least one color,” you whispered more to yourself than anything.
So, it did bother you. Taehyung felt something swell like pride in his chest as he was acting the role of teacher.
If it were any other situation and if you were a person instead of a painting, he’d be glad to teach you all the colors he could. He felt it was his duty as an artist- freelance or not- to educate those about all the corners of art. However, you weren’t real and he wasn’t at home in his studio, but in a haunted gallery of danger.
Taehyung stepped away from you as he made his way back to the front of the room and the yellow door. He put his ear to the door, not hearing much of anything outside anymore. He hoped that you and he were able to give them the slip- as obvious as a tactic as that was. When he tried the doorknob, however, it didn not twist. Jammed or locked, he knocked his forehead against the yellow wood in frustration.
“Of course,” he groaned before he turned to see you still standing in front of the mirror in the back of the room. “Y/n, the door is locked. Unless we have another way out, we’re stuck in here.” He announced, making his way back to you as you seemed to finally break out of your own reflection and look around.
“There’s got to be something we can trigger to open the door or another way out. Just look around,” you told him. You started wandering the room, but Taehyung only stood still, crippling his chin in thought and tapping his toes. The room was completely empty, what could he possibly miss if nothing was in the room except a single, wall mounted mirror?
He thought of all the cheesy cliches like a floor tile trigger or a secret compartment in one of the four walls of ht boxed room. However, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to test out those ideas.
Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own reflection that scowled back towards him in thought. He scurried away from the mirror in a haste as he yelped when the glass cracked. Splitting down the center in crooked, ugly cracks and small splinters of glass falling from the mirror. Your ear picked up on the continuous cracking of the mirror’s glass, unlike Taehyung and before he knew what was happening, you were yanking on his shirt and jacket collar. He choked slightly at you pulling him away from it completely as it shattered.
Bursting from the inside out, glass shot forward before raining down to the hard tile of the room. What was left behind wasn’t the wall behind the mirror, but a matte black door with a sign hanging on the center of it.
‘PASSAGE’
“Is that our way out?” He asked skeptically as he stood back up and brushed off his clothes of any stray shards that clung to him. Looking back, the yellow door you both had rushed through had disappeared. Nothing, but this black door and the walls remained. He huffed. “Guess that answers that, huh. Wha- hey!” He called as you had already started opening the black door to enter it. “What if it’s dangerous in there?!”
“There’s no other option,” you told him, pushing the door open before stepping into the same, thick blackness the door represented. “Stay here if you’re so scared,” you sarcastically teased as you stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, the artist was hot on your tail inside.
The two of you walked through the black hall that stretched from the door you both entered, Taehyung behind you as he grew in more in nerves. There were no lights and the light front he doorway was long gone behind his back. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and he felt like he was losing his mind.
He could only hear your footsteps, his footsteps and the sound of your sharpened frame weapon dragging across the ground that you had taken from your belt loop as soon as the darkness became thick enough to warrant a twinge worry.
The air in the ever stretching corridor became so thick it was hard to catch his breath as he moved to grab your wrist for guidance. Then, giggling began echoing from every direction. Bouncing off what might be a nearby walls and drilling directly into his head. Giggling that mimicked creepy doll sound effects in horror movies, only so much worse. You, unsurprisingly, weren’t phased by the verbal taunts- Taehyung, however, was.
You could feel the trembles in his fingers around the wrist of yours he held so tightly. You twisted your wrist, freeing it from his grasp for a moment and you could physically feel his panic the moment his fingertips left your skin. He was quick to calm down when you shot your arm back and grabbed around his hand instead.
Taehyung only grew more and more nervous as the darkness didn’t seem to end. There was nothing in front of him or behind him to act as a beacon of any sort of hope that it would eventually come to a brightly lit finish. Not even your presence he knew was there was any comfort to him. It felt like the darkness was ebbing away at his sanity and choking him.
In the midst of his silent anxiety, he thought he felt something whisper along the back of his neck. He let out a small, strangled noise of startled protest as he unconsciously ripped his hand away and out of yours. His panic set in tenfold now that he had no idea where you were anymore.
He reached out in front of him in a frenzied panic as he waved his arms around in front of himself like a crazy person. He was sure if he was in light or if someone could see him, they’d think him completely bat-shit insane. No matter where he reached or how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you. He couldn’t even hear you anymore.
Your footsteps were gone along with the frame dragging and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own hiccuped gasps of air. A horrible humming filled his ears and he quickly brought his palms up to the sides of his head, covering his ears to try and block out the noise. It only seemed to intensify though, as if he had cupped around the humming and shoved it directly against his eardrums.
His knees wobbled and his footing staggered before his knees finally hit the ground. The hard ground that was below his feet changed the moment his knees collided with it.
Water was running along the hard ground that now felt like tile. If he ran his fingers along the floor, he would be able to trace the groves of cement and glue holding the pieces of breakable flooring together. He wasn’t able to properly process it in the overwhelming state of mind he was currently becoming more and more trapped in.
The water that seeped into his pants drew higher and higher before engulfing his knees, thighs and eventually coming to reach his waist. His hands stayed covered over his ears as he shuttered and shook his head back and forth- trying to chalk it all up as another nightmare. He’d wake up on another couch any moment in a room that you had taken him too. This was just his mind playing trick on him- wasn’t it?
The humming grew louder and louder before it went completely silent. The shift in noise to nothing was too sudden; uncomfortably sudden. He should be relieved that the horrible, horrible sound that drilled into his head had stopped, but he was only accompanied by the newfound silence with a chill running up his spine and staying in the base of his neck .
Taehyung couldn’t move. He shook and trembled, waist deep in cold water.
Was this what insanity felt like? Was he really losing his mind?
Then he remembered. He was finally able to move again when he remembered his rose. The flower that was somehow keeping him up and kicking. He moved his hands from his ears and began to frantically pat around his body. His chest, his hips and thighs. In and out of pockets. He couldn’t find it. He thought he had already reached his maximum panic level, but he was oh so wrong.
He lost his rose and he felt like he was near his breaking point. He hated that it affected him so much in both a mental and physical sense. Taehyung had normally defined himself as a more or less tough person to break down in more cases.
He hardly had time to adjust to the life threatening new world he found himself in with art coming to life to kill him. Not to mention that his life was tied to a blue flower and he was dependent on a painting for safety.
Taehyung was literally walking through his own personal nightmare. Who wouldn’t start losing their marbles after all that?
His ducked down head shot up when he thought he heard something drop into the flooded flooring. He swore he heard the water ripple as it sounded like someone was walking, or dragging their feet through the water. The sound of moving water echoed and he couldn’t pinpoint from which direction whatever was around him was moving. Then the water pushed up his legs like something pushed the water towards him and he froze again.
He felt a breath blow against his forehead, his hair blowing in small, annoying strands that tickled his eyebrows and forehead. Whatever was wading in the water beforehand, was now right in front of him.
His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out before the room erupted in bright lights. He flinched under the extreme difference, the humming coming back to drill into his skull as fluorescent lights lined the ceiling above him.
When he was able to pry his eyes open, they glued themselves open at the sight of the creature in front of him. It was… he couldn’t even begin to explain what it was.
It looked like it had the basic shape of a person, but the limbs were far too long and lanky and it was engulfed in a thick looking, black tar that oozed and dripped from it’s appendages. It’s head was also shaped like a humans, but turned completely sideways. The side of it’s head parallel with the floor as that same, thick blackness dripped from it’s chin that pointed directly to the left. The mouth was nothing but a white circle in the middle of its face with black dripping between it’s ‘lips’ like jail bars.
Whatever it was, it was horribly ugly and Taehyung thought his mind was distorting. The space around the creature seemed crackly- like tv static.
The artist couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t flee. He couldn’t even scream. But it could. It could move, it could groan and moan, it could scream. And it did.
The mouth opened further into an elongated oval and a set of eyes showed themselves in small, crescents with the ends pointing to the left towards their chin on their crooked head. The shrill shriek it let out made Taehyung’s bones rattle under his skin, like someone had just run a xylophone stick across his ribs.
It had brought it’s long, thin, dripping arms up as it seemed to ready lunge at the young, fear-stricken artist. It screeched once more before it began to lunge, but it was immediately stopped in it’s tracks before it could do any sort of physical harm.
The screech was cut short, as the head- in fact- the entire torso of the creature was pushed down by something. It fell face first into the water at Taehyung’s knees as a long, golden strip of a picture frame stuck out of the back of it’s head.
Red paint leaked out of the creatures head as it lay still and motionless in the water, dying the flooded area a shade of crystal pink. The smell wasn’t what he expected- what he expected to smell like iron, blood and death instead smelt of a flower shop, honey and lemonade. The monster with a frame in the back of it’s head smelt like summer.
Was it… dead?
Then he heard more footsteps, however with the lights on and eyes properly adjusted now, he could see exactly where they were coming from and who. It turns out that somehow he had made it into a room- a small cube area that had no windows and only one door that was now thrown open. Through that door, your body was slouched against the frame out of breath- once again ironic since you weren’t alive- and dripping blue drops of paint from your chin.
He was speechless- no longer from fear, but from shock.
You wadded through the pink water to stand in front of him. You turned to the creature you had just taken down by hurling your frame piece at it and quickly pulled the frame out. Red spurt from the wound like a pathetic, paint-filled fountain. Before long, it was simply oozing and rolling off the skull of the creature into the water before it started to completely fade away like ash.
You looked back to Taehyung who had disappeared previously from your grasp and you knelt in front of him. Waving your hand in front of his face, he didn’t respond. You looked down and around him to see his hand stuck on the inside of his jacket- like he had stopped looking for something mid-search.
“Tae-”
“Rose,” he whispered urgently, interrupting you. You gently dug into the small pouch you had on your side- where you got that, he wasn’t sure- and before a moment longer passed, blue petals were shown in his line of sight. That seemed to finally start to snap him out of it. “That’s my,” he whispered, the rest of his words dying on his tongue.
“You dropped it earlier when you let go of my hand,” you told him. You gently took his hand from the inside of his jacket and placed the flower delicately inside his palm. “You need to take better care of that if you want to get out of here.”
One, small tear fell from his eye before he was throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards him. Your face fell into his shoulder as you felt him shake around you. You raised your arms tentatively and started to pat at his back awkwardly.
“Don’t worry,” you shushed, as you stared at the back wall. You could hear the ashy pieces of the creature disengerate behind your back as his tremors quelled to shivers and soon he was still and his breath wasn’t ragged anymore. He had calmed himself down as he squeezed you against his chest.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
-x-x-x-
Once Taehyung was able to move again without shaking or fearing for his safety and he had properly calmed down, you led him out of the room he had been trapped in. Going down another long hall with nothing but lights lining the walls, he briefly stopped at a plaque on the wall next to another door. This door wasn’t colorful or odd- it looked so ordinary it stood out among the bright purple hall he stood in.
“Gallery ahead,” he muttered, reading aloud as the sighed at the plaque that had an arrow pointing ahead beyond the door.
Opening the door, there was no noise and all was quiet. Taehyung followed you as he looked around.
True to the plaque, it really was just another portion of the gallery. Proper paintings on the walls with names below it, statues sectioned off with rope and dividers, mantles with busts- it too looked like an authentic, ordinary gallery. The door you both passed through shut with a soft click as he looked behind at it still jumpy from earlier on. He was thankful it didn’t slam at least.
The floors were tile and shining like they had just been cleaned and waxed. The walls were covered in a boring, but oddly suiting wallpaper fit for an aged art gallery while chandeliers hung along the ceiling lighting the place in a soft, glowing light.
“This is a nice break from the rest of the place,” Taehyung told you, catching up to your back as you were making your way through the place. He came to walk beside you, looking at your eyes that couldn’t see any color.
“It is a section of the world that hasn’t been touched too badly by the distortion. If anything is alive here, it shouldn’t be a threat,” you assured him. The fact you had put away your makeshift weapon put him further at ease. He looked back and forth at the walls lined with art.
This was what he was hoping to experience coming into the real gallery today.
Just browsing around to try and spark something in him to create something new. To inspire him- not threatening his very life after sucking him into an actual nightmare world. He briefly jumped when a painting of a black cat blinked before it stretched and jumped right out of it’s canvas. He meowed up at him as he rubbed against his leg before scampering off somewhere else. His padding paw steps disappearing down the hall.
Taehyung almost smiled at that.
The two of you walked in silence, the only sound in the gallery was the sound of both of your footsteps and the occasional sound of harmless art brought to life. Taehyung stared at your back as you walked ahead of him and he began to wonder. He wondered about a lot.
He wondered what would happen to you when he managed to get out of this place. What would happen if he tried to maybe take you with him? Could you survive outside this place since you weren’t really born? Would this gallery even exist when he leaves it or would it cease to be?
He stopped in his tracks he he caught himself. Why was he even thinking about taking you with him?
The young artist was ripped from his thoughts when he saw your body jerk forward before you were staggering on your feet then falling to your knees on the tiled floors of the peaceful part of the gallery.
“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he jogged up behind you. He placed his hand on the middle of your back as he knelt beside you and dipped his head down to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “Y/n, hey!” He called as your body shook and heaved like you were a living breathing person in the midst of a breathing fit. You were a painting with a soul, but not really alive so did you breathe? He found himself asking that to himself way too often.
He shook his head- that wasn’t the thought he needed to overthink right now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tried coaxing you.
You just shook your hand towards him; whether to shut him up or shoo him away he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t move from your side regardless. When your arm raised, he saw beneath your sleeve a sort of discoloration. It was just like what he saw earlier in the mirror room.
He took your wrist in his hand as he pushed your sleeve up when you suddenly fell into him. He jolted as he rolled you to lay on your side- your head lolling off in a way that looked uncomfortable with your shoulder pushing into the ground. He lifted your head, putting it on his leg to try and help you at least a bit.
You twitched as he examined your skin. It looked like your arm was covered in a horrific bruise. Ugly splotches of black, blue, purples, greens and yellows engulfed your arm like a tattoo sleeve gone horribly wrong. His brows dipped as he looked at the rest of your arm before he looked at the other. It was the same thing, but not nearly as severe in terms of color and blotches. It was like it was spreading.
“What the hell?” He murmured as you seemed to be calming down. You pushed yourself of his leg to lay on your back on the ground as your chest stopped heaving and you stopped twitching. You closed your eyes, focusing on coming back down from whatever attack had ailed you and before too much longer, you were forcing yourself to sit up again.
Taehyung sat beside you, slowly drawing his hand back and away from you as you pushed your sleeve back down to cover your ruined skin. He narrowed his eyes at you as you looked back at him. For someone who wasn’t really alive, you seemed to have bags under your eyes. Something was straining you and you weren’t telling him about it.
“So?” He asked with a sharp tone as you just returned his word with a sigh as an answer. He wanted an explanation and he wanted it sooner rather than later.
“It’s not-”
“Tell me or I’m gonna annoy you continuously until you give in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
You ticked your eyebrow up at him. “You’re threatening me? You realized I’m the one who’s been taking down everything that has attacked us so far, right?”
“It’s not a threat,” he promised as he crossed his arms sitting on the floor. He looked like a child. In the end you let out another defeated sigh. There would be no point in arguing with him. He’d probably run you in verbal circles until he got his way anyway.
“You know how the rest of the gallery is corrupted, you’ve seen it. Everything in this world that is art is affected.” You grabbed the sleeve of your arm as you sat more comfortably. “Just because I’m fighting against it now, doesn’t mean I’m uneffected. It’s a distortion that affects the arts- good or bad- and we can’t do anything about it. I’m just stubborn.”
Taehyung sat for a moment before opening his mouth again.
“So, you’re going to turn bad too?” He asked timidly.
“It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”
“That’s crazy,” he whispered to the floors when his chin dipped down. He groaned as he brought his hand up to ruffle his lightly colored hair. You had been protecting him ever since you found him and now there’s a chance you could turn against him too? That was just crazy. You wouldn’t just turn on him like that, right? It’d be gradual and not just flipping a switch from sane to insane, right?
He was pulled from his thoughts again when you moved to stand and he quickly mirrored your actions to stand in front of you. His arms hovered around your waist and back in order to catch you if you happened to fall again.
“Whatever happens, we just need to get you out of here as soon as possible. If we find the exit quickly, we can get you out before I completely lose it.” You turned, ready to start walking off again to explore further when Taehyung shot his hand out and caught your arm.
“Wait!” He shouted, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the white walls adorned with art that wasn’t malicious. “Will you be okay?” He asked even though he really knew the answer. You had just told him that you were going to eventually turn from who you are now to someone else- one way or the other.
You smiled at him, trying your best to reassure him but didn’t offer him a verbal answer. You slowly pulled his hand off you before you were telling him to follow you. His arm dropped back to his side slowly as he looked at your back with sad eyes.
He didn't know what hurt worse; the fact that you basically just told him ‘no’ or the fact that you didn’t say anything for him to understand because even if your eyes are just strokes of paint, they held so much in them and it twisted his gut.
Taehyung wasn’t very fond of the idea that he had to leave the peaceful atmosphere of the white gallery and go back out into the one that actively tried to kill him. His rose was safe in the zipped pocket inside his jacket as opposed to the outside pockets at his sides. He watched before he began to follow you once again.
The drastic difference between the white, bright gallery and the dark, dim, purple backlight one just from passing through a door still through him for a loop each time he went through another passageway. He stopped trying to guess what kind of room he’d be going into, because he’d probably guess wrong every time if he did.
You stayed on guard with your picture frame piece and he stood beside you-more ready to throw down with a sculpture than before- even if he still didn’t want to. He’d tell you what colors were where and lead you in directions if you asked if a certain color was around.
He briefly wondered how you managed to get around before he got there with your inability to see color, but then he stopped thinking about it because if you just went into a room that was filled with a problem- you probably just got rid of it. You were more than capable, you’ve proved that more than enough by this point.
“Taehyung,” you called from ahead of him. He had been so lost in thought his steps had slowed down and he was further back away from you than he knew. “Don’t lag behind.”
“Oh, right,” he called before he was jogging back to your side. Following you through a doorway, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to see a room that was dark with only a trunk inside of it. Walking in, you stepped up to it before you tapped it with your frame piece to see if something was inside.
There was only silence before the lid of it burst open.
You jolted, stepping in front of Taehyung as he raised his hand instinctively to maybe try and throw a punch at whatever might leap out of it, but nothing came out. The lid bounced against the back of the trunks frame. The inside of it looked like a pink cloud- it wasn’t empty, just unsettlingly pink. It was like cotton candy or maybe something thicker like thread that could trap you if you touched it.
“What-,” you started before you were yelping into direct fight or flight. The still pinkness in the trunk jolted before it shot out like sentient strings and separated into long, thick arms of darkened red that wrapped around you and Taehyung’s bodies.
Your backs were forced together and to your misfortune, your frame was knocked from your hand and clattered to the ground. The thick strands of red wrapped tightly around your midsections and squeezed as it entangled around your legs and arms and even around your forehead to keep you completely still. Immobilizing the two of you, it then started to slowly reel you in.
Your feet dragged across the ground and your toes lifted up and off the ground at some point as Taehyung was left to keep fumbling over his own feet. He wouldn’t fall no matter how tangled his feet got since he was bound and tied so tightly.
The pair of you were stopped in front of the trunk that seemed to bulge in size- like it was taking into account the size of two people before you were swallowed into the cloud of pink turned red. The sound of the trunks lid slammed above you both boomed like thunder before you were falling.
It felt weightless, but you could feel the wind rushing past you as you were sure you were coming closer to hitting the ground.
It was pitch black all around, but you felt Taehyung reach for you- now freed from the strands of red thread that had encased you both. You felt him wrap his arms around your shoulders from in front of you. His chest pushed against yours before his weight overcame your own and he was falling first in front of you.
The fall wasn’t long and it didn’t feel like enough to particularly kill a person, but when the two of you hit the ground with Taehyung bracing the fall you were quick to shoot up from his chest as he groaned laying on his back.
“Are you stupid?!” You scolded as he winced both from your shrieks and the pain of the fall. He sat up, rubbing his back as he just weakly laughed.
“Yeah, so?” Your eye twitched at his lame excuse for a joke at a time like this. As he recovered from his fall and came back to his senses that weren’t cloaked in sensitive fall-stricken shock, you looked around to where exactly you two fell.
It looked like you were pulled into a child’s coloring book. Scratchy, uneven lines of what looked to be crayon or oil chalks were used to make up houses, roads and not too far from you both was a mass of uneven, patchy blue chalk that you assumed was a lake of sorts from its size. It was dark, but it was lit with small patchy lights lining walls or suspending overhead like floating light bulbs.
You made it to your feet after you helped Taehyung, grabbing his hand and offering your shoulder for him to lean on. He graciously took it and you were quick to ask if his rose was alright. He dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to you. A petal or two were missing, but you assumed it was caused from the fall.
No wonder he hurt so much, you mentally noted with an eye roll; his rose was damaged.
You looked around and peered over the chalked created houses. Maybe if you investigated inside one of them, you’d find a vase for him to use to restore his rose petals. You hiked his arm over your shoulder for a more firm grasp on his body's weight on you.
“Alright, first things first,” you started as you got his attention. “We need to find a vase with water to get your rose to grow. That should take the pain away.” He muttered in agreement before both of you walked- ambled- off.
Walking with a body hanging off you was a lot harder than you initially though it would be. He would walk the best he could, but the injury and loss of his petals were obviously affecting him more than he was willing to let on.
The first house you both entered was a small one outlined in pink chalk and inside was just one big open room with a drawn, blue couch, a table and a coat rack. On the table was a vase, but it was empty. If it wasn’t all black and white to you, maybe you would have found the place almost charming in it’s own way- but it was just dull.
You quickly moved Taehyung to the couch and told him to stay put. Taking the vase you left the house and quickly moved down the chalked, dirt road down the lake you saw. Maybe you could put some of the fake water into the vase and just somehow make it work, who knows.
Making it to the lake, you knelt and dipped the vase into the mass of blue as it filled the vase. Your arm twitched before it was jerked and convulsed with it’s own corruption again and the vase slipped from your fingers for just a moment- but that moment was enough to lose it in the chalky blue mass of scribbles.
Without much thought, you dove into the water, quickly snatched it back and as fast as possible swam and pulled yourself out of the mass before anything that could possibly be in the lake even thought about grabbing you.
You huffed in annoyance as your clothes were dusted with chalk and even though it wasn’t real water- you felt damp. You shook out your sleeves before you got to your feet and went back to Taehyung who was waiting in the house you left him laying on the couch with heavy breaths.
When he saw you, his eyebrow quirked.
“What’re you covered in? Dust?” He asked as you just shook your head, kneeling at the couch side and replacing the vase filled with vibrant blue on the table again.
“Forget about it. Give me your rose, please.” your hand was outstretched and waiting as he quickly pulled it out and handed it to you. You hesitantly placed the stem into the water and let it sink as the blooms of the petals rested against the rim of the vase. You heard Taehyung sigh as if his pain was floating away and to your relief, two petals grew once again. “Thank goodness that actually worked,” you sighed.
Taehyung chuckled beside you. “Yeah, no kidding. That was all assumption- if that had taken more petals off, I think I would’ve passed out or something.”
“You mangled to take four petals of damager before,” you told him. “Besides, you weren’t that injured,” you told him as you took the rose back out of the vase and handed it to him to replace in his jacket. “You just don’t know how to take a fall.”
“Excuse me,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Who was the one who took the brunt of that fall, huh?” He sat up and crossed his arms like a child pouting. “A thank you would be nice to hear, you know.”
Your lips tilted in a smile as you moved to stand up and stretched your arms across your chest. You felt helpless without your frame piece that you had lost before you wound up here with the young, human artist. Looking at him like this, you wouldn’t think he’d be in as much danger as he is. He was in a whole different dimension with enemies at his back almost constantly, but here he was pouting for a ‘thank you’. You chuckled.
“Thank you, Taehyung,” you told him. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lights or maybe your vision going because of your own distorting body, but you thought you saw the blank shade of his skin to your eyes darken. Like color had possibly bloomed over his cheeks.
He cleared his throat before you could ask and he was getting up off the couch, walking to the door of the house. He was ready to leave, but stopped short. You came up behind him and opened your mouth to ask him what the problem was when he spun around and shushed you. He pushed you back and led you behind the couch, crouching down and covering you with himself as you both hid.
You had no idea what he thought he heard, but you kept quiet before you heard the door of the house you both were in squeak open. You looked at Taehyung as he looked up, focusing on listening for any indication of someone coming closer to your hiding place.
You racked your brain trying to think of what or who could be following you both. Had someone been inside the trunk before you and had seen you at the lake? You weren’t sure. You heard them pad into the house before they stopped and then a crash sounded through the walls of the room. The footsteps then walked back out of the room and the door slammed shut.
Taehyung and you stared at each other, still remaining silent for a few more moments before determining you were safe. He let out a breath as he peeked over the couch first and scanned the room. There was no one.
“It’s clear,” he whispered as he stood up and moved away from you as you stood up next to him. Your brows dipped as you saw the vase you had just used to heal Taehyung’s rose shattered into pieces with splashes of blue- grey to your eyes- dusted around the table top and blew onto the floor.
You looked at the door with a narrowed gaze. Just what was that? Could something you didn’t know about be wandering around? Then again, even you didn’t know everything there is to know about this gallery.
“I think we need to hurry,” you muttered, Taehyung quickly agreed as you both scurried out of the house. The two of you walked along the dusty, chalk paths before you were stepping up a set of stairs back into a proper gallery. It led to a section that you recognized. You started walking with ease, knowing what was where in this section and Taehyung took notice of that.
“Do you know where we are? I mean, you’ve known a good part of where we’ve been, but I mean-”
“This is my section of the gallery. My frame is hanging around here, so yes I know it.” You told him, interrupting his rambling for an answer to his question.
“Your frame?”
“Yes. You know I’m just a painting. The frame I was placed in and the frame I came out of is around here.”
“Can I see it?” He asked without much thinking before you stopped and turned to him. He almost slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else without a filter before you turned on your heel and started off around a corner. “Y/n! Wait!”
“You wanted to see my frame, didn’t you?” You popped your head back around the corner to motion him to follow after you and he did so. He trailed you- just as he had been- and eventually you took him to a deadend hall. At the end of it, on the wall facing the rest of the narrow corridor, was an empty frame. “This is it,” you told him, motioning to it with as little care as you would as if you were showing off a bag of dog food.
The frame was silver and engraved with all sorts of weaves across it. It was sturdy and not undamaged. The glass of the frame was broken; however it must’ve been broken from the inside if the evidence of the glass at his feet was anything to go by. You must have burst from the inside out and created the glass mess in front of it. The plaque under the frame read ‘Leia’ as the young artist looked back to you with wide eyes.
“You’re Leia?” He asked. At the discovery he had a pang of small guilt in his stomach from thinking earlier on that he didn’t even want to see the painting since the rest of the gallery was out for his blood. You blinked at him as you nodded simply.
“That was my title when I was created, but I was given a new name because I was granted a soul and free will within this dimension.” You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter what my art piece name is?”
“It's just that the gallery I came from was named after you,” he told you. “I guess I just never expected you to be the last piece of art from someone- not that it’s a bad thing!” He defended at the unimpressed look in your painted eyes. “It was the discovery of that painting that gave my gallery the name it has. You’re like the main centerpiece of everything.”
You looked blankly at your empty frame.
“I doubt that the ‘Leia’ in the real gallery is like me. I may be ‘Leia’, but I’m more Y/n. It sounds ridiculous, but that painting isn’t me.” You softly traced the silver frame with your fingers before you were turning around again. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. No more detours.”
Taehyung was quick to chase after you but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to you. He wanted to talk to fill the silence that gaped between the two of you. Taehyung kept telling himself that he had no reason to try and figure you out, you were a painting for God’s sake. What could he possibly want to know?
Other than everything.
He wondered about a great many things and couldn’t help but overthink what you may or may not have been through. How did you feel about this world? Did you consider it home or maybe a sort of prison you were unfortunately born into. How did this world look to your colorless eyes? Just how did it feel being a painting exactly?
When you were ‘born’ and thrust into a world that was already starting to collapse, how did you survive? Did you fight from the beginning, or not? He wanted to ask all these questions, but he knew that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to ask anyway- this world isn’t his and you weren’t even human.
Taehyung followed behind you as a feeling in his gut started to bloom. He raised his hand to his stomach and palmed it through his shirt as his steps slowed and he watched you ever so slowly get further ahead of him. He felt like he couldn’t do this without answers. So, he acted idiotically and moronically and selfishly.
Without you realizing, you got separated from Taehyung once again- only this time on purpose. The next time you turned around to check on why he was so silent, you stopped in your tracks not seeing him around you.
“Dammit,” you seethed.
-x-x-x-
Taehyung had back tracked all the way to your empty portrait frame. He stood in front of it once more as his fingers traced the letters of your plaque. The letters spelling out ‘Leia’ in fine script before he was tracing the frame itself.
He felt selfish for wanting to know about you- a painting- and keeping himself here in a world that actively tried to kill him longer than he needed to be. He scoffed at himself, his mind remembering how he had judged the artist in the book he had read before and how the artist got attached to something like a painting.
“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” he chided to himself.
He needed to go home and although he understood that, he wanted to know more about the living painting that had been protecting him up until this point. The same painting who was slowly getting infected with some weird, paint disease that could turn you against him at the drop of a pen.
He knew he was pressed for time. Time was precious, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were too.
Taehyung inspected the black emptiness of the frame that you had come from and reached his hand out. His hand jerked back when the pads of his fingers weren’t met with the sturdy wall that the frame hung on. Instead, the blackness encased by the silver frame rippled like murky water. It was like a pool of ink as he reached out to it again and started to sink his hand into it further.
He wondered how deep that ink went, how far could he reach inside before it stopped him. Could he be able to submerge himself fully into it, or maybe crawl into the frame like a painting himself.
“But then, what would that accomplish?” He questioned himself with a half-sarcastic attitude. However, even if he knew it was more than likely fruitless, he started to climb inside anyways. The frame was big, so he had no problem with grabbing the edges of the frame, lifting his leg over the bottom ledge of it and heaving himself inside the blackness.
He braced himself, feeling like it would feel like that monster from before that encased him in terror as it threatened his very life. However, this blackness wasn’t like before. It was dark and felt endless, but it lacked the deep pit of dread that the monster had. It felt like something- but he couldn’t place exactly what.
Loneliness maybe? Or perhaps a bittersweet sort of feeling; like being free, yet not being as free as a true human being. He walked around aimlessly in the blackness, feeling less and less like he was walking on the floor. He started feeling weightless, like he was walking on air.
There was clearly no end where he was, and he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted there to be. A light at the end of the tunnel? That wouldn’t apply in this situation and he knew that perfectly well. Or, he thought that would be the case. From behind him, he started to feel something close by, like the feeling of someone standing directly behind your back.
Whirling around, he saw nothing, felt no one and squinted his eyes as his ears started to pick up on some noise around. It sounded like it was echoing around from every direction, but he was still able to follow it- maybe it was because wherever he was in your frame was a directionless void.
It was nowhere and everywhere all at once.
As he walked, the blackness started to slowly light up from a greyscale and before long he was standing in a room. Like, a real room, but in this room he couldn’t touch anything. He was in a studio- covered in easels, paints, canvases, stains and tarps and cloth and everything in between.
However, if he even tried to touch something, his hand would just phase right through the object he wanted to grasp. He walked around the studio before the door to the room opened and hobbled in was an older man whose face he couldn’t see. His face wasn’t even that, it was just black scribbles where the features should have been. Static echoed around the room as he assumed that the old man was trying to speak, but the words didn’t reach Taehyung’s ears.
He walked to an easel that was covered with a white cloth before he set up his area and sat on a stool. He cleaned up some brushes, cleaned his palette and rearranged his paints to suit his needs and wants.
Taehyung watched in silence as the old man began to paint and even though there was clearly a passing of some sort of warped time, in the moment it all felt timeless. The end result was none other than your own portrait. He shouldn’t have been shocked to see your spitting image in your portrait, but he couldn’t help it.
Then the old man just turned his back, his fake face seemingly looking right at the young artist before he pointed at you. More specifically, he pointed to the white space of your canvas and Taehyung could have sworn he saw it ripple like water.
The setting of the studio began to suddenly fade out as he started hearing murmuring in the distance echoing around him. It sounded unbearably loud as he covered his ears and the studio brushed away in flakes like eraser debris.
“-yung! -hyung!” He felt like his head was about to burst as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and yank him backward. He was then tumbling out of your frame, out of the void and onto the floor of the demented gallery. “Taehyung!” Someone shouted his name above him as his eyes were blurry and he rubbed at them to try and get them to regain their focus. He blinked as his brows shot up when his eyes shot open wide.
“Namjoon?” There, above him, hovered his best friend. Taehyung quickly whipped around to his stomach before pushing off the ground and looking up to the blog journalist. “What? What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that.”
Taehyung was sure he was the only one who happened to fall into this sketched out dangerous gallery. Namjoon wasn’t even where he was left when Taehyung looked for him. He looked his friend over.
“How have you made it this far?” Taehyung was impressed. Aside from the disheveled state of his clothes with wrinkles and small beads of sweat on his brow and temple, he seemed fine.
“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” Namjoon groaned as he pulled the artist off the floor and straightened out his jacket, brushing him off. “I’ve been running around like crazy for hours looking for you.”
Taehyung was shocked and honestly glad to see a familiar face. Then you came to mind. He wondered if you were looking for him after he just decided to pull that disappearing act on you. He felt guilty about it now that his actions settled in. For all he knew, you thought he got himself caught in another dangerous situation when he was really as safe as he could be in the moment.
“Did you happen to pass by a girl? Like, our age but wearing outdated clothing.”
“Someone else? No, I didn’t. Is someone else here?”
Taehyung shook his head. “No, she’s not a person, she’s a painting and- argh forget it! It’s a long story and from the look you’re giving me, you don’t believe me in the first place.”
“How hard did you hit your head when I pulled you out of that thing?” Namjoon asked as he used his thumb to lazily point to your empty frame. Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed at his temples. He remembered the way his head spun when Namjoon started calling him before he was dragged out by the man. His head had pounded just like how it did when he was in the room with the tar monster from earlier.
He tried thinking back to the man in the studio he witness and tried putting together anything that could be used as a clue on how to get home. He seemed to obviously be pointing to something, something Taehyung couldn’t help but feel was important. “Whatever you saw,” Namjoon called his attention, “forget it. It’s probably a trap or something. You can’t trust the things here.”
“Not everything is dangerous,” Taehyung countered with you in mind. “Y/n isn’t.”
Namjoon sighed annoyed. “You don’t know that. You said ‘she’ was a painting, right? You can’t trust something like that thing.”
“Don’t call her a thing,” Taehyung growled. “She’s kept me safe up until this point. Like it or not, I trust her. We need to find her before we get attacked by something.”
“Taehyung-”
“I’m not arguing about this. Finding Y/n takes first priority.” Normally, Taehyung was more than obedient when it came to Namjoon. Not only was he older, but the sense of leadership the older held made it easy to listen. However, Taehyung didn’t feel that air of ‘need to follow’ right now around him.
“What about leaving? What about that priority?”
“She can help us. Y/n comes first,” he finalized before he was turning on his heel and going off into the direction he had fled from your side. Namjoon clicked his tongue as he reluctantly followed behind.
Logically, even Taehyung knew that you’d probably be agitated for prioritizing your location over his freedom and escape out of this place. But, the nagging in his head didn’t let him argue the topic, even with himself. He wasn’t going to just find a way to escape and not tell you goodbye at the very least.
You had done nothing but help and protect him, the least he could do was tell you thank you properly before he left. It was the right thing to do, even if a little bit foolish. He knew that.
To his luck, it didn’t take nearly all that long for him to catch a glimpse of you rushing around a corner. You were jogging around, looking to and fro for something- he knew it was him- and he was quick to start shouting at you with his arm raised in the dark halls. Namjoon stood behind his shoulder, still unhappy.
“Y/n!” He watched your head whip around as you started running towards him. As you didn’t slow down in your approach, the closer you got the more nervous he became before you skit to an abrupt halt at his toes and got up into his face, grabbing his jacket collar.
“Stop going off on your own! Are you stupid or do you want to get attacked again that badly, huh?!” You shouted in rightful anger as he felt sweat gather on his neck. He raised his hands in defense as he slightly pushed your shoulders down to gain some distance away from your rage.
“I know, I shouldn’t have run off.” You slowly released his jacket. “That was my bad and I apologize, but,” he stepped away from you and twisted to show Namjoon. “I managed to find my friend. He was in the gallery with me before I got here. This is Namjoon.”
Taehyung introduced the two of you as you just stared at the man and he stared back in a silent competition that Taehyung definitely picked up on. Clearly, there wasn’t much hope of friendship on the horizon- but he figured you’d cooperate with him so that they could get out safely. You were that kind of person- cooperative if not a bit on the stubborn side.
“You found him, huh? Where?”
“Oh, I went back to your frame and he was there.” Taehyung easily answered, deciding to keep the fact that he crawled into the frame and saw what looked like memories to himself. What if it stirred something up with you? Your mood was already foul enough, he didn’t want to risk it.
He wasn’t one to stir the pot, so to speak.
Your brow twitched at his seemingly carefree manner at his ditching stunt. You groaned as you whacked him on the arm before pointing your finger at his face in a warning manner, making him go cross eyed momentarily.
“You run off like that again, and I’ll tie your wrist to mine. Got it?”
“Promise?” He teased as you just threw your hands in the air in defeat and started walking off. He wasn’t planning on running when your back was turned again. Just that one time was enough. Now that he was with Namjoon too, he couldn’t risk being as careless. “We’re going. Come on.”
“At your beck and call, Leader,” Taehyung chided, still trying to get your spirits higher from the mood he put you in. Namjoon followed behind silently with skeptical eyes as Taehyung chatted with you like he’d known you all his life.
-x-x-x-
Taehyung had since stopped his yammering as you lead the charge of three through halls and told them when to be silent and when to be cautious. You kept a close eye on Namjoon, something about the friend of Taehyung’s rubbing you the wrong way. You couldn’t say whether or not you were a good judge of character since Taehyung was the first human you ever met, but you still felt something off. His cold glare made your artificial skin crawl.
You had just walked through an archway before Taehyung made a noise of recognition as you turned to him. He looked around with wide eyes.
“What is it?”
“I feel like I’ve been in this area before.”
“Really?” You questioned. You’d never really gone into this portion of the gallery. It was always too dark to see and you were always put off by how quiet it was. It was like there was something on the other side of the walls that irked you. “Maybe you passed by here before I found you. I’ve never been in this part before.”
“You haven’t been here? I thought you had been everywhere.” Taehyung wasn’t accusing you, he was just curious. He wanted to know why you hadn’t been here.
“I had no reason to be,” you told him. “Besides, I don’t think a creature like me who’s slowly corrupting belongs in a tranquil part of this place.”
“So,” Namjoon finally intervened from behind the two of you. You both turned to look at his cross-armed figure, still glaring and fuming with some odd sense of presence you hated. “You admit you’re dangerous?”
Your brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You said you’re corrupting. So? That sounds like a red-flag if I’ve ever heard one.”
“I’m sorry,” you scoff in disbelief, “has it been you getting Taehyung through this place in one piece? Or maybe it was you who has been taking down threats left and right and going on wild goose chases when things go south. No?”
“Guys-” Taehyung tried dispersing the stifling air, but Namjoon’s ire interrupted him. You both went back and forth and before long you were at Namjoon’s toes, arguing with him face to face- quite literally. Taehyung watched as he tried to think of a way to calm you both down. The last thing he wanted was to both waste time and have the two sides of his trust arguing against each other.
Taehyung was going to open his mouth and shout or something, just to break the string of tension, but his jaw had just dropped when you had stopped mid-sentence. Your hand was raised, an accusatory finger pointed at his best friend’s chin when it started to drop just a fraction to his chest.
“Y/n?” Taehyung called. He shrieked when your hand came to grip his chin, squeezing his jaw as you yanked Namjoon’s face down to look into his eyes. “Woah! Y/n, c-calm down!” You narrowed your eyes before you shoved him away, making his feet stumble back a handful of steps to keep himself upright. Taehyung came to your side as you shook your hand as if it was contaminated. He looked you over and noticed the uneasy look on your face. “What’s-”
“Why are you sticking to that painting like glue?” Namjoon called to Taehyung as he rubbed his jaw. “I’m your friend here, not that.” Taehyung looked up and towards the journalist with confliction.
“T-that’s true, but-”
“But nothing. That thing just grabbed and shoved me, but you’re at it’s side like I did something wrong. You should be checking on me, not fawning over that.” He pointed at you, his eyes grew small in anger as you just shot back at him a silent glare.
Taehyung was less than pleased to keep hearing Namjoon refer to you as ‘it’ or a ‘thing’. Painting or not, you were still alive and, dammit, Namjoon needed to accept that already. He was ready to tell him off, defend you when you spoke first in a low tone.
“Do you trust me?” You asked. You were looking dead at Namjoon, but the artist knew you were addressing him. You repeat the question when you’re met with only silence. Taehyung immedately nodded when the question was repeated.
“Yeah, of course I do.”
“WHY?!” He jumped from Namjoon’s shriek across from the two of you. Your shoulders squared and the action didn’t go unnoticed. “Why trust something you just met?! Who is admitting to killing things and slowing losing its mind?!” His brought his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. “You should be trusting me!”
“What is wrong with you,” Taehyung whispered in concern, wondering what happened to his best friend. He was normally the type to roll with anything, even in stressful situations he always tried to take it with a grain of salt. He was an optimist, or at least he always tried to be. No matter the dark tunnel, there’s always a light; it was basically Namjoon’s life motto. “Did something happen? Stop accusing Y/n and just talk to-” he gasped when he felt your hand grasp his. Your face was downcast as you squeezed his palm. “Y/n?”
You whipped your head up and looked at him dead in the eyes. “We have to run.” Taehyung jolted back. Run? From what? You looked back at Namjoon, your colorblind eyes slowly unveiling just who and what that best friend of Taehyung’s was. “We need to get away from him as soon as possible. He’s dangerous.”
“What?” Taehyung was in instant denial. Namjoon? Dangerous? The same Namjoon who would cry if one of his plants died or would lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling if someone asked him what his favorite brand of pen is for the hundredth time? “That’s not true, he’s-” Taehyung looked at his best friend to defend him, but stopped short.
Something about him was off. Taehyung had noticed it since the beginning, but dismissed it all. Now, it looked like some veil of black was hovering around his friend’s body as he glared at you. Namjoon didn’t look like himself. He looked fake and at that, Taehyung’s eyes widened.
He looked artificial- just like how you did to his human eyes.
You must have seen it in his eyes, that’s why you grabbed his chin to inspect him further. That’s why you shoved him away and that’s why you wanted Taehyung to flee.
Your hand dropped his as you caught sight of the thing disguised as Taehyung’s friend moving just slightly. You stepped in front of the artist before you took off before ‘it’ could. It lunged and you were quick to react. You lifted your foot and slammed it into it’s stomach as it leaned forward- not at the lack of air, but the force you put into your stomping. You locked your arm around the back of its neck as you tucked it’s head under your arm and held it in place in a lock.
You groaned as you felt your arms burn with contamination again and your grip almost loosened at the paintings thrashing because of it. You planted your feet as firmly as you could, even if the thrashing made you teeterd from your heels to your toes and skid an inch back or forward here and there.
You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the thing under your arm contained and although you had just told Taehyung not to leave your side again, you were ready to tell him to run off and hide somewhere until you could find him.
The moment you turned your head on your shoulders to shout for him to do so, you halted to see him literally at your back already. His large hands had planted themselves one on your back to steady you and the only ensnared in the fake Namjoon’s clothed back, gripping it’s clothes firmly. Even the fabric felt like paint under his nails as he started to rip the thing away from you.
Taehyung caught sight of the fake’s face and what used to be identical to Namjoon had muddled away to show a white tar surface with no sense of expression. He sneered as he took your place of taking it on before he was shoving it backward.
Although he wasn’t a fighter, Taehyung was no push over. He could hold his own if he really ended up needing to and at the moment, he did. He pushed the fake as it stumbled on it’s own clumsy feet before it started to go after him again. Taehyung swung his elbow out, cathing the fake in the whiteness of it’s face before it hit the ground.
He backed up away from the thing he just put on the ground, turning to you and snatching your hand in his again.
Taehyung’s hand squeezed yours and when he did, you spun on your heels and took off, fleeing with the young artist beside you. You both heard ‘Namjoon’ scream behind your backs as Taehyung looked back to see it still laying on the floor, skriming.
Taehyung was terrified, more terrified than he was before. He was terrified on how it gained his trust so easily- a thought that almost made him angry. He felt stupid as he held onto your hand like a linelife as you weaved through the halls and soon came to a staircase.
You stopped as you looked over your shoulder as Taehyung buckled to his knees and heaved after sprinting for so long. He used the wall to support himself as you looked at him trying to gather his breath.
You looked at your hand in his and attempted to pull it away from him, but he just squeezed tighter onto you and tugged it back.
“A little longer,” he whispered. After a few minutes of him gathering himself and you making sure you both weren't followed, he stood back to his height and continued to hold you hand. “Hey,” he called with a tight throat. “If we run into anyone else, if you don’t trust them, tell me and I won’t either.” You didn’t say a word to try and deter him from using your judgement as his own, you simply nodded in agreement.
If all worked out, he wouldn’t need to use your opinions for much longer. You were going to get him out.
The two of you ascended the staircase before you and when you reached the top, Taehyung looked around to see the spitting image of the original gallery.
The white walls and matching floors and ceilings. The chandeliers that weren’t on with the power out and the windows all greyed out as if they were blocked by cement. The front doors were locked as if there was no escape. Trying a switch, he wasn’t shocked to see the lights not working.
“Can you lead from here,” you asked him, just trying to get him to talk again. “I don’t know my way around.” He only nodded before he was walking off, tugging you in tow as you thought of ways to make his voice come out again. You felt oddly uneasy when he was silent. The previous incident with the fake friend of his obviously taking a mental toll on him. It was to be expected, but it still hurt your chest.
If you had a beating heart, you’d call this feeling heartache.
It was when you passed by a rather mundane looking couch that was suclupted in a strange, wavey shape when you figured out a way to get him to talk. You stopped and your hand in his anchored him when he looked over his shoulder. When he looked at you, you pointed to the sofa surrounded in rope dividers.
“What colors is that?” You asked when you looked back at him. Your actions and unspoken desire to get his voice to come out didn’t go unnoticed-
He smiled. “It’s red,” he told you.
-Nor did it go unappreciated.
From that, he would tell you the colors of whatever you pointed at that you passed and before he knew it he had come to a deadend with only one, giant painting on the wall- taking up the entire space of it. His mouth opened as his hand dropped from yours as he looked at it.
“That’s,” he looked at it as his eyes ran over every edge. “That looks like the gallery. The real one,” he smiled as he gazed at it. This was it, his way out. He felt in his bones that this was his exit. His hand reached to touch the canvas, but gasped when his hand just phased right through. It was just like how your frame was. He could climb into this and be somewhere else.
Then he felt a chill run down his spine and a heavy feeling fall in his gut. He pulled his hand back as he turned around and looked at you. You were well behind him against the back wall, your hands behind your back as you watched him.
“What?” You asked. This was his way out and you both knew it. You expected him to jump on through and finally be free of this hellscape, but instead he made his way back to you and away from his exit door disguised as a painting. He stood in front of you, toe to toe as he looked at you.
Taehyung gazed at you, his eyes began to sting as they felt misty. This was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous. How could he cry about leaving you behind when he just met you? You didn’t belong in his world and he knew that just as much as you. Yet, the feeling of parting ways with you made his throat tight.
“I’m leaving,” he told you. “And I won’t ever see you again,” he choked. You were shocked to see the first tear run down his face. You wondered if tears were blue. You brushed it away with the back of your hand as more just kept coming. He could see the distortion on your skin under your sleeve from the angle of you wiping his tears and he just wanted to cry more.
His mind started becoming delusional.
If he chose not to leave and stayed put with you, would you hurt him? Would you hunt him down in time and kill him like the others had before? Would he lose his humanity even? Turn into a painting and spend the rest of his time with you. You wouldn’t be alone if he did. What if he tried to take you back with him? Would you just disintegrate into paint splotches because you had no physical body to speak of?
So many hypotheticals and you wouldn’t allow any of them to come to fruition.
“Go home, Taehyung,” you told him softly with a smile, the hand you placed on his cheek rubbed his skin before letting it softly fall. You urged him, not commanded him and he knew he had to go. He sniffled as he grabbed your hands and held them again. “What, you want a hug goodbye or something?” You teased but when he didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes. “You do, don't you?”
“And? What about it,” he sniffed as he pouted. You pulled your hands away from his, even if he chased after them when you did. You swatted at his hands that tried grabbing yours once more.
“Do you want me to hug you or not?” You asked in impatience while he nodded like a child. “Then let my hands go.” He immediately abandoned your hands and wrapped his arms under your own and pulled you to your toes against his chest. You felt your chest hit his with a dull thud as he held you like you were dying.
Well, you sort of were, but he didn’t need the finer details repeated on your unavoidable fate.
He started swaying you on your toes as he found a home on your shoulder. One of your hands was on his head, shushing him and the other pat his back between his shoulders. He really was like a giant child. Was this what a goodbye hug felt like? It felt nothing like the hug he gave you when he was attacked previously and reunited with him. This one felt much more sad- desperate even.
“Teahyung,” you whispered as you felt him hum against your shoulder. “You need to go.”
“I know,” he admitted before he started to pull away from you when your hands moved to land on his shoulders to push him softly. His eyes looked swollen and wondered what color the skin around his eyes were. It looked darker to your black and white vision. “I think- I think I’m going to miss you. A lot.”
You brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it as you smiled at him.
“You’ll forget a painting like me in no time,” you eased. He frowned at that, wanting to hug you again, but you just pushed him away. Turning him by his shoulders, you started to push him from behind to the frame before you came to his side. You gestured towards it. “Home is waiting for you.”
He swallowed another large lump in his throat. He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from crying anymore. He was so overly emotional and he was annoying himself because of it. He could only imagine how you felt watching his waterworks.
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“I’m going back to my frame,” you told him. “I’ll go back to my home too,” you smiled. He felt a small sliver of relief at your answer. “We’ll both go back to where we belong, just as he should. It’ll be okay.” You pat his back. “I promise.” You felt bad, lying straight to his face like that.
He nodded before he grabbed the inside of the frame, and began to hull himself over. He had one knee resting on the frame edge and the other still hanging out when he turned and looked down at you hovering above you on the wall. He reached in his jacket and pulled out his rose before he handed it to you. It was a silent agreement as he passed it onto you- he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore. You’d keep it safe even if he wasn’t there anymore and he knew you would.
He put on his brightest smile, “see you around, Y/n,” before he jumped completely through.
As his body faded into the stretched, painted fabric of the canvas and the frame seemed to close like a locked portal that you couldn’t ever even think about passing through, you fell to the ground, screaming as your body felt like it was on fire.
You laughed bitterly as you were just relieved that the one precious person you managed to meet in your miserable existence as a painting without a future was someone as kind and warm as Taehyung.
-x-x-x-
Taehyung felt dazed.
He was staring at a plaque as his eyes were bleary like he had just woken up from a long nap. He felt like yawning before he felt a shake on his shoulder. He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.
“Hey,” Namjoon called with concern written on his face, “what’s with you? You zoned out for like two minutes.”
“I dunno,” he replied. He moved to look at the giant painting of a black location with messy brushes of what looked like some haunted locations. “I feel like I just woke up from a really nap.” He yawned as he read the name of the painting loud to himself. “Parallel Reality,” the words read and they sounded familiar to him. “I feel like I'm forgetting something,” he frowned. “Didn’t the lights go out a little while ago or something?”
“Dude,” Namjoon’s hand fell from his friend’s shoulder. “You really need to get some proper sleep if you’re taking micro-naps, standing up, around this many people and dreaming about power-outages.” It was only then that the artist was aware of all the sounds around him- buzzing from every corner of the building.
“I don’t wanna hear that from the reigning champ of disarranged sleep schedules.”
The journalist and young, free-lance artist continued walking around the blinding white gallery. People crowded the place and the murmur of them all talking in whispers comforted Taehyung for a reason he couldn’t exactly explain.
He and Namjoon had started down the final hall they had left to view. The sme hall that happened to contain the naming right to the gallery in the first place. At the end of the hall, hanging on the dead-end wall was the one painting called ‘Leia’. The piece Taehyung came to see specifically to see if he could be sprung out of his art-block.
As he stood in front of the painting, he inspected it.
It was a young woman dressed in dated clothes with her eyes looking off to almost mimic looking off the canvas. Her legs were coiled in thorns and she looked like she was running from something, but with a protective sense and not a fearful one. She held a blue rose in her hand as the silver, engraved frame encased the painting.
The piece wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow looking at the piece, he felt calm despite the action set formed in brush strokes. As the tour guide in charge of 'Leia’ began to explain how it was the artist’s last piece, Taehyung began to zone out again, while Namjoon scribbled down notes beside him.
As she yammered on and on, Namjoon soon caught sight of his friend’s face. He stopped his writing as he lifted his pen up and lowered his arm to tuck it away in his pocket,. When his hand was free of any writing utensil, he placed it on Taehyung’s back.
“Hey,” he whispered softly to not gain attention from the other’s standing around them. “Why are you crying?”
Taehyung jolted as he quickly brought his hands to his face.
He was crying.
When did he start and why? He wiped them away only for more to follow through. He was soon silently hunched over sobbing. Why did he feel this way by looking at a painting? Art had always given him a sense of emotion- but he hadn’t felt such sorrow before.
“I don’t know,” he whimpered as Namjoon took him to some place less crowded. As Taehyung calmed down, he felt oddly refreshed.
“You okay now? I’ve got enough notes for an entry if you want to leave.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to go home and paint,” he announced as Namjoon smiled, happy to see a spark behind Taehyung’s eyes return. The spark of an artist that had finally overcome his art-block.
“Alright, then let’s get going.” As the two men walked out, reception bidding them farewell, Namjoon started making conversation. “So, what do you want to paint?”
“I’m not sure, but maybe a blue rose garden or something. Paired with something old fashioned, like outdated clothing or old picture books. I’ll figure it out when I get to my studio.”
He didn’t voice it, but he knew he’d be back to view ‘Leia’ again, and this time he wouldn’t cry. The calmness he felt from the painting- regardless of his tears- was like being reunited with an old friend.
What kind of man would Taehyung be if he cried in front of a friend?
-END-
#btsboulangerie#btsbookclub#btswriterscollective#bangtanidx#kim taehyung#taehyung#kim#v#bts v#bts#bts kim taehyung#bts taehyung#taehyung au#artist au#artist taehyung#artist v#au#bts au#bangtan au#bangtan#reader#x reader#reader insert#female reader#female#taehyung x reader#taehyung x reader au#v x reader#v x reader au#alternate universe
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Finally got around to continue on with our universe. Forgive me for my procrastination 😏.
- Rex has this cute, boyish crush on Ms.Tano awww,
- Cody might once or twice call out Mr.Kenobi on his bullshit essay assignment lol (he still thinks it's his fav teacher tho),
- Yoda as a principal omg yes?!,
- like most of the time students and teachers don't know what he is talking about during school assemblies, is he being too philosophical or is Mr.Yoda just straight up high 😂,
- Din becoming a new superintendent of the school district? Honey, that's an amazing idea, duh,
- Now he dresses up to work in this nice, sleek suits, (probably provided by Boba),
- You enjoy this look on him,
- He'd still pull up to his office in this besr up truck of his tho,
- Now you and Din work even closer, given your position in social work,
- So... Office sex? 🥵,
- Din sometimes taking Grogu to his office, letting him wreck havoc while in there , renaming the files on his computer to gibberish and doodling little froggies on his documents,
- You are basically Din's assistant at this point, because he doesn't know how to be organized 😂,
- He'd still visit his old class because he misses his precious kiddos,
- omg Grogu carrying his Mr.Froggers in this cute little, clear backpack, hell yes,
- Din won't abuse his newly given authority, always staying humble and still carrying about children's education and well-being (this is peek bde right there, C'mon, let him finally bring Mandalore to its former glory),
- Rex asking Ms.Tano if she could join them for the library story time,
- Din the tiddiy man to the rescue!
- You won't ever be able to complain about pain in sensitivite breasts during your periods or pregnancy, because his big, warm hands all always ready to take gentle care of the tiddies,
- Omg, Din losing his composure because of your milk factory, he'd love to keep you pregnant for the rest of your lives lol,
- Paz work out routine always ending up in some kind of wrestling with you,
- He'd walk shirtless around the house, flexing his ripped muscles, because he loves how it makes you flustered, cheeky bastard,
- and of course his gray sweats™ deliciously hugging his thighs and other curves 🥵,
- he'd try to teach you some type of arm to arm combat for the self defense purposes,
- but your lessons don't last long,
- his size!kink going berserk when your delicate hands try to overpower him,
- he'd just simply manhandle you onto the floor lol,
- Boba won't admit that out loud, but he loved when you once put your hand around his throat while you were riding on his dick,
- He's dom through and through, obviously,
- But letting his princess take a lead?,
- he'd try to put your hands around his throat from time to time, until you catch on that,
- but don't get too carried away,
- once you slapped his ass,
- let's say he wasn't amused at all,
- ''Princess having grabby hands? Let me show you how it is done'',
- you weren't able to sit straight for the next few days
Sorry, again I went all over the place with those but I hope everyone will enjoy them anyways - 🐣
Its fine darling, I took a break from asks yesterday anyway! 💕
Office sex with Din you say?
Imagine walking into his office in a pencil skirt, and you are talking business but Din is just staring at how fucking perfect your thighs look in that skirt
And how your tits pull at your button down shirt
The next thing you know he's kissing you and locking the door, before wrestling you on his very cluttered and unorganized desk
If everybody didn't hear you, they definitely heard Din and incessant praising of your outfit and body
Now, Din doesn't even know how to understand principal Yoda most of the time, and the dude was there when HE was in school
All the kids have bets going on how old Yoda truly is, but he won't tell anyone
Rex having a crush on his favorite teacher? 1200/10 great idea
Rex totally got ecstatic when she showed up to library story time, and he pulled her down to sit with him
Cody totally teases him for it, but Rex shoots back about Mr. Kenobi and Cody just turns red and walks away
Imagine spending a whole weekend help Din organize his office, only to walk in on like a Thursday afternoon and find Grogu sitting at the desk doodling on papers and a bunch of files scattered on the ground while Din sits on his couch that he has and is reading over things
You'd be so mad and yell at both of them
Grogu's frog is now Mr. Froggers, thats its name
Now we talked about Din and your tiddies, but what about you and Paz's tiddies?
Paz just going about his workout routine shirtless, and the whole time he just knows that you are ogling his chest and arms, flushed and ready to pounce on him
Paz lifting weights? You're watching his thighs flex the entire time his doing squats
And when he's bench pressing, if your not watching hits arms you're staring at the delicious outline in those grey sweats that you can't decide if you love or hate
Joining Paz for his after workout shower, only for him to add to the work out by slamming you into the wall and doing some hip thrusts 😉😉
And Paz trying to teach you some self defense? Man gets so turned on, especially when you land a good punch on him (he loves a good strong and confident partner)
The first time you actually pin him down, he has you flipped and is wrestling you hard from behind as a reward for doing so good, and because you had made him achingly hard
Boba with a choking kink you say?
The first time you did it, it was on accident as you were cumming and you just needed to grab something, you were aiming for his shoulder but in your bliss you missed
When you squeezed slightly Boba was shocked at how much he actually enjoyed it
After that he'd start grabbing your wrist and putting your hand on his throat, but if you squeezed to hard or tried to take control he would grip your wrist roughly as a warning
The one time you smacked is ass, he just growled at you flipping you over whispering what you said in your ear, before wrestling with you the roughest that he ever has
Oh but imagine, sitting on Boba's lap at a club, he's talking business and you're tipsy and horny as all fuck so you move and straddle his leg and start rubbing yourself against him slowly trying to get his attention
Boba just acts like this is normal, placing one hand on your waist, while it was very obvious that the person he was talking to got thrown off guard
That night when you finally get home, Boba wrestles you into bed telling you that you are such a needy little one
Anyway, I got carried away here, woops 🤷♀️
(SEND ME THOTS!!!)
#🐣 anon#modern au#din djarin x reader#din x reader#boba fett x reader#boba x reader#paz vizsla x reader#paz x reader
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