#the worst offenders are characters with yellow or red eyes
Text
What the fuck is up with the "blue eyes theory" thing I see everywhere on insta literally none of them look good. I get that it's supposed to make a character look more attractive and/or intimidating but it. does not. at all.
#the worst offenders are characters with yellow or red eyes#they ALWAYS look awful. it NEVER suits them#ESPECIALLY YELLOW.#also im pretty sure half of these people arent even doing it right#i think its only supposed to be a glowing light blue and not the deep blue a lot of ppl seem to go for fsr#cant even do the damn 'theory' right#i genuinely do not get why people like this#the only ones that are even close to looking decent are the ones that... barely change...#like characters with teal eyes & stuff#and even then they look much better with their og eye color#listen i dont usually complain about stuff like this bc in the end its all harmless#but im tired and sleep deprived and kinda stressed bc of irl stuff and i want to be a hater for just a bit. a tiny bit.#anyway thats all im annoyed and tired and im gonna go do. not complaining stuff now#xander rambles
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
meet cut(e) | jason todd
the worst thing about love (two) / (one)
you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.
tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me
only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)
You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.
“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom.
First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.
Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.
Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol.
Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.
Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.
“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.
“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.
“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole.
“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.
“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?” Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel.
“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.
“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”
You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.
He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.
“You can have some coffee, you know.”
“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.
“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.
“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.
“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.
You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.
You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.
“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.
Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.
He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.
“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums.
~
You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’.
Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.
~
A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.
It feels like all you see lately.
Are the nightmares getting worse?
Lie.
Stayin’ out of trouble?
Lie.
Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?
Lie.
Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.
You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.
His death isn’t reported on the news.
Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.
Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter.
His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him.
Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.
oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!
with love, bugsy
#series: the worst thing about love#love-bugsy#jason todd x reader#jason todd fic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd reader insert#x reader
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
Winter Splashes
Genre: Pure Fluff (with like a drop of angst)
↳ Writer Reader x Painter Taehyung AU
Words: 14k
Summary: Being a writer is a difficult job - you have daunting deadlines to meet, new characters to develop and constantly seek out bundles of inspiration. However, this profession also demands that you go with the flow, a simple phrase that morphs into a much bigger business issue when your book sales are on the verge of disappearing. It doesn't help that you're thrown a major curve-ball, one that leaves you asking a very ominous question:
✒ How are you supposed to write about romance?
The large brown table has a mountain of colours spewed on it, ranging from hard-covered to soft-covered, light laughs to deep wails, a short stack of words with sharp statements to a long flow of words that could have imaginations whisked away. The bound pages each have different illustrations depicted, their sheer volume only seeming to be endless when another array of them starts to form right below the table. Among all this, two words are engraved with a swirl into each of them and it’s a name that never fails to raise a hearty smile.
“Y/N L/N.”
The man on the other end repeats in the midst of your thoughts, your eyes trailing along with every book he takes out of the cardboard box. His brows are furrowed whenever he leans down, brown locks falling down onto his eyes and flush lips stretched out in wonder. He glances over at you with wide eyes from where you’re seated in the corner, the forecasted dreamy look you hold immediately vanishing into bewilderment. “There’s seriously a lot of them now.”
With a smile, you nod as he places the last batch underneath the table and turns to face you, “All of them did well in the market too.” He picks up a black book with dark purple and red swirls lining the cover, clouds of smoke in the background of a woman who holds a horrific expression, “Even after you created this,” Another book meets his hands, this time with hues of pink, blue and yellow splashed on the surface, a multitude of flowers scattered on the surface, “And then this.”
A chuckle escapes you, springing up from your seat with a cherry grin.
“Well, you know what they say!” You point a cheesy finger at him, placing a powerful hand on your hip like you were some kind of superhero, “The biggest risks will always lead to the best results.”
“Or the worst results.” He pursues his lips, “But you have managed to tackle a lot of genres in your writing, I’ll say that much.”
You stroll closer, eyes dramatically wide and mouth agape, “Was that a….compliment?”
He whips around, appearing offended. “Hey! I’ve given you plenty of compliments before.”
“You said my last book was ridiculous and that I wasn’t allowed to turn the main character into a fish.”
“Because that was ridiculous! Why would you even write something like that?!”
“It’s unique! You know, the good ol’ being interesting enough to read more?” You smirk, leaning towards him with suspicious eyes, “Are you sure you’re an actual editor, Jin?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes, placing the book in his hands down with a sigh, “I’m just saying that maybe you could try writing something simple this time around. Something without all the plot twists and weird revelations.”
You narrow your eyes, not yet ready to budge until he glares at you in exasperation, “Hm, Fair enough. So what’s hot on the market?”
You eagerly eye him, aware of his tendency to keep tabs on what the current status of the highest selling books were.
“There’s been a demand for something else recently.” His voice grows wary and you raise an eyebrow, following after him as he brings over a sealed box you’ve haven’t seen before. He slices through the tape and begins taking out the paper packaging, revealing a new set of books that don’t carry your signature.
“What is this?” You probe, picking one up that has an intricate image of a boy and a girl with glittering golden and silver eyes. “A werewolf story?”
Jin hums, “There’s other ones too.”
The books go flying from the box as you toss them out, taking one quick glance before allowing it to meet the pile you’re forming on the table. There’s covers depicting snow with a vampire, an image of a stethoscope, another of a basketball court, and heck, even one with the premise of two people switching bodies. You stare at Jin perplexed, not grasping onto how these random titles were going to be helpful to you.
He leans back, resting himself on the perch of the table. He smiles like he knows something you don’t ‒ a gesture that has you nearly pestering him for an answer until he finally speaks.
“How do you feel about romance?”
“The genre?” He nods, “I don’t know, I guess it’s nice? It’s cute and all, and that-”
He continues to smile and there’s something about it that’s unintentionally connected to the dots for you.
You’ve made up your mind already, “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s romance!” You raise up your hands in exasperation, but Jin just stares at you, not understanding the big deal, “You know, people gushing and giggling over each other for an entire book. Who wants to read something like that??”
“This is coming from someone that wrote about a guy turning into a fish.”
“It was unique!” You chime in again, but Jin simply sighs and slides over the books you had previously yanked out.
“It’s not what the market wants though, Y/N. All of these books went on to become popular just for being in the genre.” He attempts to reason, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I still think you should give it a shot.”
Your lips set into a firm line, gaze drifting over to the atrocious covers that Jin’s lined up on the table.
You suppose it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, you’ve been through writing spurts, endlessly crafting out fantasy words in efforts of making it through the deadlines you’re faced with. You’ve faced the mixture of stress and adrenaline, desperately pushing yourself to keep going even if your tank of fuel is failing on you. You’ve spent the long hours of digging your nose into hours of research, familiarising yourself with something out of your comfort zone just for the sake of making your writing better.
But...romance?
A genre you’ve skimmed over in hopes of creating something else, a genre that you’ve barely given a second glance because…...well…
You research things. You try to improve things. And the best way to improve, is totry…...
Even though you have no clue what you’re getting yourself into.
“I don’t know…” You quietly mumble, fiddling with the bottom of your sweater. “What if it sucks?”
“You’ll never know unless you try.” Jin offers, but it doesn’t take away the unsettling feeling in your stomach from just thinking about it. He simply stares as you grow silent, letting out a sigh.
Reaching over to grab a familiar coat, he tosses it over your head. You immediately react, flabbergasted by the sudden flying article of clothing.
“What was that for?!”
“Come on.” He slides his arms through a brown one with a knowing smile, “You work based on inspiration,” He glances around the dusty office, nearly packed with opened cardboard boxes and books, “and I don’t think you’ll get much from here.”
You grin, slipping on the rough material instantly.
***
The streets are bustling, packed with crowds of people huddled together. They’re surrounded by cream coloured skyscrapers from a far distance, rows of bare oak trees lining the roads. The scent of fresh winter lingers in the air, newly arrived after the scattering of orange and red leaves on the ground.
You fist your hands up, a cheer erupting from your throat. A hand suddenly pushes through, covering your mouth.
“Why are you screaming?” Jin asks in exasperation, staring at you in disbelief when you still continue despite his attempts at halting you.
You pry his hand off, “I haven’t been outside in so long!!” You instantly run off, bumping into some civilians with no care and then giving them a cheeky wink when they glare at you. Jin rushes forward, grabbing onto you again.
He sighs, stuffing his icy hands into his coat pockets, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be a writer, not a hermit.”
“You can’t have both, Jin.” You remind him, “Plus I’ve spent hours working on my deadlines so I’m in need for some fu-Ooh! Look!”
He whirls around to see you dashing over a pile of leaves in the corner, diving headfirst into them before he can stop you. Giggles escape you as Jin can’t help but smile a bit at the display too. However, that’s when he remembers why he even offered to bring you out inside, leaning over to grasp onto your arm.
“Alright, come on Miss. Tree Lover.” He helps you up, quirking an eyebrow at the leaves currently trapped and poking out of your hair. You instantly brush them out, following him around.
“Well?” He says with hopeful eyes as you take in the busy area.
“Well what?”
“Really?” He ponders, leaning closer, “No crazy amounts of inspiration yet?”
“That’s not how it works!” You chide, “It takes more than that, you know? I gotta have a type of feeling.”
“A type of feeling?”
You roll your eyes at his obvious sarcasm, “Yeah, like I see something and the urge to write just‒”
Your eyes spark up at a particular store and before you know it, you’re yanking Jin to come along with you.
“What is it??”
“Look!” You point over to the shop burgeoning with hard bound books. Planting your hands against the window, the glass fogs with the warmth you radiate as you peer inside, seeing countless of titles you recognize.
“Aren’t those…?” Jin whispers from behind you, a huge dreamy smile crossing your lips.
“Yeah.” You glance at the familiar works in front of you, eyes carefully watching people that walk across the selves. A particular group huddled in the corner catches your attention right away, one of them flicking through pages you’ve probably dispensed part of your soul into.
She pauses at one page, eyes starting to focus in and appearing intrigued. Her lips have thinned out, lost in thought even with the group near her talking amongst themselves.
You know that look.
The excitement in your eyes instantly shifts into tenderness, simply content with watching someone hold curiosity in them from your words.
But the perfect mirage cracks.
“Hey guys, check this one out!”
The girl immediately spins around, shuffling over to view the alluring title her friend has pulled out. However, in the midst of this, the familiar hard bound pages are instantly discarded, plopped back onto the shelf without another single glance.
Your smile falls, eyes tingeing with dismay. You can only watch from afar as she swipes through new material, her attention grasped unlike before.
Sight lingering down, you recognize the type of literature she holds. It only contributes more to your sorrow, left hopelessly gazing at the genre you’ve strayed extremely far from.
Jin is silent from behind you, noticing that your immediate cheerfulness has disappeared within seconds. He’s still silent when you turn to him in disappointment, muttering the words he’s been trying to drill in your head since this morning.
“I think….I’ll give it a shot.”
He hums, gesturing for you to leave. “Just try your best, and don’t force yourself.”
You nod, following after him once you’ve managed to tear your vision away from the scene. Although you’ve come down to the resolve he’s wanted, it doesn’t help at all to take away the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.
***
You already have a concept in your hands. Now all you gotta do is write it.
How hard can it be?
Within the span of ten minutes, soft thugs begin to resonate through the room. You lull you head over and over again against the surface of your table, deep exhausted sighs leaving your body.
Did you really say how hard can it be? Did the you of ten minutes ago actually think this was easy?!
Sinking back into your chair, you stare at the blank document with empty eyes. It hasn’t moved an inch in that time frame and neither have you.
Romance ‒ that’s it. Just write a story about two people falling for each other and seal the deal with a pretty looking bow.
But then why are you still stuck staring at the screen?
A groan of defeat leaves your lips and you slump against your desk. A brown-haired individual pokes by your door, raising an eyebrow.
“All good?” Jin asks. You barely move your head, an indecipherable murmur releasing from your throat.
“I see…” He hums at the answer, straightening up and leaning against the frame, “If you’re that stuck, why don’t you do some research about it? You usually like that, right?”
At the sound of the suggestion, your head immediately whips back with a hopeful glint in your eyes. Jin conceals his laughter as you start rapidly typing on your keyboard, taking that as an indication to leave you be as he goes back to editing your recent stories.
Meanwhile, you’re having the time of your life.
Of course! Research! The saving grace in a writer’s world!
You’ve done it countless times before. Whether it was about being knowledgeable in understanding the mechanics of worldbuilding, to figure out the basic meanings of things you’ve previously had no clue about.
However, the aspect you’re not accustomed to is your screen filling up with random articles.
“How to tell if you’ve met your lifetime soulmate?” You narrow your eyes, “Ten ways of getting your crush to like you back…?”
You scroll through, coming across more strange suggestions that give you zero insight for your current situation. Frowning, you wonder if you’re not searching hard enough ‒ until your eyes are left staring at the small advertisement in the corner of the screen.
“Check out the latest kdrama’s here….?” Hovering your mouse over the link, a broad spectrum of shows flood your eyes instantly. There’s a range of story types and titles, but what catches your interest the most is the tagline.
In need for some romance? Heal the woes of your lonely heart here then!
You lean back, staring at the shows. You suppose it won’t hurt to check one of them out, after all, it could give you the details you’ve been searching for.
Making up your mind, you commit the mistake of watching the first episode of a series.
***
Jin rubs his sore eyes, letting out a low yawn. He’s been unpacking more and more boxes from the publisher, carefully organizing them based on genre for the past couple of hours. After that horrendous task, he has decided to go through the latest story you’ve handed over to him, vision glued to his monitor as he highlights and circles places of improvement.
He doesn’t want to take the harsh approach, but it goes without saying that your writing has been a little lacking these days. Usually he lets you do your thing and he does his own as long as you meet the deadlines, but he wonders if you’ve sacrificed the caliber in your writing in exchange.
It isn’t terrible as you would probably take it. It still follows the unique concept trend you’ve focused on for so long. However, there seems to be something missing, something he can’t quite pinpoint even after going through pages and pages.
With a sigh, he squeezes his heavy eyes shut for a moment before narrowing in onto the screen again. But his thought process is snatched away with a loud thud, and he instantly raises his head, wondering if a book has perhaps fallen down.
Surprisingly, nothing’s fallen.
Glancing around, he can only ponder until a boisterous laugh echoes through the walls, closely followed with prolonged wails. He slowly rises from his seat, following the intense sound as the frequency increases.
He comes to a pause in front of your door, knocking softly. “Y/N?”
Instead of words, he greeted to a chain of sobs. Twisting the knob to your office, he pokes his head in.
“Y/N? Are you ok‒”
To his defence, your office looks exactly how he has initially left it. But now it’s completely dark save for the subdued corner in the room, where you lie wrapped around with a blanket. Your eyes are glued to the bright source of light in the room, namely your computer screen, and there’s a bag of popcorn alongside a box of tissues right next to you. Aside from the strange position, your cheeks are completely drenched and there’s a hysterical look to your eyes.
He doesn’t know what to say.
“Uh….”
The sound of his voice catches your attention, eyes widening, “Jin! Oh my god, Jin, it's so sad!”
“What’s sad?”
“This kdrama!” You point to your screen, “It’s so sad! First they were friends, and then they started liking each other, but then they kissed and everything went downhill after this second guy came in!”
Jin crouches down, barely able to make out what's on screen due to the excessive water sticking to it.
“You’re watching a drama?”
You hurriedly nod, “Now the girl is starting to fall for the second guy because of a misunderstanding! How are they going to fix all this?!”
“Y/N…” Jin says in exasperation, “Is this what you’ve been doing for the past couple of hours?”
You pout, hiding the device that clearly displays episode seven.
“N-No........”
Jin pretends not to see it, “Y/N, your next deadline is within two weeks. You really need to start working on this.”
He grabs hold of your arm, pulling you out of the kdrama cocoon you’ve built around yourself. You let out a deep sigh, pressing your hand against your temples.
“You’re right...I need to stop wasting time…” You whisper and Jin hums, swiveling around.
“I have to get back to editing but I’ll come back in an hour once I’m done.” You nod as he turns to leave, slumping back down on your desk with a tired exhale.
He was right. The moment you clicked onto that link, the hours spun by faster than you could count them and you’ve got nothing done at this point.
Prying open your laptop again, you resume back to the blank document.
***
Jin has assumed his words have knocked some sense into you as he makes his way back to your office.
What he doesn’t assume, is to see you sitting on the ledge of the broad window with a book in your hands.
“You’re reading…?” He wonders. Normally he wouldn’t even question it, but his eyes drift over to the blank document once again and something tells him there’s more to the story than he initially thought.
You look up surprised, as if you hadn’t expected his arrival. His eyes stray over to the title of the book in your hands, a groan leaving him.
“Oh god, not this again Y/N!”
“It’s to help me understand!” You try to reason, but Jin is short of a few words when you’re reading a bulky thick book called ‘The Philosophy Behind Romance’.
“How is this supposed to help you?” He points to the book and you defensively curl your arms around it.
“Hear me out for a minute!” You quickly place it in your hands and rapidly flip through the pages. “Romantic love is considered to be a relation higher than the metaphysical and stems from a desire that transcends the physical body.”
Jin frowns, “What does that even mean?”
“I have no idea. But!” You hastily intervene as Jin looks like he’s about to protest, “I think it can help me with creating the story.”
“I don’t think any of this is going to work.”
“What?” He walks over, taking the book out of your hands and straight up discarding it into your trash can. “HEY!”
“You’re starting to run out of fuel.” He states, noticing the way your expression sours. You know he’s right, but won’t admit it. “You need to get away from all this.”
He gestures to the book and the blank document you still have pulled up, reminding you of the ill circumstance you had yet to do something about.
A dreary sigh leaves your lips, brows knitted together, “I’m trying Jin, I really am.” You gesture to the same empty document, “It’s just so hard. I-....I don’t know what to do.”
Jin places a hand on your shoulder, nodding, “You’re out of your comfort zone and you’re having writer’s block. It’s understandable, but I don’t think research is what's going to help you this time.”
You pout at that, but then Jin swivels around and hands your coat to you.
“Why don’t you try going out for a walk? Clear out your mind and come back with some fresh inspiration?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad…” You reminisce. Tugging your arms through the sleeves, Jin smiles and opens the door for you, ushering you towards the stairs that descend down. You wave at him before disappearing, hoping to yourself that you can get something out of this to clear away the clouds brewing over your creative mind.
***
Glittering stars fill up the night sky, a bright crescent moon twinkling and illuminating the empty roads. Save for the sound of awake crickets and the faint honking of cars nearby, the sidewalk you trudge on is completely silent.
It offers a different scenery compared to your cramped office room, something you didn’t realize you would appreciate as much until it dawns on you that you’ve probably spent several hours in the midst of trying to figure out your story instead of actually writing it. After all, you have been posed with a solid issue and as time spins by, you begin to think that it’s more than doing some mere research could possibly resolve.
Tugging the hem of your coat closer to your red nose, your eyes glance around. You attempt to take some of Jin’s advice to heart, pondering if anything nearby can perhaps spark a flame of inspiration that you’ve been desperately lacking.
That’s when you see it.
Your brows furrow and you have to blink your eyes twice for it to make sense. Sheer curiosity traps you as you saunter over, tilting your head to the side and then to the opposite direction until you blink once more.
Strokes of black and blue envelope the delicate white background that peeks through, specks of gray and white blotted carefully where the lines meet. There’s a peculiar circular shape portrayed in the middle of it, messily splattered with a hue of dull yellow. It looks like something you’ve come across before, something that felt familiar, something that‒
Your eyes look up, the same image appearing right above you.
A frown mars your lips and when your vision focuses back on the piece, a head full of blonde hair sticks out from behind it.
You’re almost ready to unleash a scream, not quite expecting movement from the presumed stationary canvas. You hear a soft sound, seemingly sounding like a low mumble, before silence takes over again. Raising an eyebrow, you take a step forward.
It occurs to you that the canvas you had noticed was actually perched up against a wooden bench, and on that bench, is a person that’s sleeping.
You hesitantly peer at them, noticing that the stranger was in fact a man. He appears to be in the middle of a snooze fest, chest lightly rising in the midst of soft snores escaping him. His face is entirely covered with a black beret, strands of blonde hair peeking out.
There’s a list of questions in your mind, starting from why he was randomly lying down on the bench in the middle of the night to the painting that’s positioned next to his head. While the absurd scenarios explaining his situation run through your mind, his arm moves and you experience your second heart attack for the day.
The beret falls down onto his lap as he stretches his arms, a deep yawn passes by his lips. You remain frozen as he does so, having moved a couple inches away once it dawned on you how odd it would probably be if he found out you were staring.
He sleepily blinks his eyes, narrowing them at you. You’re about to explain yourself, but he instead asks you a question.
“What time is it?”
“Uh…” You scramble around for your phone, the screen lighting up, “11:34pm.”
He hums, getting up and dusting off his jeans. Grabbing the fallen beret, he pushes the strands of his blonde hair back into the hat, revealing strong eyebrows underneath. He pulls out an old camera, hanging it around his neck and letting it drop down onto the brown coat he wears.
His feline-like eyes glance at you in wonder, drastically different from his sleeping appearance on the bench. You let out an awkward cough, a light hue of pink spreading over your skin.
After a moment of silence, he speaks up.
“Do you like my painting?” You raise your brows and blink.
“Your painting?” He nods, a soft proud smile looping on his lips. You peer at the artwork in curiosity again. “You made this?”
He hums, observing it with you, “I waited for hours to paint it.”
He points to the sky and the image finally begins to piece together for you. The black and blue embodying the sky, the shimmering stars scattered all over and the radiant moon, painted so brightly in the centre of all of it.
“You waited out here to paint the sky?”
A drawn out sigh escapes him, “Yep. I’m kind of stuck in a rut, you see.” He gestures to the painting again with a somber look in his eyes, “I wanted to paint something different, but I didn’t have any ideas, so I came out here instead to get the experience.”
“Experience?”
He hums, “It’s a lot easier to experience the moment than having to imagine it in your head.”
“R-Right…” You whisper, still staring at his painting like you were stuck in the middle of a daze. You’re alarmed when he suddenly bends down and picks up the canvas with one arm, pivoting around to face you.
“I have to get going now. Spent too much time painting that I didn’t get enough sleep.” He warmly smiles at you, outstretching his hand, “It was nice meeting you.”
You take it confused and he gives you a small nod before leaving. You watch his back disappear, gaze averting to the large canvas tucked underneath his arm.
Spinning around to head back, you dwell on his words more than you would like.
Maybe this whole time your writer’s block was stemming from something else, something you truly didn’t realize was important until now.
Experience.
But how do you experience something that’s supposed to be completely natural? Something you’re utterly clueless about?
Letting out an exhale, it seems like there’s only one person who can give you clear answers.
***
You start off the next morning at a place you would never consider yourself to express interest in.
The art museum.
You recall hearing whispers and murmurs of a new art showcase going on, your curiosity only seeming to drag you there. The sudden spike in motivation causes Jin to question about your early departure, to which you retort that you’re drawing closer to grasping a solid idea for your story.
Heading in, the gallery is completely adorned in pieces of art. There’s various types ‒ paintings, sculptures, graphic design ‒ you name it. You don’t realize you’re standing in awe until a couple behind you urges you to keep moving, an action that strains a sheepish smile across your lips as you hurriedly scurry away.
You constantly glance around, observing each work you come across. One painting captures your attention, hues of pastel pink and mint green mixed together on the overlay of a figure carrying a smaller figure in their hands. Your lips set into a firm line as you draw closer, eyes tracing the outline.
“You won’t understand it better if you keep staring at it like that.”
You whirl around at the sound of the voice, not quite expecting to run right into the person you were searching for. The man smirks, wearing the same brown coat you saw him in last time.
“How would you interpret it then?”
He takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes in a way you did and you scoff at his mimicry.
“I think it’s a painting of a mother and a child. She’s embracing her child and rocking them to sleep.” He points to the outline, “The colors are supposed to represent a sense of joy and relief with having her child in her arms.”
You blink, managing to piece together everything he said perfectly. The figures do appear like a mother and child, and the colors only emphasize the warmth the outline portrays.
“Woah.” You whisper, probably having not realized all that unless someone told you, “How did you figure that out?”
He smiles, “I’m the one who painted it.”
“Oh.” A chuckle escapes him at your embarrassment and you sheepishly smile. Your eyes are drawn to the painting again, but this time you narrow down on the faint signature at the bottom.
“V?” You raise an eyebrow, “Is that your name?”
He softly shakes his head, “That’s just what I use for my art. My actual name is Kim Taehyung.”
You hum and he leans forward, eyes curious.
You automatically shift away, averting your eyes from his strong gaze. “What?”
“This is the part where you introduce yourself.”
“Oh, right.” You outstretch your hand, “Y/N L/N.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He shakes your hand and swivels around, tilting his head as a means for you to follow him, “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
You nod, hurriedly rushing behind him as he points out several pieces and their artists. You take occasional glances around at other pieces of artwork as well, one with a solemn blue background depicting a mountain catching your eyes instantly.
“That’s really pretty.” You point out, and Taehyung endearingly laughs, glancing at you peculiarly.
“I wonder if I should be flattered that you seem to like all my work.”
“Y-You painted that one too?”
“Yep, this gallery is pretty new so a lot of my work is in here.” He slightly turns his head, enough to see you behind him, “What about you? Got a real keen eye for art?”
“Not really…” You truthfully admit, “I just happened to be walking by and thought I check it out.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
He suddenly pauses, causing you to stop on your heels before you plummet right into him, “Are you sure you’re not stalking me since yesterday?”
Your eyes enlarge, “What?! No, of course not! I just came in here because I heard about the recent showcase and thought...uh...” A deep sigh leaves you from your horrible inability to lie properly, “Thought I might run into you…”
Taehyung pursues his lips, “Now that’s something I’m not sure if I should be creeped out or flattered by.”
“Please don’t be creeped out!” You raise up your hands in defence, opting to tell him the truth, “I’m just stuck in the middle of writing a book and then I saw you yesterday…you were talking about how experiencing something helps you with your art…”
His voice spikes up in awe, “You’re a writer?”
You nod, “Ah, so different cameras but similar lenses…”
“Huh?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” He fully turns to face you, a huge grin on his lips, “I don’t know if I’ll be of much use, but I can help you out if you’d like.”
“Really?” Your eyes spark up, “Thank you so much, I-I can’t believe you would want to help me out…”
“You’ve seen me being stuck in a rut.” He smiles, “I know the feeling.”
You warmly return his smile, tempted to ask him more about his experiences in painting when a woman with a clipboard suddenly approaches the two of you.
She intervenes, “Mr. Kim, the gallery would like to confirm your next showcase.”
His eyes widen, “Ah, yes-” You watch as he shoves his hand into his coat pocket, hurriedly fishing around.
He yanks out a small card, handing it to you, “It has all my contact information on it, shoot me a message whenever you have the chance.”
You quickly take the card before he’s dragged away, sending him a nod in response. He grins, waving you farewell before turning and weaving through the crowds of people viewing the showcase.
Gyrating around, you think it’s best you head back as well, knowing that Jin will be suspicious of the length of your disappearance. As you exit the museum, you glance down, reading the contents of the card.
The background is an array of colours ‒ ranging from blues, greens, reds and even yellows that are splattered in a way that seems to form a tornado. His art name and phone number are in the corner, eerily reminiscent of the way he paints his pieces ‒ drawing you in with the outlays and colours before declaring himself.
The corner of your mouth quirks up.
***
You set out the next morning, the sun beginning to shine brighter as you head closer to your destination.
You find him by the river, an old camera hanging from his neck ‒ just like the first time you had found him by the bench.
A grin makes its way to his lips, his hand waving for you when you begin to draw closer.
“Have difficulty finding it?” He gestures to the river behind you.
You shake your head, keeping a pondering finger to your lips, “Not really, I’ve been here before. I usually go over there to see the book shops.”
You point over to the area you had last visited with Jin, reminiscing about finding your own books there.
Taehyung raises an eyebrow, “You’re a fan of reading other’s books?”
“Of course!” You nervously chuckle, “It’s always great to see what other writers do with their books as well!”
Taehyung stares at you for a moment, his gaze unwavering.
“You went to go see your own books?”
You sigh, squeezing your eyes, “I went to go see my own books.”
Taehyung lets out a low chuckle and you look down, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll admit, it is a little odd‒”
“Not at all.” He shakes his head, “You found me at my own showcase, didn’t you?”
You blink, “Right…”
He shrugs, “It’s a thing for everyone who creates. You want to see how the public reacts to your art.”
You hum, a tad bit surprised by his straightforwardness. It’s an aspect that no creator would take into consideration first hand, but it’s an integral part of being one.
The public always warrants how art is received, after all.
Taehyung lifts his camera, adjusting his lenses before snapping a picture of the bookstore. You watch in confusion as he examines the picture.
“I’m surprised you like taking photos.” You innocently inquire, “Does it help you paint?”
Taehyung glances at you.
“You know the feeling of trying to stop time?”
Your brows knit together and he softly smiles, “When you take a picture, you capture a moment and stop time for a second. It isn't long, but it’s enough for a photograph.”
You watch as he slips his hand into his coat pocket, showcasing a small array of photographs. Images of the sun setting with mixes of bold orange and solemn blue are shown to you, another with a stream of ducks making ripples within the water. There’s ones of buildings and people too, but all of them are taken in angles that are captivating shots of laughter and shots of despair that could have easily been missed if the photograph had a lapse of time.
It almost reminds you of when you’re attempting to capture a particular scene in your mind as your fingertips glide on your keyboard, drawing in an atmosphere that has the reader’s senses all working.
The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls, observing the gears in your head turning.
It only takes you a handful of seconds to notice, a bashful smile lining your lips.
“Writing is like that too, not exactly similar⎯” You retract immediately, “But trying to draw in the five senses around you and bringing it out into literature…”
You glance up at Taehyung, curious to see if you were making any sense at this point. He’s no longer facing you at this point. Instead his body is facing the river, eyes fluttering shut.
There’s a spark in your own, and you hurriedly continue.
“Like this river isn’t just the scene,” You point out, “it’s the sun shining down and reflecting on the surface near the moss. It’s the birds crossing alongside the path and the voices of people nearby echoing. It’s the faint breeze in the air and the smell of greenery.”
“It’s peaceful,” Taehyung hums in content, “and calming.”
A soft smile crosses your features, “That’s what writing is like for me, taking inspiration from the real world and capturing it all into words.”
His eyes open and you notice the knowing gaze he holds, as if everything that you’ve tried to explain is second nature to him.
“So what has you stuck?” He inquires.
A deep sigh escapes you, the acknowledgement occurring that he was actually here to help with your current predicament.
“A new genre.” You admit with a grimace, “I’ve written plenty of different ones before, but there were always ones I understood well and I had no problem with creating stories from them.”
You continue, “And even if it was hard, I’ve always been able to figure it out somehow, you know? If I didn’t know about something, I would research it. If I was confused, I look it up-”
You decide to stop yourself, knowing that those outlets hadn’t been much help at this point. “I’m just…really out of my element, and the worst part is that it’s exactly what the market wants right now.”
You cross your arms, a small pout landing on your lips. It’s not like that you haven’t been vocal about your frustrations, but more so that you’re just slumped, unable to conjure anything up onto that document with the slightest clue of where to even begin.
Taehyung ‒ who had been quietly observing you the entire time ‒ puts his camera down and places his finger on his chin.
“Sometimes when I struggle to paint something new, I procrastinate.” You arch up a brow, “Like bad procrastinate. My canvas starts to collect dust.”
A chuckle escapes you and he smiles, “But then I try to think why I’m procrastinating. Do I just not feel like painting? Or is it because of something else…?”
He stares at you intently, like he’s waiting for you to finish his sentence.
You ponder, “I guess…I’m scared in a way? Of not knowing what I’m doing.”
He hums, “When that happens, I like taking out my camera. Going around and taking pictures not only gives me experience, but also lets me experience my surroundings better.” He glances around until his eyes land on you, “Sometimes I can find inspiration. Sometimes I can find interesting individuals.”
Your eyes round and he turns, angling himself back a bit and taking a snapshot of the river. You peer over his shoulder and he moves closer to you so you can view the picture better.
It’s pretty ‒ he was able to get the forecast of the sun over the bank of the river perfectly, alongside the little daisies growing alongside the shore.
“Nice?” He wonders and you nod, face brightening, “Good. Now just don’t ask me to paint it, that’ll be scary for me.”
You laugh and he turns to walk down the bank of the river with a smile.
***
The next time you get an opportunity to meet Taehyung, there’s a whirlwind in the sky.
It’s been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with him at the art gallery, but regrets are thrown all over the place the moment the wind blasts through your hair. The chills run down your spine, pickling at your skin as you squeeze your eyes shut.
Jin tells you not to go, or at most, to re-schedule. But a part of you is incredibly stubborn, frustration running through you when you know you’ll just end up in the same place ‒ staring at that blank document for endless hours.
As you hug your body as much as you can, you strut down the bustling street and glance back and forth.
Taehyung thankfully appears within a couple of seconds, his silhouette emerging from across the street.
Your eyes round.
He wears the same brown coat he always wears, but this time there’s no beret on his head. Instead his blonde locks are pushed back by the wind, his strong brows furrowed and eyes closed as he tries to navigate himself against the vicious breeze.
You’re not sure if it's the cold nipping at your cheeks or the shiver running through you, but the way your cheeks burn is enough to notice.
He glances up, eyes locking with yours. A wide smile stretches up on his lips that nearly makes you falter.
“Y/N.”
His deep voice calls your name, concern crossing his features.
“Have you been waiting long?”
You shake your head, “I-I just got here.”
“That’s good.” He hums, glancing around. “Not exactly my ideal weather, if I do say.”
You laugh, “I’m surprised my ears haven’t managed to fall off yet.”
The corner of his mouth lifts and before you know it, he’s extending his arm forward. You glance at him surprised, but he nudges you and then gestures in the opposite direction.
“Come on.”
You slip your hand in, linking your arms together. Taehyung begins to walk forward, navigating you around the busy marketplace. Surveying around, there’s various stores lined up across the edge of the street, vendors alike having many displays for you to view.
There wasn’t anything in particular for you to buy, but Taehyung had suggested that it would be good for you to come out with him and explore the new area. It makes you wonder if he wanted you to get more experience going out since after all, you spent more of your time writing and being bit of a hermit.
You peer over at him, noticing his eyes occasionally flickering and observing all the stalls he went past. It was one thing you had learned about Taehyung quickly, that it didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he always had this way of taking in his surroundings carefully, like he was studying every aspect.
That’s when you hear a soft gasp escape him, his hand finding yours as he rushes forward. His feet then come to an abrupt halt and you nearly trip between your own two feet.
Regaining your balance, you peer over his shoulder and notice his eyes are sparkling. Before you have a chance to question any of it, your hand is being tugged again, the bell to the store’s door ringing above you.
Your most straightforward assumption at this point was that the store must have had something to do with painting, but you’re pleasantly surprised to find yourself surrounded with pieces of clay, all decorated with bold and bright colours on various shelves.
Ceramic Art.
You distinctly recall reading about it in a book once, but had never gotten the opportunity to see it up front and close.
A piece captures your eyes immediately, your brows drawing together.
“That’s a unique one.” Taehyung remarks, stepping to stand beside you.
Quirking an eyebrow, the question lingers in your mind.
“I didn’t know you did ceramic art as well.”
Taehyung chuckles, “I actually don’t.” He puts his hands within the pockets of his coat, “It isn’t my area of expertise, but I like seeing different forms of art. Ironically, I find the way of expressing it to be the exact same.”
You blink as Taehyung steps away, taking strides towards other surrounding pieces of art and inspecting them. You’re left staring as he gazes at a pot that’s been shaped similar to a moon, swirls of dark blue and yellow specks decorating the smooth ceramic.
You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips.
“It looks just like something you would have painted.”
Taehyung frowns, before the corners of his mouth quirk up. “I didn’t even notice, I just thought it looked beautiful.”
“You definitely have a good eye for art.”
“It would appear so.” He lightly laughs, turning around to view more of the art.
A part of you curiously lingers, walking up to him.
You peer over, “Does this mean you see my writing as art too?”
“Of course.” His head snaps back, “Art’s all about expression, doesn’t matter what medium you choose.”
Your face lights up.
“However,” He brings up and your eyes widen, “Every artist is never the same. People always have different stories to tell and that’s completely okay. That’s what makes them all unique.”
A glimmer enters your eyes. After the endless frustrations with your recent book, his words do send you a sense of reassurance. It can sometimes be difficult to have someone else understand why you do things the way you do ‒ even you and Jin have had your fair share of arguments over various disagreements ‒ but it all pinpointed to seeing everything in a different perspective.
You grin, “I can understand that.”
His eyes soften, “I think it also means that some genres can be harder than others, but everyone can bring their unique take on them.”
Brows lifting, your gaze fixates on him. But he spins around, gesturing for you to come over and to observe more art with him.
You walk over with no hesitation.
***
The following time you find Taehyung, fall is still letting her leaves shed and he invites you over to his studio.
A part of you is beaming with excitement ‒ having only ever seen his artistic ways when he was attempting to paint the stars and you had coincidentally stumbled across him that night. But a part of you can’t shake away the jitters, jitters that you don’t want to spend time trying to understand, deciding to just push it all away as you set out for the day.
The wind is gustful, snipping at your nose and cheeks. Hues of warm orange and bright yellow litter the ground and top the trees, the sun hiding behind grey clouds that ever so let droplets of water release.
It’s scenery that grasps you within its clutches, glimmering your eyes with awe and leaving your mouth agape.
And it’s the same scenery that he seeks to capture.
You have the simple pleasure of watching as he draws lines of jade for the trees and splatters on specks of orange and yellow. He scrambles to paint the few individuals that walk past his vision, capturing their essence into carefully placed frames.
His art style lingers between mimicking the surroundings but somehow elevating it as well, drawing in the observer with his interesting use of colour and texture.
You can only seem to watch, lost in it as well.
Time flies from you as he adds the final touches to his piece and you finally notice the way his hands are completely stained, some paint having even made its way to his nose. His brushes have seen the light of day, piled next to him in a canister.
And in the midst of it, he looks upon his painting and grins. He turns to you for the first time since you’ve arrived, breaking the complete silence as he laughs with his deep tone.
“Well, that was a lot of fun.”
You can’t help but burst into laughter as well, completely astounded by the difference in his demeanour. Astounded how easily you saw both a painter in his element and a man in his twenties observing his surroundings within the same split second.
You end up helping him clean each of his used brushes, watching him walk down the street with you as paint still remains on his face and hands.
***
“Someone seems to be doing well for themselves.”
The retort breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping up.
“Huh?” There’s a book encased within your hands, one of the few titles you had referenced in writing your mystery story.
Jin laughs under his breath. He hasn’t been able to see much of you for a while, only just knowing that you had met a painter by the name of Taehyung and he was all you would talk about these days.
He tucks away a book in his own hands, “You were smiling so much that I assumed everything has been working out. Has Taehyung’s advice been that helpful?”
Your eyes twinkle, spinning around on your heels.
“It has been! He’s so much fun to talk to, and he’s got great insight, Jin.” Your smile widens, “Who knew seeing eye to eye with a painter would be so easy?”
Jin grins, “It’s definitely got you in high spirits, I can tell you that.”
“I need to introduce you to him, Jin. I think you’ll get along great!” You chirp, reaching down to open another box.
“Woah, woah,” Jin draws closer, halting you, “I’ll take care of that, you’ve got some writing to do, remember?”
A giant pout arises on your lips, “But I said I was going to help you.”
“And you will, by writing for your new book.” He points out, “Spending time with Taehyung should have sparked something, no?”
You hum defeatedly, knowing he had a point. You had spent so much of your time with him, it was only hopeful that his words would have incited some creativity to strike you.
Letting out a big sigh, you drag yourself back to your desk and open up your computer, the blank document is showcased once again to your eyes.
***
You want to pound your head against the table.
The good news is that your document is no longer left blank. There’s rough jot notes littered on it, some random junctions from the brainstorming you were doing on ideas for the story. You’re trying to indulge your unique perspective onto the story, concepts for certain scenes stemming from a cool night out in the stars, a riverside and a busy marketplace.
But it isn’t enough.
The bad news is that you, out of all people, know that ideas are just a base. You need to build up a coherent story from it, create characters, create dynamics. And you have none of those at this moment.
It’s like all the surface level information is just complete, not the heart of your story.
You contemplate on how to begin, eyes sweeping over the jot notes listed on your document countless times. You start pulling at anything in your mind, anything that could be linked to writing romance.
A deep exhale leaves your lips, shoulders slumping down. Your hand reaches out for your mouse, closing the document tab before going to the search bar, the urge to delve in and research the topic tempting you.
You know you had tried to take a different approach with this, tried not to linger too much on the various articles, but despite the unique types of experiences you’ve had in the last couple of weeks, there still isn’t an answer to the question in your mind.
How do people even start to fall in love?
You’re in the midst of searching the question, eyes already filtering through various articles ‒ when suddenly there's a flicker in your dim eyes.
Halting your racing fingertips against the keyboard, the mouse in your hands is abandoned.
You shoot up from your desk, yanking the door wide open and running outside.
***
Jin hums a soft tone in the serene silence, opening up a box to unload the books onto the table. He’s been set on organising the newer ones that had just come in, attempting to distract himself before he checks in on you and your progress with your writing.
The door comes bursting open.
The book slips through his fingers and a blood-curdling scream escapes his throat. He spins around, brows furrowed together.
You stand in a starfish stance at the door, eyes wild and breathing heavy.
“What happened?!” Jin questions, holding a frantic hand against his racing heart.
“You‒” You raise a shaking finger at him, still gasping for air. Jin wonders why you even decided to run so fast when he’s literally a couple of doors away. “You have a girlfriend.”
He blinks, sheer unamusement crossing his features, “Seriously? That shouldn’t be news to you!”
“I know!” You raise your hands in defence, “But I have some questions I want to ask you.”
He cranes his head to the side, “You’re going to interview me?”
“Kind of.” Jin doesn’t have time to react when you’re already reaching out for a chair, dragging it closer to him.
He sits down opposite to you with a groan, “At least tell me this is for the book.”
“Hold on.” You settle down, scrutinising him, “Do you love your girlfriend?”
A scoff escapes him, “Of course I do!”
“Good, now how did you fall in love?”
Jin blinks, surprised by the genuine question. You seem interested as well, eyeing him intently.
“We met back in college.” He softly smiles, his complexion tinting pink, “She was close to someone in my friend circle and I thought she was really cute.”
“Was it love at first sight?”
“Sort of.” Jin tilts his head, “She was kind, but I wanted to get to know her before anything so we became friends first.” He explains, “Eventually, I realised I liked her a lot and asked her out.”
You hum and Jin doesn’t even realize you’re writing something down, pen in hand as you scribble onto a piece of paper.
“I can’t believe you wanted to hear about my experience.” He remarks.
“Well, I don’t really understand the romance genre in general.” You mumble, still writing. “And Taehyung said that sometimes experiencing things can help with his art, so I thought talking to someone who has experience would help me.”
Jin quirks a brow, a scrutinising look brewing in his eyes. It catches you off guard when you finally look up, taken aback by him surveying you.
“What?”
He narrows his eyes, “What’s the deal with Taehyung?”
You stare at him wide-eyed. “Deal? What deal?”
“You know what I mean.” Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms. The suspicious look in his eyes doesn’t disappear. “Ever since you met him, there's been a lot of ‘Taehyung this’ and ‘Taehyung that’.”
You sigh, his words drawing out a conclusion from you.
“He’s not being distracting, Jin.” You firmly state, much to his surprise. It was always a rare occasion for you to be completely serious. “I’ve learned a lot from him, and he’s truly really fascinating and inspiring to be around.”
A soft smile spreads on your features, recalling all the fond times Taehyung was either teaching you about the way he viewed the world or the places he would take you to explore.
You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t realize that Jin is still staring at you, the suspicion only increasing further in his eyes.
Jin doesn’t beat around the bush this time.
“Do you like Taehyung?”
You nearly choke, reality bringing you back as the air leaves your lungs in an instant. Glancing up at Jin mortified, you wonder how he drew up that conclusion.
“W-What?! No!” A hue of pink scatters onto your cheeks and Jin quirks his head to the side, like he’s not impressed.
“Really?” He wonders out loud, “Since that museum trip of yours, your head seems to be up in the clouds and as someone knowledgeable in the romance department,” He flutters his fingers like he’s throwing sparkles at you, “I’m starting to think otherwise.”
“That’s crazy!” You retorted in defence, “I can’t like Taehyung!”
“You can’t?” He says playfully, “That’s far from don’t.”
You hurriedly get up, collecting the notes you’ve written. “I-I need to get back to writing.”
The corners of Jin’s lips lift, since this is the first time he hasn’t had to ask you himself to work on your book.
***
He’s just assuming.
You think, hurriedly slipping into your chair. Tapping on your computer, you wait for the pitch black screen to light up.
There was no possible way. Taehyung was simply just helping you with your writer’s slump.
Blinking your eyes a couple of times, you attempt to shake away the lingering thoughts and bring yourself back into focus for this novel.
Only for your eyes to land right on your lit screen, the search you had begun popping in front of your face.
The curiosity is drawn out from you, and before you know it, you begin to scroll.
Majority of them fall within the same bracket of the research you were attempting to do in the beginning process of this book, with links advertising love advice and even counselling. A new link to a kdrama even pops up, something you have to will yourself to ignore.
Until one article crosses your eyes, one that has you more curious than ever.
Having difficulty in finding out if you’ve fallen in love? Find out here!
You frown, hovering over it for a split second. But then you shake your head, reciting to yourself that it was for the sake of writing the novel.
The articles flashes before you, paragraphs of information presented that you proceed to skim through.
“Falling in love is compared with the feeling of euphoria…”
You mumble under your breath, moving past it.
“....There is a semblance of love and trust…”
An idea for a climax ‒ you note ‒ that would tie in nicely with the finale of a romance book.
“...Rifts are commonly experienced…”
You have to create conflict somehow, maybe a difference in opinions.
“Usually the act of falling in love progresses within five steps𑁋“
Your nose crinkles, the corner of your lips twitching.
“There’s steps?” You mutter, body abruptly freezing. Drawing closer to your screen, your eyes slowly drift over the words.
“Stages are reached, each increasing with the notion of being in love. They are known as,”
Attraction.
Curiosity.
Attachment.
Denial.
Acceptance.
It’s a list.
Your genre can follow a list?
Tossingthe thought into the back of your mind, you eagerly continue, curiosity running haywire at this point.
“Attraction is the initial stage, symbolising the origin of interest and can be considered on physical guidelines.”
“Curiosity follows as second, with interest in the person only increasing as time passes by.”
“Attachment signifies the creation of a bond, the mind filled with new thoughts and changes.”
“Denial is the hesitance, acting against any forms of acceptance.”
“Acceptance. Welcoming the thought that you have fallen in love.”
Your mouth twists, each stage sounding more vague and philosophical as the one that came before it. The thought of digging out your ‘The Philosophy Behind Romance’ book from where it was discarded suddenly occurs, until you find yourself re-reading the stages a couple of times over again.
As you lean back into your chair, there’s a glint in your eyes.
Your biggest mistake was assuming you had the willpower to wave off the lingering thoughts, because they come pouring right back in before you can stop them.
If by any chance, he was right𑁋
The stages would have to be followed….
Right?
You cross your arms, skimming through the contents once again.
Attraction.
Did you find Taehyung attractive?
You recall first finding him underneath the glittering moonlight, his sleeping form residing on the bench and his artwork displayed just inches away from him. You can remember him stirring, his feline like eyes holding a strong gaze that almost made you lose your breath.
It’s the same gaze he holds while he’s painting, you pinpoint, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
You abruptly blink, shaking your head.
Curiosity.
To say you didn’t find Taehyung interesting, would have been a huge understatement.
He was different from you, but not in a way that you couldn’t understand. Instead, you found yourself a lot more alike than you had expected, his artistic lens meeting yours.
Attachment.
What even is that?
You can’t help but ponder, thinking at the most you were attached to your writing and books, having an avid imagination since you were young and always finding your footsteps gravitating towards the library. You would find yourself absolutely consumed with the different worlds, eventually leading you towards a career within it.
It was a bond in a way ‒ one that you would always have.
Your lips pursue, a hardened expression taking over.
Was it possible to have the same feeling with another person?
You let out a long sigh, eyes flickering over to the next stage.
Denial.
You freeze.
The hesitance, acting against any forms of acceptance.
The thought snaps into your head unannounced and soon you’re scrambling, attempting to get back to working on your book.
A low chuckle leaves you, tinged with nervousness.
“There’s no possible way…”
***
You stand awkwardly in front of the door, swaying between your two feet.
The home before you is small, looking only to being one-story high and consisting of old granite. There’s an exceptional amount of greenery near it, with a small garden at the side where you can notice subtle cherry tomatoes growing.
There was no telling how you could have best reacted when Taehyung had suddenly messaged you, asking if you would like to come over. You had accepted as always, but you didn’t realize what that exactly entailed until you were standing a mere couple of footsteps away from his door.
Looking down, you groan, wishing Jin had never said anything to you.
The sound of a lock turning has you abruptly on guard, the door yanking open before you can even collect yourself.
And it seems like Taehyung doesn’t give you that opportunity either.
He’s dressed in a casual tee and sweatpants, blonde hair falling to his eyes and a bit ruffled. It’s a stark contrast to constantly seeing him in his brown coat and beret, a casualness that feels too utterly unfamiliar for you.
“Hi.” He says in a low voice, greeting you with a warm smile.
For a moment, you could feel time stopping ‒ one simple thought occurring to you.
He really is beautiful.
Taehyung seems to notice your daze, brows furrowing for a moment.
“Y/N?”
“Uh, hi!” You squeak, probably too many octaves too high.
“Is everything okay?” He ponders and you aggressively shake your head, to which Taehyung stares at you peculiarly for, but ultimately decides to take your word for it.
“Come in.” He steps back in and leaves the door open for you, gesturing to you to follow. You carefully step forward, getting welcomed to the humble abode he calls his home.
The inside is spacious and ornate, the walls being painted with striking colours and light decorations littering the area. The interior seems to match the exterior in a way, appearing rustic but unique at the same time.
It’s cozy. And comforting.
“I apologize for it being messy.” Taehyung states from behind you, quickly picking up a couple of art books on the ground and moving them into a nearby shelf. “My two roommates left to go out of town, and I’ve been here by myself.”
“That’s okay.” You say right away, only to realize that also meant the two of you were alone in here.
He seems to read your mind as well, quickly continuing, “I brought you here for a reason, though I’m not too sure how you’ll take to it.”
You glance at him confused and he walks past you, heading towards one of the doors in the hallway.
Following behind him, he turns to face you. “You saw what my recent art pieces were like at the showcase, but I wanted to do something different for my next pieces. Something more abstract," He explains, eyes lighting up, “and something that’s a bit more fun.”
He opens the door and your mouth falls agape. Because before you is a completely empty room and in the center of it stands a giant blank canvas.
“What…?” You whisper in awe, walking towards it. Taehyung leans against the door frame, a huge grin on his face as he watches you.
You turn, “What is this?”
“I know you’ve been struggling with your novel,” He confesses, “and I thought we could paint this together. Give your creative mind a nice break.”
You’re still in disbelief and he struts up next to you, a playful tone in his voice you’ve never heard before. “Of course, I’ll give you credit for being part of my piece.”
A laugh escapes you, shaking your head at his antics.
Your eyes connect with his.
“Let’s do this.”
***
A wave of light orange splatters diagonally onto the white of the canvas.
You glance at it surprised, the bucket of paint still in your hands.
Taehyung chuckles, amused with your aim. “Not bad, Y/N.”
You smile, putting it down as Taehyung grabs a bright green one, putting all his force into it.
It splatters in the opposite direction, almost creating an ‘X’ shape.
He whistles at the sight and you dash over to the other buckets, kneeling down for another colour. Taehyung had luckily lent you his clothes for the occasion so as to not ruin your own, but as a result the clothes you adorned were a bit bigger in size, hanging off your frame.
You pick up a white in curiosity and Taehyung fondly watches as you quirk your head side to side, ultimately deciding to just go with it.
Chucking the colour against the canvas, the white creates a splatter right in the center. Taehyung hurriedly rushes over to you, a can of smaller paints in his hands with different colours. You chuckle at his eagerness and the way his hands are already stained with colour.
“Keep going,” He encourages, eyes brighter than you have ever seen, “It looks incredible.”
You nod enthusiastically, taking the smaller ones and splattering them across. They come out this time as blots and lines, giving more dimension to the base you and Taehyung first made.
After having used all your energy in attempting to add in more depth with the shapes and colours, Taehyung continues, following your streaks instead of disrupting them. He’s always had an exceptional visual eye, understanding perfectly on where to pick up where you left off, and it’s definitely another one of things you’ve adored about him.
Taehyung’s eyes are wide, a childish glint in them that you’re so happy to have been able to witness. But you don't know that it matches the same glint residing in your own eyes, mischievousness running through every fibre of your body when you pick up a small bucket of blue.
He turns and before he has the chance to say anything to you, a hue of azure blue covers half of his face.
He blinks in shock for a moment, hand coming up to swipe and realize that there was indeed paint on his face. However, his eyes flicker up to connect with yours and all he can see is you grinning from ear to ear.
It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a red that lands all over the front of your shirt and side of your ear.
From there, it’s like a chord’s snapped.
Colours are flying back and forth, from high to low volumes, and in the midst of all this, yours and Taehyung’s voice are running loud, laughs and giggles echoing around the room. As if two children are playing together rather than two adults simply trying to paint.
Taehyung matches your energy so well, attempting to create even more chaos when there’s orange landing directly on your hair after you skillfully managed to get a splatter of purple on his. It’s when the paint shoots out from your hair onto the canvas that an idea occurs to him, his blue covered hand slipping onto yours.
“Wait, Y/N!”
You freeze, staring at him puzzled. He takes your hand, leading you into the front of the canvas before backing away, gazing at you with intent.
The look in his eyes makes you fidget a bit, wishing he would hurriedly tell you what was on his mind.
He raises a hand, halting you in place. “Stay there. Just like that.”
To your surprise, he picks up a large volume of purple, standing right before you.
“Close your eyes, Y/N. Put your hands over them.”
His stance finally alerts you to his intentions, eyes squeezing shut and hands reaching over when you feel a wave of cold paint splash all over you. You wait for a moment as it all drips down, collecting into a pool of purple right below your feet.
Taehyung takes your hand, leading you away from the canvas and next to him as you blink, the piece of art showcasing itself to you.
There’s colours. Everywhere. All appearing between a mixture of random to extremely skillful. All coming from you and Taehyung. And right in the middle of the mix is you.
Your silhouette perfectly lined with a gorgeous shade of purple.
“It’s beautiful.” Taehyung breathes.
You are suddenly very glad there’s paint all over your face, unsure if you would be able to hide the burning expression over your features.
However, the burn abruptly increases, a stinging sensation coming from your face that wells tears.
“Ah.” You wince, rolling into yourself as your hand hovers over your eyes.
“Y/N!” Taehyung’s hands are cupping your face before you can say anything. “Y/N, look at me.”
You obey his instructions, facing him but keeping your eyes squeezed shut. His thumb pads hurriedly brush out the paint that has managed to drip near your eyes.
“Is it gone?” You urgently ask, a tear rolling down your cheek.
“Give me one second.” Taehyung whispers, his hands disappearing for a moment before a cool cloth is pressed against your eyes.
You let out a sigh of relief and the cloth is promptly discarded, your eyes fluttering open.
A part of you wishes you kept them closed.
Taehyung’s face is just inches away from yours, and you can feel the low breaths he lets out.
It’s a fact he seems to realize in that instance himself as well, and there’s a silence that cuts through the air as you continue to stare into each other’s eyes.
Your heart pounds frantically within your chest. After what feels like an eternity, Taehyung moves first, attempting to close the gap but keeping his eyes trained on you. You don’t move for a second, kept frozen beneath his entire presence being so close to you.
It’s when his lips are hovering just above yours, you break the comforting silence.
“W-Where’s your shower?” You look away, grimacing at how broken your voice sounds.
Taehyung doesn’t respond at first, a flash of hurt crossing his features that you don’t see. But it quickly disappears and he clears his throat, separating from you.
“The first door on your left.”
“Thank you.” You quietly say, turning around immediately.
You stalk up to the door, halting when your hand meets the knob. Glancing back at Taehyung, he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, staring at the artwork you’ve just made together with a somber look in his eyes.
Your body stiffens and he glances back in your direction, a small smile on his lips that doesn’t seem to meet his eyes.
Turning to leave, it’s difficult to ignore the way your chest tightens.
***
Your shower was supposed to only be fifteen minutes, but it ends up feeling like a century.
The intent should be to get the copious amounts of paint out of your hair and skin, but as the steam clouds the air and the water drips down from your forehead onto the ground, your head remains planted against the shower wall, eyes squeezed shut.
It doesn’t help that there’s still a faint pool of purple swirling around your feet.
Stepping out of the shower, you open the door and peek outside, only to find your clothes folded on a small chair that’s been positioned right before the bathroom. Sheepishly reaching out, you discard the clothing Taehyung had given you and put your own back on.
You bump into Taehyung within seconds of exiting.
“Y/N.” His eyes meet with yours and you halt your steps. There’s unease brimming in his, but it’s something he doesn’t try to bring up.
“You’re leaving?” He ponders and you shake your head, completely confused on what to even say.
“Taehyung…” You begin, “I‒”
He raises his hand up, “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
It’s hard to not let the guilt show up on your face, but Taehyung leads you to the front door, opening it up for you.
“You helped me with creating a great piece of art.” He says optimistically, “Thank you, Y/N.”
“O-Of course.” You mumble, casting your head down.
Before you can step out, his hand finds your wrist.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He whispers, “And I wish you the best of luck with your book. If it’s you, I think it’s sure to come out amazing.”
His words always have a way of giving you a sense of comfort, your frustrations and conflicts with yourself melting away.
But you don’t expect what he says next, “If you ever need anything, anything at all,” The gaze in his eyes leaves you forgetting how to breathe, “I’m always here.”
It’s not until he lets go of you that you remember your intent to leave, slipping away slowly as he closes the door.
***
Jin doesn’t understand why you’re so intent on giving him a heart attack.
The door slams open and you suddenly emerge. But Jin doesn’t have time to retaliate about you freaking him out constantly or that you’ve been out all day and that you need to be making more progress with your book.
Instead, it looks like a piece of your soul’s been crushed.
“Y/N?” He loudly ponders, simply left just staring at you as you hurriedly kick your boots off.
“Jin!” You exclaim, seemingly breathless.
“Did you run here or something?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his words. You simply hand him your coat, heading into your room.
“Where’s my computer?” You question, glancing at him wildly. He’s taken back a bit, but he answers your question.
“There was an electrical issue that needed to be fixed so I temporarily moved it.” He points down the hall, “It’s in the spare room with all the hard copies.”
“Good.” You exhale, dashing over.
“Wait, Y/N‒” He isn’t able to get a word in, the door closing with a loud thud.
There’s a plethora of questions at the tip of his tongue, ranging from why it took you so long to what could have possibly happened, but Jin isn’t able to ponder for long when he suddenly hears the frantic typing of your keyboard.
***
Twenty-four hours.
Jin crosses his arms, standing in front of the room that you have yet to emerge from since the past twenty-four hours. He didn’t say much after you had barged in yesterday and confined yourself inside, simply locking up for the day and leaving some takeout on the table outside in case you got hungry.
And that was all due to the look in your eyes.
It’s a look he’s seen before, on days where you’ve been engrossed in your writing, too occupied with your own racing mind to halt your actions. However, this time he notices a sense of urgency that wasn’t there before.
Which is why when you do finally emerge, he can’t believe what you’re waving in front of his eyes.
“Here you go.” You say, handing him the USB in your hands, “It’s all done, the entire novel.”
“Y/N.” He says astonished, staring at you in pure awe, “How did you manage to write it all?”
You laugh at that and Jin is a little unnerved, wondering how on earth you didn’t look crazy after staying in that one room for so long and just simply typing.
“I think I’ll always be a hermit to some degree.” You toss your coat over your shoulders, reaching down for your shoes.
“Where are you going?” He questions, watching as you finish putting on your boots.
You smile, “I have to go find someone.”
Jin’s eyes widen and without saying another word, you turn to head towards the door.
He scoffs underneath his breath once you leave.
“I knew it.”
***
Taehyung isn’t picking up your calls.
You hurriedly dial the number again on your phone, hearing the familiar ringing over and over until you’re sent to voicemail.
Once the other end beeps, you mumble underneath your breath.
“Taehyung, call me please.”
After leaving the message, you slide your phone into your coat pocket, glancing at the destination you hurried towards.
The home is still there, appearing exactly how you had just left it two days ago.
You frantically knock against the door.
Surely it opens, but to reveal someone else entirely.
“Oh.” You mutter, your expression of relief morphing into awkward surprise. The man standing before you looks equally confused, surveying your face.
“You are…?” He squints, like he’s attempting to place a name to your face.
You answer right away, “I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N?” He repeats, eyes sparkling. “Really? Wow, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
A nervous laugh escapes you, “And you are…?”
“Oh, sorry.” He sheepishly smiles, reaching out his hand. “My name is Jimin, I’m one of Taehyung’s roommates.”
You nod in recognition, “Are you looking for Taehyung?”
“Yes!” You suddenly exclaim, “Do you know where he is?”
“I just got back in last night.” He says with a grimace, “But Taehyung wasn’t here, the last I heard he was preparing for his next showcase.”
Your eyes widen.
“Thank you, Jimin! I’ll be on my way now!” He waves you goodbye and you spin on your heels, knowing exactly where you needed to be.
***
The art museum looks exactly the same, pieces on for display and spectators walking from room to room, inspecting each one.
However, each exhibit represents a multitude of different artists, none consisting of the one you’re searching for.
“Excuse me.”
You poke a lady that’s wearing a gallery uniform, expectantly looking at her.
“Where is Taehyung’s‒” You bite your tongue, “Sorry, V’s exhibit?”
“Ah, I’m afraid we’re in the midst of clearing up for his next one.” She says with remorse, “There are some of his pieces still left over there if you’d like to view them.”
“I see…” Your shoulders slump in defeat, but you do thank her for helping you out. Heading towards the direction she pointed out, you find the paintings from the last time you had visited the museum.
The corners of your lips curl up. You recall being here, attempting to find the peculiar man after seeing him underneath the starry sky without knowing much about how close you would grow to be.
You come across the same painting, remembering how easily his ability to capture expansive sceneries was. But that’s when you see one of his new pieces, a soft gasp escaping you.
It’s the painting you created together, fully displayed in all its glory.
But it’s not the only one.
There’s a set of three different canvases, all with artworks of you.
One of them is the same painting of the night sky you saw before, but the sky is painted with a deep purple now, the same colour that was outlined with your silhouette. The moon is completely full, stars scattered around that are brighter with a hue of white. You don’t fall to notice that there’s also a bench added at the bottom.
Another one of them is a splatter of photographs, photographs you didn’t even know he took of you. There’s images from the river side, pictures coming from the marketplace, and in all of them he’s managed to capture the spark in your eyes.
The last one has you frozen.
It’s a portrait, but not just a portrait of you.
It’s a portrait of you reading.
The image is uncanny, the light hitting your side profile at a lovely angle, the book in your hands being carefully held, the excitement in your eyes even brighter than the photographs.
Your brows furrow, wondering when Taehyung could have gotten such an image of you. But then you realize he doesn’t ‒ that he’s created the image through himself.
That’s when your eyes have the instant to flicker down, breath hitching once you discover what he’s named all three pieces.
My Muse.
By Kim ‘V’ Taehyung.
Everything stops, and all you’re left being able to do is to simply stare.
“I’m assuming I can’t keep this a surprise anymore.”
You whirl around at the speed of light, recognizing that deep tone from anywhere.
Taehyung stands before you, a soft smile on his lips.
“It’s incredible.” You whisper, “How did you…?”
“I was working on it for a while.” He steps next to you, pointing to the first, “That one was made a few nights after I met you.” He points to the second, “That one was after we had spent time together.” He points to the last, “And that one I made last night, after finishing reading one of your books.”
You stare at the portrait, observing that the book that you’re reading is indeed one of your own.
He read the one where a man turns into a fish.
“You read it?” Disbelief is laced in your voice, mixed with an odd sense of pride.
“Of course, I’ve been wanting to read one of your books since I met you.” He explains, scratching the back of his head. “You saw my art, but I never got a chance to see yours.”
You’re simply at a loss of words. You ‒ the person that had a remark for anything and was able to write countless words at bullet speed, had no more to say.
Taehyung stares at the ground, chewing down on his bottom lip.
“Has your novel writing been going okay?” He blurts, attempting to draw the attention away from his art.
That snaps you out of it. “Uh yeah, I actually finished it.”
“You did?” His head snaps up in astonishment, “Congrats.”
You warmly smile, “Thanks.”
After a moment of silence, he clears his throat, “Listen Y/N, I’m really sorry for not expressing it sooner.” He gestures to his art pieces, “I’m not the best with explaining my feelings, so it's easier for me to integrate it somehow into my‒”
You cut him off mid-sentence, your lips meeting his. The surprise spreads over his face instantaneously, but it doesn’t take Taehyung long to reciprocate, moving his lips against yours.
You separate from him and he blinks, as if caught up in a daze.
“You never asked me what my book was about.” You breathe out.
His brows furrow, “What was it about?”
You grin mischievously, “It’s about a writer and a painter falling in love.”
Taehyung seems to be at a loss for words now, gazing at you in pure surprise.
“Really?” He asks, and you cheerfully nod.
“Yup.” You find his hands, interlacing them with yours.
“I’m really sorry.” Remorse enters your eyes. “Romance has truthfully, never really been my genre.”
Taehyung lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Maybe we can see if that changes.”
There’s a giant smile on your lips that he matches with his own.
Tightening his warm hold on your hand, the pair of you walk away together from the exhibit.
You laugh to yourself.
Maybe romance as a genre wasn’t so bad after all.
#castlebangtan#bangtanscenery#ficswithluv#taehyung fanfic#taehyung fluff#kim taehyung fanfic#bts v fanfic#bts taehyung fanfic#kim taehyung#bts taehyung#bts taehyung painter au#bts painter au#bts writer au#bts v#taehyung x reader#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts scenarios
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cursed Images: A Metron Series in Two Parts
Part 1 - The Early Years (1970-2005)
I’ve now gone through all of Metron’s appearances across several different titles, and it’s always fun seeing various artists’ interpretations of the character. And of course by “fun” I mean “maddening and rage inducing”. I know, I know, even published artists are at various skill levels and have their own unique styles. Sure, fine, I get that. But what I’m talking about here are choices. Choices made by people who saw the original design and went NAHHH. They truly looked at New Gods 1971 and said “I wonder who that’s for?” So this series is a compilation of the worst offenders because I have to share these with someone or I will surely implode. The list ranges from personal pet peeves to mind-boggling portrayals. Feel free to chime in, share opinions, even argue for or against the list. As long as seeing this makes you go, “wtf” at least once, then I’ve done my job. Without further ado I give you...
1. Mister Miracle (1971) #18
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron from the waist up. He is looking upwards with an open mouthed frown. His eyes lack pupils and the width of his face makes him look non-human. /End]
Can you believe it? the first entry is drawn by none other than Jack Kirby himself. If anyone has the right to alter Metron’s design, it’d be him, and by god did he do it. Even if we don’t mention the strange eyes and fish-like facial features, the ears aren’t covered (a cardinal sin in my book), and the shirt design is all kinds of a-typical.
2. New Gods (1977) #8
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron’s face in three quarters view. He is looking ahead sternly with red flames in the background. /End]
First off, whomst? This looks like someone cosplaying as Metron. Who is this man? Anyway, here we see what I consider to be another cardinal sin. No cut-out on the forehead. The penciler for most of this run of New Gods clearly took inspiration from 1st Issue Special #13 (not pictured here) where Mike Vosburg pioneered this look (unfortunately). The M shape is there, its just all cowl. I wish I could put into words what it is about this that annoys me. I guess it’s maybe stripping uniqueness away from the design. Anyway, I also chose this one bc what is with the absolute lack of eyebrows on the cowl? Blasphemy. And the face is just way too open.
3. Justice League of America (1960) #183
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron sitting in the Mobius chair, facing the viewer and tilted to the side. The art has a boxy style to it, and the chair is orange. /End]
Okay, most of my problem with this one is the Mobius chair. WHY is it yellow/orange? WHY is it so boxy?? And most of all, WHY did they color it so that it blends in with Metron’s suit to make HIM look boxy as well??? I don’t mind the changes to the design on his chest, and the cowl is fine. It’s really just how the artists did the chair dirty, and it ended up making the overall composition quite bizarre.
4. Justice League International (1987) #12
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron from the chest up. He is looking down at an angle with a flat expression, and had a hand on his chest. Pink smoke rises from the left side of his chest. /End]
The lack of detail and lines on the face is purely this artist’s style, so no issues there. But am I NOT supposed to notice the freaking TINY forehead cut-out??? SO SMALL. And it’s not an M shape, which does kind of bother me. Like, at least they’ve got the eyebrows in there, but still. Why did they draw it this way? :(
5. New Gods (1986) #6
[Image: Cropped comic panel close up on Metron’s face. He is staring forward towards the viewer with his mouth slightly open and his brow crinkled. /End]
Alright. That’s on me for complaining about lack of eyebrows and facial detail before. Now we have DOUBLE thick eyebrows and a weirdly wrinkled forehead. Every time I see this I feel like the eyebrows are toothpaste. And what’s with the beady white eyes? Sigh. At least the forehead is cut out and has somewhat of an M shape. Guess I gotta take my wins where I can get them.
6. JLA (1997) #11
[Image: Two cropped comic panels of Metron. The first is a full body shot of him on the Mobius chair, which looks to be coming out of a fiery portal. The second is a close up of his face as he turns to look toward the viewer with squinted eyes with red dots of energy in the background. /End]
Howard Porter and Grant Morrison, I just want to talk. Besides making the Mobius chair silver and weirdly cushy, I HATE the square eye thing. It’s a staple of Morrison’s portrayals of Metron for some reason, and It’s so stupid and has no reason behind it that I can tell besides making him look sinister. All the other New Gods look human-ish, but no. Had to go and make Metron look edgy. I know he’s supposed to be cold and more like his machines, but he’s still a god. That’s the duality! Read beyond the surface level I am begging! So yeah, the square eyes is to me the ultimate manifestation of someone not actually getting Metron’s character.
7. Jack Kirby’s Fourth World (1997) #13
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron’s face in dark lighting. He has a serious expression and speaks to someone out of view to the side. /End]
By all rights this shouldn’t be on the list. I’m actually totally fine with John Byrne’s art. Sure the eyes are the wrong color, and the mask on the cheeks can be a bit too sharp at times, but fine. Fine. My problem here is SO petty and I know it. It’s that the forehead has three dots. There’s supposed to be one. ONE. And the reason it irks me is that three forehead dots is a Braniac thing. BRANIAC. The utter gall to even COMPARE the two!! I’m sorry but Coluans WISH they were on Metron’s level. I will die on this hill if I have to.
8. Jack Kirby’s Fourth World (1997) #16
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron’s face, slightly smiling while speaking and looking forwards and upwards. /End]
SIGH.
When I said I didn’t like the three forehead dots, THIS isn’t what I had in mind. I’m truly suffering.
9. Superman: The Dark Side #2
[Image: Two comic panels of the character Metron. The first is at an upwards angle from the chest with his hand resting on the arm of his chair. The second is a close up of his face as he says “No.” In both he wears a black suit with many blue lines. His face is also full of lines and wrinkles. /End]
Where do I even start with this? The forehead M not being cut out is like the least of my worries at this point. The most obvious issue is the very wrinkly face. What is even going on here? Is he super old? Is he diseased? Is he dying? I literally do not know why he’s drawn like that. The design choice to make his suit black isn’t really new, since I think originally it was supposed to be that way with a blueish tint. So okay, sure. But the lines. My god, the many lines. Even all over his hands! And ughh alright, so no forehead cutout, but the CHIN is cut out. THE CHIN. WHY. And whatdya know, square eyes again. Someone release me from this hell.
10. JLA (1997) #114
[Image: Cropped comic panel of Metron from the hips up sitting in the Mobius chair. One hand rests on the chair arm’s console, and the other is at his chin. He is squinting and saying, “Entry forty-seven.” /End]
Sooo no forehead cutout this time, not even an M on the forehead. And the big wrist cuffs are a first. But WOW the most egregious thing here is the face itself. WHY??? I AM BEGGING FOR ANSWERS. I should never have complained about the square eyes, huh? This is what I get in return. Okay, I took a minute to review the rest of the issue, and maybe Ron Garney just really hates drawing eyes because everyone is squinty. But NOBODY ELSE looks like THIS. For real tho, someone drew this and thought, “this is fine.” Welp, can’t believe we’re only half way through with this list. I’m already in so much pain.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Zoom call secret Santa
Thanks to the amazing @made-by-jade-222 for letting me join in on this!
Warning! This is basically my first tickle fic (completely SFW but a little cringe lol)
Merry Christmas and happy holidays yall!
Kaminari and Kirishima are just enjoying Christmas together, but both are weirded out by how the other likes to enjoy their sweets.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fresh snow twinkled in the early morning light. Christmas was finally here and families everywhere were enjoying holiday sentiments, including Kaminari & Kirishima. The boys were just sitting by the fireplace sorting through their stockings, trading off different knick knacks with each other. Everything was going perfectly normal until...
“E W H- do you really have to do that everytime?!”
Kirishima rolled his ruby eyes as kaminari began to smush a yellow starburst [which was his favorite- for obvious reasons~] between two mini sized chocolate bars, sticking his tongue out as if he was concentrating on a test.
"Hey-! It's a very refined taste." Kaminari retorted playfully, pretending to be offended as he nonchalantly popped the so-called "abomination of a sandwich" into his mouth.
Kirishima grimaced in slight disgust as he picked up a chocolate bar from his pile.
"You are so weird-" He mumbled before the red head proceeded to bite into the opposite end of the bar.
"HYPOCRITE-" the blond pointed a finger at the other accusingly.
"You make fun of my imaginative creation while you sit there, pretending to be all innocent as you eat a candy bar like a psychopath-?"
Sensing the playful tone in his friend's voice, Kirishima decided to just continue to push-
"Mhum.. says the one who likes the yellow starburst-"
"What's that supposed to mean, huh?"
"It means that yellow is the worst flavor- clearly red is the best~"
Before Kirishima could react, kaminari had pounced on him, pinning to the floor as he dug his fingers into the other boy's ribs, earning shrieking giggles.
"You're a psycho!" He teased, still spidering his fingers up and down his sides.
Through his giggling, Kirishima managed to squeak out a
"You're t-the psychohohohoh!!" Before shoving his own hands into kaminari's underarms. The blond squealed in surprise before his arms crashed against his sides, knowing full well he was only trapping Kirishima's wiggling fingers, but he was far too stubborn to give up so easily, and he continued to dig his fingers in a steady rhythm up and down the others sides. This went on for far longer then the two realized, now, with the remanence of their stockings scattered across the floor, the boys laid side to side, their backs against the ground as they tiredly giggled up at the ceiling.
"T-truce?"
"Hehehee.. y-yeah…. T-truce.. I g-guess we're b-both psychopaths..huh?"
Kaminari giggled tiredly "yeah.. f-for now at least-"
They both laughed one more time before sighing in unison, both sure they would convince the other that they were the psychopath, but that would come later.. now as the fire gently warmed the small room of the humble house and joy filling their hearts, Kirishima and Kaminari slowly relaxed, whispering a "Merry Christmas" to each other before falling into a deep, contempted sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AHHHHHHHHH this little "secret Santa" was SO much fun! I apologize if any of this is out of character- I'm just getting into mha and don't really know much about it yet 😅
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only Monsters Come Out At Night
Chapter 2: Say My Name.
A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me
Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con.
Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell.
At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her.
“Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop.
“Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant.
It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.
Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room.
Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes.
“Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.
‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself.
The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.
Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?
The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away.
“Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.
Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.
‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence.
“Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister.
Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.
When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger.
“What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!”
“Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason.
‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.
One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first.
“We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”
Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head.
“M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.
“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.
The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure.
Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.
“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”
Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend.
“P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”
The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.
“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.
“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.
“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.
Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.
Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.
Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare.
“How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu.
Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up.
“Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother.
Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.
‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers.
“P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye.
“See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice.
In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.
With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.
Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.
She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.
“DESMOND!”
She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.
“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”
#horror story#resident evil village#re8#RE8 Village#lady dimitrescu daughters x ofc#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#dimitrescu daughters#bruh i swear this is going in a romantic direction but holy shit this got dark fast#original female character will go to great lengths to survive but she ends up falling for all three of them#she's gonna lose her mind eventually#only monsters come out at night#mine#bela dimitrescu x ofc#cassandra dimitrescu x ofc#daniela x ofc
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Game Night
I don’t really know what this is, I’m just glad I was finally able to finish a sanders sides’ fanfic for the first time.
This fanfic was born from the last video, obviously, and the realization that the creativity twins canonically feel physical pain when their ideas are desregard or their function is “offended” let’s say, which I had to exagerate and turn int angst, of course, so enjoy!
Summary: Remus get sick so frequently that those nights have became his idea of a sleepover.
Ship: platonic dukeceit. Or romantic. You can interpret it however you want
Characters: Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders and Janus Sanders
Warnings: swearing, kinda grapphic descriptions of pain and sickness, mentions to vomit. Also maybe some umsympathetic Virgil? I don’t see it like that, but I guess it depends on how you interpret it.
Word Count: 1729
Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language
-----------------------------------------------------------------
If Remus was real, he would be dead.
And if snakes could demonstrate worry, they would make exactly the same expression that Janus had after looking at the thermometer.
"How do you manage to get so bad so quickly?"
"What can I say, being bad is the only thing I'm good at" Remus joked, the words scratching his throat as an unwanted cough came with them. Janus rolled his eyes, trying to seem calm. And falling.
"Any idea what was the cause this time?" Remus' focus went down to the old and familiar sheet, which he fiddled with, avoiding the question.
"How hot am I?" He vaguely pointed to the thermometer.
"You have a 113°F fever"
"Well, fuck. That's a new record" he touched his own forehead, smiling almost maniacally right after "Shit. How long do you think it takes until my brain melts?
"Bold of you to assume it hadn't already" Virgil was the one to answer, entering the room with a bowl of hot soup in his hands.
"Wow Virgil, that was fast " Janus lied, raising an eyebrow. "What happened?"
"I was trying to actually cook something real for once"
"Please don't tell me your burned the kitchen" the half-snake child replied, with some amount of actual fear behind the dramatic hand to his chest and horrified expression.
"Ha ha" pause "...not on purpose" Virgil replied, looking away.
"Yeah, that's my job!"
"Remus, eat your soup, the grownups are talking" the embodiment of Fear interrupted jokingly, even though any of them was older then twelve. Then he turned to Janus again, already guessing what he was going to say "but... it's fine now. I took care of it" Janus made a mental note to go take a look at the damage as fast as possible. They could all be kids, but Janus knew very well he was the only responsible there.
"I don't like it...!" Creativity replied, sounding like a child who doesn't want to eat salad. Janus sighed as his thoughts were interrupted, conjuring a bottle of perfume and poured it in the meal.
"Now eat" and so he did. Virgil raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling, trying not to be so worried. Or at least not demonstrate it. After so many times, he should be used to it, but... well, he was Fear. It was his job to keep track of the worst case scenarios.
"Did he get better?"
"On the contrary. The fever is higher than ever"
"And I also feel like someone ripped my bones out of my skin and then put them back, but like... in the wrong way" Remus added, spilling hot soup all over the sheet and his clothes by trying to communicate with his mouth full.
"So it's one of those nights" Virgil mumbled.
"I'm afraid so"
Remus finished his soup smiling like there was no tomorrow, opening his arms despite how much that simple gesture hurted "Game night while I'm dying!" Janus smiled, with more sadness in his eyes than anything else.
"I'll get the monopoly"
•••
"I won"
"No, you did fucking not" Remus immediately answered, not even looking away from his cards.
"You can see for yourself" Janus showed his game, which clearly meant a victory, indeed. Remus tossed his cards on the sheet like it was their fault. He was so fucking close!
"You cheated" Virgil said sharply, as if it was an undeniable fact.
"Do you have any proof? Janus challenged, not losing a beat or his mischievous smile.
"Yeah. It's the only thing you know how to do" the teenager replied, his tone as cold as a lake in the winter. Janus looked down before he could help himself. Couldn't he keep it down for at least one night? The night Remus needed both of them?
The cards caught fire. It was an accident, but Remus decided to go with that, jumping out of the sheets, trying to ignore the terrible twist that movement gave to his stomach. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he threw up. At least that way these two would stop fucking fighting.
"What the hell?!" Virgil exclaimed, tossing his game away like it was burning. Which was the case, indeed.
"Let's watch a horror movie!" Well, he got their attention.
"Did you need to burn things before saying that?!" Virgil screamed. He was standing and seemed even more distressed.This was a mistake, Janus realized. It was foolish to think they could ignore their differences for the sake of Remus.
"It's more fun this way! What can it be? One of the classics? Some shitty obscure one?" He kept trying, getting out of bed and walking toward Virgil, who walked away from him. Janus immediately got up too, already anticipating the disaster that situation could turn to. A worst one. Because it was already a disaster.
"Please, control yourselves"
"I'm controlled! I'm not the one burning things" Virgil replied, the trace of the tempestuous tongue in his voice proving that he was anything but in control.
"Remus, please. Apologize for burning the cards"
"It's just some stupid paper!
"Now"
"It was a fucking accident"
"We all know it wasn't" Janus almost, almost told Virgil to shut up after that. But he didn't need to make things worse than they already were.
"It was a fucking accident" his voice started getting threatened, his eyes started shining with a red danger "But you know what wouldn't be a fucking accident? if I..." his vision went black, a headache that felt like someone had opened his skull being everything that existed and then not even that.
Anxiety got out of the room immediately after his friend fainted, keeping his gaze to the ground, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stand any amount of time alone with Deceit.
•••
Remus wished he was real, so he would be dead.
He felt like someone had catched his body on fire, then hit his head with an axe, then exchanged his blood for poison and his bones with knives.
"I knew you were stupid, but not stupid enough to try and suggest an idea for Thomas. On your own. After terrorizing him the whole night. Literally hours after recovering from your last..." Janus looked down at his friend, in one of the only moments he didn't try to hide his emotions. Fear. Somebody had to fill the vacancy now that Virgil is gone, I suppose.
"It was..." He coughed blood. "A good idea"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure he thought the same" Janus rolled his eyes. Remus tried to say that he would be fine, but his throat still hurt from the acid of his stomach and the scratching of his coughs.
"I told you to not do anything too dangerous. We are..." he looked down to his gloves which, as he knew, covered up for the scales that apparently had decided that half of his face was not punishment enough. "In a delicate situation, now that..."
"The emo is gone. I know" Remus completed, his voice not much more than a whisper.
"Oh please, no. We are better off without him haunting us all day. If he prefers to deal with them, the only thing I feel is pity" anyone else would have believed that. Remus knew it was bullshit the second those words left his mouth. But he didn't say that. Mostly because he was feeling nauseous again and he learned that, apparently, people don't like if you throw up while trying to talk to them.
Janus stayed in silence for a couple more seconds, then something changed in his eyes and he got up.
"Well, if you need me, I'll be reading" said, but before he could go too far, Remus grabbed the bottom of his coat, deciding to make use of his positions of creativity, as with a snap of his fingers green words appeared in the air:
"It's game night, not a fucking book club"
"I don't think you're able to play games right now"
"I've never been better in my entire fucking life"
The words glitched as his consciousness stumbled.
"Remus"
"You've been reading, studying, planning, whatever every fucking time we were together" he finally was able to find his voice again "Is it me, Virgil, or just you being a dick?
"You need to rest"
"I'm gonna vomit on your shoes"
Janus sighed, sitting again on the bed.
"What do you propose?"
"Truth or dare" Janus never plays truth or dare. The two of them, Virgil and Remus, would play it at any given opportunity, on the other hand.
"Don't test me"
Floating words again: "I'm gonna take it easy"
"You never take it easy."
Remus frowned.
"Ok" the half-snake man sighed "let's find a compromise: I can play Never Have I Ever"
Remus smiled diabolically. So they had a deal.
•••
"Finally! It's been so long since our last sleepover!"
"This is anything but a sleepover" Janus replied, not looking away from his book.
"Yes it is! We're sleeping together not in a sexual way and wearing pajamas.
"I'm not-" Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Janus had a yellow onesie on. "...I'm not having a sleepover with you. And you're not even that bad"
"But I'll be. And in the meantime... Please play truth or dare with me just this time please please" he said in one breath.
"You already know my opinion about this game"
"I know that you like it! You would always laugh and even participate when me and Virgin played!" Janus flinched.
"That was a long time ago"
"Just two rounds!"
"I..."
"C'mon! You're not gonna lose an arm if you play just one time. And even if you did, you would still have five perfectly good ones left"
Janus hesitated. He knew Remus would get worse. It was obvious by the tiredness in his voice, even when he was so excited. And how pale he was. How deep his eyeshadow appeared, making him seem like a dead body.
He sighed. Remus smiled from ear to ear. Literally.
"Truth or dare?!" Asked as if he was a child whose birthday had come earlier.
"Dare, obviously" Janus said, unable to stop himself from smiling at his friend's happiness, even though they both knew it wouldn't last long.
But that was okay. Because they would have one another. And that was enough. It had to be.
#sanders sides#fanfic#dukeceit#tw swearing#tw vomit#tw sickness#remus sanders#janus sanders#virgil sanders#rabbit writes
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Complementary (The INKED Collection)
Masterlist
THE INKED COLLECTION: A series of full-length one-shots detailing the stories of various Haikyuu boys, soulmate marks, and tattoo cover-ups.
Word Count: 6.8k
tw: Death, blood, battle, major character death, disbelief in the system
Pairing: Warlord!Kuroo x fem!ninja reader
Genre: Major angst, Edo period soulmate AU
Summary: Your tattoo has dictated your fate from what Clan you would support, to what training you would do. A simple cover-up has changed your life much more than you originally anticipated. But what else can you expect from the fickle warlord you call a close friend?
Tattoo image is from Google!
AN: Thank you for joining me on the first one-shot of “The INKED Collection”! More one-shots to come, but they’ll be on the fluffier side 😅 This will be a side project, so new updates will not be scheduled~!
Complementary
Everyone had a perfect match. A complementary pair. At birth, a mark appears on your skin to designate what clan you belonged to. Where your soulmate would find you. Owls flocked to Fukurodani, weasels escaped to Itachiyama, and eagles soared in Shiratorizawa. Your tattoos were placed in the same spot as your soul-mate, designs mirror reflections of it. If one person had a black design, the other would have a similar design in white. Your head snapped up as someone entered your room, weapon in hand as you prepared for the worst.
“(L.Name), you’ve been reassigned.” (E/c) eyes widened.
“Reassigned?” Your grip relaxed, tucking your weapon away.
Kenma cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Lord Kuroo has asked that you serve as his personal guard.” He pulled out a scroll, handing it to you. “As you’re aware, there’s been an increase in movements by the Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa clans. More threats have come in.”
“But I’m meant to-”
“You’re meant,” golden eyes flashed dangerously, “to do whatever your Lord commands.”
You bristled, jaw clenching. Letting out a sharp breath, you hissed, “as you say, my Lord.”
“Very well. Lord Kuroo should be in his chambers still.”
With a stiff bow, you trudged down the hall to find Kuroo. Your hand settled on the handle of the bamboo sword that hung on your hip, grasping it loosely. As a woman trained in some of the deadliest forms of combat, you weren’t meant to be a simple bodyguard. No, for all these years you’ve used your skills for espionage. After all, when there are warring clans and a sharp decline in kunoichi, or female ninjas, there was less suspicion and focus on you whenever you were in the field. You scoffed, knuckles turning white. The paper crumpled in your shaking fists before you shoved it into the inner pocket of your kimono. You’d find Kuroo later. Right now, you needed to take care of your rage before you treaded into dangerous waters. Whipping around, you made your way towards the training grounds.
Storming in, you were thankful to find it empty for once. Usually there would be a few people already, but considering that it was still early in the day, the room was deserted. Making your way to a corner with wooden posts, you shrugged off your kimono leaving only the inner layer. Before, you used to keep the kimono on in an effort to hide your soulmate mark. However, since getting your tattoo, you felt more confident in revealing your skin.
“This is a beautiful mark,” Kai, a Nekoma samurai who dabbled as the Clan’s resident tattoo artist, commented, fingers outlining your shoulder blade. He admired the white cat stretched in a moon outline that laid directly on your left shoulder blade. You hummed in response. “Are you sure?” Kai glanced between the mark and his design. He would be placing a tattoo of a red and orange phoenix surrounded by peonies directly over the mark.
“I’ve thought about this for years now, Kai-san. Please, if you will.”
“Very well, (L.Name)-san.” Kai shuffled, preparing the nara ink and double-checking the tebori tattoo tool. “Please relax, and I will begin.”
“Thank you.” You took in a deep breath to relax your muscles. Each push of the tool sent pain coursing through your veins. The first few movements had your jaws clenching, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. You’ve been through worse pains before.
Removing the bamboo sword, you let it drop to the side. You tied the extra fabric to your waist, letting it hang as you flexed your fingers, sharp metal blades clinked as finger-tips tapped together. The silver gloves glistened in the morning light, weak yellow beams bouncing off as you surveyed them. These were your pride and joy. Neko-te, or cat’s paws, were a kuniochi’s favorite weapon. It was a prerequisite to train with them when becoming a Nekoma ninja. But, you enjoyed the simple irony of it and found it fitting to use as your primary weapon of choice. Though it was often best used in covert affairs, being able to use these in larger settings could work so long as the sharp claws were dipped in poison and provided that you were agile enough.
You crouched down, closing your eyes. Wooden posts disappeared in your mind’s eyes, being replaced by three armed enemies. The world went silent, even the faint birdsong disappeared as the pounding of your blood filled your ears. You took a steadying breath through your nose, out your mouth. (E/c) eyes snapped open, launching yourself at the posts. Your dominant hand flew forward, imagining that you were swiping at someone’s neck. Ducking, you heard the swish of a wooden sword, or shinai, cutting through air before you twirled around, jutting your leg out to knock the assailant to the ground. Your hands braced itself on their chest, leaving gashes on the flesh as you sprung over the body. Landing lightly on your feet, you whirled around, another enemy was racing towards you while brandishing a knife. A rapid side-step before you were grabbing onto their arms, carefully guiding them away from your body. Claws sliced through their clothes as your grip tightened, slamming them into the ground and twisting their arm back so that they dropped their weapon. Kicking it away, you smashed their head into the ground, incapacitating them. You froze in your kneeling position before you straightened up, surveying your surroundings.
Deep gouges were left in the dirt where you’d somersaulted over the imaginary foe, dust clouds just now settling. Loud noises snapped you out of your reverie, causing you to glance behind you. The sun had risen over your head, signaling that training would begin soon. Men were huddled in groups, idly chatting while they waited for their instructor. A few had already begun sparring. You rolled your shoulders, turning back to the posts. You proceeded to dream up more scenarios, incorporating strategies that featured your neko-te.
A voice disrupted your concentration in the middle of one such exercise. “(L.Name), please come here.” Your arm froze mid-swing as the metallic claws clinked together. Your head snapped up to look behind you, casting your gaze to him.
“How’d you know I was here?” You grumbled, walking towards him.
“Yaku told me.” Hazel eyes glinted mischievously. It was rare for Kuroo himself to join in the training. Kuroo turned back to the group, letting his kusarigama pool at the corner of the space before picking up a shinai. In battle, Kuroo often preferred using the kusarigama due to its versatility. Being able to swing the weighted chain allowed him to defend and attack from a distance, and being able to switch to the blade end when it came to close contact made it the most optimal. According to him, anyways. He faced his audience once more. “Before we start today’s training, I will spar with (L.Name).”
“Her?” Someone scoffed. (E/c) eyes narrowed as you found the offending party. A grey-haired male towered over everyone. “What does a woman know about kenjutsu?” Your jaw clenched as your eyes flashed dangerously. It wasn’t that it was a bad question. After all, kenjutsu was still a traditionally male technique. Women learning it was practically unheard of. You just hated when people underestimate your ability.
“Excellent question, Lev. Why doesn’t she demonstrate?” Kuroo smiled pleasantly, rolling his shoulders back.
Slipping off your neko-tes, you kicked up a matching shinai, catching it in your hands. You tossed it into the air slightly, twirling it. “Don’t hold back on me now, my Lord.” You stepped back, adjusting your grip on your shinai before you bowed mockingly.
“Now, (L.Name), when have I ever?” Kuroo smirked, turning towards you. You rolled your shoulder. “Ready?”
You crouched, preparing your weapon. “When am I not, my Lord?”
With a cry, Kuroo brandished his weapon and stalked towards you. Both hands grasped the shinai as you parried the blow to the side, stepping to the opposite side as you attempted to elbow Kuroo’s head. Kuroo ducked, side-stepping as he swung his shinai towards your feet. You hopped up, pulling your shinai close to you as you rolled forward and away. Off-balanced slightly, Kuroo stumbled allowing you to steady yourself and straighten up. “Don’t embarrass yourself now, my Lord,” you tease. Kuroo growled, his carefree look ebbing away as hazel pools darkened. Circling each other like predators, you kept yourself close to the ground as Kuroo held himself up proudly. In this game of cat and mouse, you were determined to be the cat.
With a smirk, you slapped the shinai against the ground, sending a cloud of dust into Kuroo’s face. He let out a startled grunt raising an arm to cover his eyes, his grip on his weapon slackened. You darted forward, slicing upwards and knocking the shinai out of his grip. You grabbed his arm, using his own weight to throw him onto the ground. Kuroo’s body crashed awkwardly, his head flying back. As the dust settled, he found your shinai against his neck, your foot on his back. “That’s not fair,” he grunted.
“Do you yield?” More pressure was added to his back. Kuroo rolled his eyes, nodding. Stepping off of him, he turned over to see an offered hand. You pulled him to his feet, letting your hand drop as soon as he was up. He brushed the dirt off of his robes, turning back to his men.
“Wasn’t that cheating?” The same male protested, his arms crossed.
“(L.Name) is a well-trained kunoichi,” Kuroo explained, “using unorthodox methods,” he shot you a look, humour sparking in his eyes, “is well within her repertoire and is something I should have expected.” Kuroo cleared his throat. “You may not know the background of the enemies you face. That is why you should come to expect anything and everything in battle and have a strategy to combat it.”
Yaku stepped forward, standing on the other side of Kuroo. “Alright men, I will pair you up and we will have sparring matches.” As Yaku shouted his orders, Kuroo stepped closer to you.
“If you wanted to be on top, you should have said something sooner.”
You snorted. “That’s hardly appropriate, my Lord.”
Kuroo chuckled, a hand gripping your shoulder. “Join me for lunch after this.”
“As you wish.” You dipped your head to him before heading back to your corner.
A few hours later, you entered Kuroo’s chambers. Kuroo looked up from the table. Food was laid out, but his focus was on the scroll that he was holding up. “There you are, I was just wondering if I should send someone to find you.”
You bowed. “My apologies, my Lord. I was busy.”
“Yes, busy training.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, take a seat.” You kneeled in the spot in front of him, letting your naginata rest across your lap. He cleared his throat, setting the scroll down besides him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I have requested you to become my bodyguard.” As you opened your mouth to protest, he held a hand up. “Both Kenma and I are worried. The rising state of tension throughout the country leaves us in a vulnerable position, especially if these reports are true.” His hazel eyes scanned your face. “I do not trust anyone else to protect me, but you, (L.Name).”
You frowned. “If you say it like that, of course I’ll do it, Lord Kuroo.”
His face relaxed. “Excellent.” He gestured to the food. “Please, help yourself.” After a moment’s hesitation, you picked up a pair of chopsticks, eating some of the food. Kuroo waited for you to take a few bites before also joining in. With your face downturned, you hid your eye-roll. Of course. First matter of business, poison-tester. You snorted. “Is something funny?” Kuroo cocked his head at you.
“I better not be your only poison-tester,” you swallowed, looking up at him, “otherwise you’ll be in some trouble if you encounter actual assassins.”
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend on using you like that.”
****
The chilling grates of metal plates grinding against each other filled the air as you shuffled into the dining hall, blood speckled across your cheek. Making his way towards the front of the room, Kuroo took his seat. You kneeled beside him, running a blood-stained rag over the neko-te. On his other side, Kenma sat in a pool of regal red silks. Kenma had remained behind, serving as the strategist behind Nekoma. All around you were bustling bodies, roaring with laughter as the smell of alcohol and blood tainted the stale air. Shiratorizawa’s forces had been pressing on your borders, and so you and Kuroo had led a raid against them, successfully driving them away. This time at least.
The clang of metal cut the cool night air. The fire of adrenaline ablazed as you cut down body after body. With each body that fell, another surged forward to take its place. Kenma had hoped that the cover of night would help the raid with the element of surprise on-hand. But the Shiratorizawa Clan was more than prepared for such tricks as expected of one of the most powerful clans in the country. Their forces were armed and vicious in their retaliation. You ducked, an arrow flying over your head and burying itself into the enemy you faced. A body fell behind you, causing you to whirl around. Blood dripped down the kusarigama blade that Kuroo wielded, having used it to kill an enemy that had crept upon you. “Duck!” You shout, plucking a spear off of the ground and brandishing it over your head. Kuroo obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, letting the weapon soar over his head to bury itself into the enemy that was behind him.
Back to back, you and Kuroo left a circle of bodies. You would dart forward and engage in hand-to-hand combat while Kuroo whipped his chain around, driving back forces and cutting them down when men got too brave. Claws glistened with blood as you swiped at a man’s hands, forcing him to drop his sword. “I should have made you my bodyguard sooner,” Kuroo hollered over the roar of the battle.
“Of course you would need someone to protect your back, my Lord,” you retorted, cutting down another approaching enemy.
“Only when it’s you.”
The crimson glow slowly disappeared as you worked the rag harder, the acidic sting of vinegar beginning to overwhelm even your own heightened sense of smell. “Must you do that at the table?” Kenma’s face flashed with disgust as he leaned around Kuroo, glaring down at your hand.
“You know as well as I do that this is a part of my routine, Lord Kenma.” Your dry response caused Kenma to shift his glare to you. He bit his tongue, straightening himself up and averting his eyes.
“It’s improper.”
You only hummed, closely examining your claws. It’s not like you had never done it at the table before. As kids, this was the first thing that you would do after training or any battle. To drive away the ghosts and demons that followed after a life was taken by bloodstained hands. To forget about the bruises, aches, and calluses you were accumulating. As an adult, you continued this habit, finding solace in the practiced movements. After battles, you would typically seek a seat amongst the retainers closer towards the door, if not outside the hall entirely. You were reserved; being in the center of attention was the last thing you wanted in general, let alone after a battle. Satisfied by how clean they were, you slipped them off and tucked them carefully into your kimono. “Perhaps you should focus more on the celebration than on my behaviour, my Lord.” Kenma clicked his tongue at you, and instead of replying, decided to pour himself a cup of sake.
“To a successful raid,” Kenma muttered, tapping his cup to Kuroo’s. Kuroo threw his head back, swallowing it.
“To many more,” you agreed, cup untouched.
Kuroo stood, another glass shoved into his hands by an eager retainer. “To Nekoma! May more success and honor flow through the blood of this clan.” The room filled with even more roars as more people glowed like cherries. A slight frown tugged at your lips. This would be the perfect time for an ambush or retaliation, you mused. Hardly any of them can stand on their own. Kuroo downed his cup before placing it down onto the table. His black and red armor rustled as he made his way to the entrance. The golden cat on his chest glowed on the backdrop of black under the flickering fire-light. You stood up, gliding towards him. He stepped outside, the cool night air relieving after being in the stuffy room. “You do not have to follow me, (L.Name).”
“As your bodyguard, I believe that’s my duty, my Lord.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “When will you drop the ‘my Lord’ business?”
You shrugged, stepping to stand besides him as he leaned over the red fencing, eyes roaming the empty garden. You leaned your back against it, arms folded as you gazed back into the room. “You know as well as I do that doing so would be improper.” You snickered, quoting his best friend. Kuroo’s chest shook with stifled laughter. Clearing your throat, “shouldn’t you be in there,” you dipped your head towards the room, “celebrating with your men?”
He shrugs, straightening up. Kuroo offered a hand towards you. After a moments’ hesitation, you draped your fingers over his, letting his hand caress yours. A soft warmth crept through your body at the touch. With tender movements, he pulled you towards the garden.
Stepping under the glow of the moonlight, he escorted you to the wooden benches alongside the koi pond. He relinquished his grip on your hand, brushing his robes aside as he sat down. Kuroo looked up at you expectantly, patting the spot besides him. You reluctantly took a seat, worried about how this may look to others. “Do you ever wonder what your soulmate is doing?” Kuroo cast his gaze on to the pond, face blank.
You swallowed, watching as the two koi fish circled one another. The shimmering reflection of the half-moon hovered on top of them. The white fish gave the illusion of a full moon whereas its black counterpart created the all-too familiar yin and yang. Pale pink blossoms floated along the surface. “Sometimes.” Your fingers played with one another, right foot bouncing. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to meet them, but I fear that I would not be able to restrain myself from the pull.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. ‘I’ve only felt the pull to one person.’
“Mama, why am I doing this?” You stomped your foot, crossing your arms. Chubby fists of a six-year old clenched. Your mother knelt beside you, patting your head. Her robe raised, revealing a flying owl.
“Do you remember your soul mark?”
You frowned. “The kitty-cat?”
“Yes, honey.” Your mother pulled you into a hug, patting your back. “Nekoma is the cat Clan. You and your soulmate belong to Nekoma.” She released you, standing up and towering over you. “That’s why we trained you in the neko-te.” You pulled your hands free, unclenching them as you stared at your fingers, imagining the metal gloves that you had been using.
“But I wanna stay here with you and Papa,” you whined, jutting your lip out.
“(Name).” You jumped, blood chilling at the voice. “Stop your whining.” You turned, gazing up at your father. His arms were crossed, biceps flexed to show the owl, wings outstretched to wrap around his entire bicep. “You are a (L.Name). You will make your family proud and serve your Clan well.”
“Yes Father.” Your head hung as he patted your head.
“Now, go get changed. Lord Kuroo will be here soon to pick you up.”
“I’m leaving now?” Your head snapped up, eyes flicking frantically between your parents. Your mother had a frown on her face. “I thought I was supposed to finish my training first?”
“Lord Kuroo has arranged for you to complete your training on the castle grounds. Now get changed, I won’t ask again.” You bowed, tears welling up in your eyes as you hurried out of the room.
“Is this really for the best?” Your mother’s faint words were the last thing you heard before the door slid shut.
Returning after changing into the red kimono that your mother had laid out, you froze. Your feet moved on your own as you approached the boy that hid behind the wooden column. “What are you doing here?”
The boy jumped, whipping around to face you. “My father is here to pick someone up.”
Your eyes widened as you bowed steeply. “My apologies, Lord Kuroo.”
Kuroo’s eyes widened to match yours, waving his hands aggressively. “You don’t have to bow like that!” His cheeks glowed. “My father is Lord Kuroo. You can just call me Kuroo.” As you straightened up, a booming voice sent shivers down your back.
“Kuroo! Come here, we’re leaving once she arrives.”
“C’mon,” Kuroo offered a hand to you. Your cheeks matched your kimono as you took it, surprised at the electricity that shot up your finger-tips and through your body at the contact. A frown crept onto his face as you both looked down at your joined hands. Another shout had you both sprinting towards Lord Kuroo.
“My Lord, this is my daughter, (Name).”
You let go of Kuroo’s hands, bowing. “I will be in your care, my Lord.” Lord Kuroo surveyed you, giving a final nod.
“Let’s go.” He spun on his heels, leading you and his son to two horses. Lord Kuroo climbed onto a massive black stallion
“Here, I’ll help you.” Kuroo hoisted you by the waist, placing you onto the chestnut mare. He gave you a wide toothy grin, one of his bottom teeth missing. “I hope that we can be friends.” You nodded shyly, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kuroo climbed onto the horse behind you, snaking his arms around to take the reins. His father clicked his tongue, digging his heel into the horse’s side as he took off down the road. You tried to ignore the electric sparks that filled your body as Kuroo’s warm chest met your back.
‘Leaving Fukurodani and Mama and Papa won’t be too bad as long as I have a friend like Kuroo Tetsurou by my side,’ you thought as your family home disappeared in the distance.
Kuroo hummed. You both remained silent for a moment longer. The faint babble of the waterfall occupied the silence. Your attention drifted to the stoic male. Focusing on his deep breaths, you allowed your muscles to relax. Soreness from the battle crept in; your eyelids began to droop as a sense of calm caressed your body. “You should rest.” Kuroo glanced down at you, breaking the peaceful spell.
“Only after you do, my Lord.”
“Then we shall both go to bed now,” he murmured, standing up and offering his hand once more. You escorted him to his room, bading him good night as he stepped inside. The door slid shut, and his night guard stepped in front of it.
“Take care of him, Yamamoto.”
“I will. Good night, (L.Name)-san.”
****
Tensions were high, thick enough that even a butcher’s cleaver would not be able to slice through it. Your eyes shifted from one grim face to another when the door to the war-room suddenly slid open. You crouched quickly, hand falling on the weapon at your hip. “You started without me?”
You relaxed at the familiar sight. Kuroo stood, dipping his head slightly. “My apologies, Lord Bokuto. I was not aware that you would be arriving so soon.”
Bokuto stepped in, his mere presence filling the room. You made eye-contact with the male who stepped beside him, nodding at him. Gunmetal blue eyes twinkled as he returned your nod. “We left as soon as we received your message. You know this affects Fukurodani as much as it affects Nekoma.” The duo walked towards you. Bokuto slid into the seat beside Kuroo, Akaashi stood behind him. You took a step back, taking your place beside Akaashi.
Kuroo cleared his throat, sitting back down. “Recent reports state that Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa have started to collaborate. With Nekoma in between their territories, we will be at risk if this news is in fact true.” Kuroo gestured towards Bokuto, who sat impassively. “I have invited Fukurodani here to discuss our strategies of attack in the case that both Clans decide to attack.”
You zoned out, scanning the room once more. All around you were familiar faces. You had grown up in this clan. The country constantly teetered on the precipice of war, and you were more than aware of the outcomes. Each battle, from a small border skirmish to a full-scale invasion, ended the same. Some of these faces would disappear for good. Wives would lose husbands, children would lose their fathers. Families torn apart for what, power? Greed? What you would give for a peaceful world. A world where you could be in the arms of your soulmate as you both attended a hanami. Or at least a world where you can have mundane things and experience any other form of domesticity. Kuroo cleared his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “The meeting is over, (L.Name).”
“So it is.” You straightened up, making a move towards the door.
“Wait a moment.” Kuroo grabbed your hand. You looked over to him.
“Yes, my Lord?” He pulled a hand out of his kimono, presenting you with a white chrysanthemum kanzashi. You stared at the hairpiece, carefully looking at the white blossom that sat on a bed of bright green leaves. “What is this for?”
He cleared his throat, turning his face forward as he surveyed his clan-mates filing out of the war room. “Your hair is getting longer. As war approaches, this will ensure that your hair does not obstruct your vision.” A rosy tint dusted your cheeks. If you had spared the warlord a glance, you would notice a similar one creeping up his.
“I see.” You carefully picked it up, turning it over in your hands. “Thank you, my Lord.” You made a move to put it in your hair, only for Kuroo to do it for you. The pink roses bloomed scarlet at the contact. You cleared your throat, stepping away and nodding at him. Akaashi appeared at your side, having finished a whispered conversation with Bokuto. “Ah, Akaashi-san.” You grinned at the male, thankful for a distraction from the heat that swept through your body.
“(L.Name)-san.” He dipped his head to you. “I had a question about your kenjutsu technique.”
You stepped away from the table, “how funny, I was just about to ask you for assistance on that as well.”
Akaashi’s eyes sparkled. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Shall we make our way to the training grounds?”
Akaashi bowed slightly. “I’ll be in your care.”
You turned to Kuroo. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.” You bowed to Bokuto. “I will be borrowing Akaashi-san, Lord Bokuto.”
“Be sure to return him in one piece,” Bokuto warned, grinning at you. Akaashi bowed to both lords before you both made your way out of the room. The males stayed silently in the room for a few moments longer.
“Is that her?” Golden orbs surveyed his taller companion.
Kuroo glanced at his counterpart. “How did you know?”
“You look at her the same way Akaashi looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking.”
****
“The heavens seem disturbed today,” you comment, casting your eyes up. Dense clouds muddled the starry skies as the full moon twinkled.
Kuroo glanced up, pulling his coat closer. “Let’s hurry home.” You and Kuroo had been in town, visiting one of the Clan’s establishments. Fukunaga had been sent out on an infiltration mission to Shiratorizawa and had returned there to present you both with a report.
“You know what they say, clouded skies with a full moon bear ill omens.” Your hand fell onto the naginata that was strapped to your side, gripping it tighter. Loud crashing noises distracted you as bodies trudged out of the alleys.
“I believe you’ve cursed us,” Kuroo teased, the clink of metals and weapons filling the air.
“I do believe you’re right, my Lord.” In one fluid motion, you pulled the naginata over your head, steadying it in your grip. “We do not want any trouble,” you called down the alley. A faint hope in your heart prayed that they were simply drunkards who awoke due to your conversation with Kuroo, but you knew you couldn’t be that lucky.
“Well, we do.” You leapt out of the way as a knife went whistling past you, burying itself into a wooden post.
“Ambushing us? How unchivalrous.” You slipped your hands out of your sleeves, flexing your fingers. Silver claws glowed under the pool of moonlight that enveloped you. With a violent roar, pandemonium broke out. You ducked as one of the males swung at you with a tonfa. Wood met wood as you swung your arms, disarming him. Smashing the naginata into his gut, you twirled to parry the next weapon. With a flourish, you spun yourself away from the incoming enemy. The neko-te glinted menacingly as you sliced, staining them red as the male staggered back, frantically clawing at his neck. Crimson poured down from the marks you left. The skin bubbled as the fast-acting poison infiltrated his system. Besides you, Kuroo was preoccupied fending off his own attackers. Your eyes widened. “Get out of the way!” You shout, shoving Kuroo aside as a metallic glint caught your eye. A body collided with you as you grunted in shock. You stumbled back, looking down. Red blossomed over your white kimono, a knife buried in your chest. The naginata slipped out of your grasp as you collapsed onto your knees.
Kuroo’s vision went black, grabbing the male by the wrist and yanking the enemy towards himself. Kuroo head-butted him before throwing him over his shoulder into the wall. He rushed to your side, collapsing onto the ground besides you. He turned your body slightly, dismay coursing through his veins as icy claws gripped his heart. He cursed himself for not insisting on more guards. “We have to get help now!” Kuroo shouts, glancing around. Crumpled bodies littered the area. His hand reached for the knife.
“It’s too late now.” Fingers lightly curled around his wrist. “Kuroo, I can’t breathe.” Your voice cracked. As you attempted to swallow, a cough overtook you.
“I can’t lose you now.” His vision blurred as he furiously blinked. A clammy hand reached for yours.
“You’ll be fine.” Another hoarse cough. “Cats always land on their feet and so will you.”
“But I won’t have you by my side.” Tears streamed down his face, glassy eyes frantically searching yours.
“You’ll find another bodyguard,” you smiled. Crimson trickled down your chin. You weakly tried to wipe it away with the back of your hand.
“But I won’t find another soulmate.” Kuroo’s tears trickled onto your cheek, slowly gliding down to mix with your blood. He pulled his robe down, an almost familiar sight greeted you. A black cat curled on his left pectoral muscle, napping against the outline of the moon. The dam finally broke sending a tidal wave of emotions through you. Tears escaped you as shaky fingers delicately stroked the mark, a choked sob spoiled by the violent cough that tore through your body. Red streaks marred his otherwise clear skin. Kuroo’s hand tightened on your shoulder, fingers rubbing your covered mark.
Just as you were settling into the tattoo session, the shoji doors slid open. “(L.Name)?” You rolled your head to the side, eyes widening.
“Hello Lord Kuroo,” Kai greeted pleasantly, wiping away the residual ink that bubbled on your skin. He continued to poke away.
“Hello, my Lord.”
Kuroo crossed his arms, robes swishing with the movements. “What’s this?”
You pressed your chest closer onto the ground. The last thing that you wanted was to accidentally flash Kuroo. “I decided it was high-time to bear my mark.”
“I see.” Kuroo watched for a moment longer, a strange look crossing his face. “Are you covering up your soulmate mark?”
You shifted uncomfortably, only to have Kai smack your lower back. “Stop moving.”
“Sorry,” you muttered, pink creeping onto your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you gazed up at Kuroo. “Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
Kai pulled back slightly, dipping the tebori tool back into the ink. You offered him a half-shrug before shifting your head back and looking down at the ground. “This lifestyle is too dangerous for such things, my Lord.”
“I see.”
You lifted your head to show Kuroo a soft smile. “I wouldn’t want to find my soulmate and have to worry about putting them at risk. Or have them worry about my safety. I’m a proud ninja and a loyal servant of the Clan.”
Kuroo gave you a stiff nod. “Thank you, (L.Name).”
“Well I recall mentioning that this was a terrible line of work for soulmates.” Your eyes twinkled as you joked. Imperial red splattered as you spat onto the ground. Kuroo winced at the sight.
“Something like that.” A sad smile crossed his face.
“Is that why you assigned me as your bodyguard?” The words trickled out before you could stop yourself.
He gave you a jerky nod, his fingers encasing yours as he held it to his own mark. “I wanted to keep you close.” You could feel his heart drumming. A pang shot through your heart. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that you were just laying against his chest, curled around one another under the black veil of night. Perhaps under different circumstances, in another life.
You stepped into Kuroo’s room, bowing. It was the eve before the Shiratorizawa raid. “Ah perfect. (L.Name), come help me.” He gestures to his armor. You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t tell me that the magnificent Lord Kuroo needs help putting his own armor on.” Kuroo shrugged, sending you a cheeky smile.
“Even I need help sometimes, (L.Name). There’s no dishonor in asking for help when you need it.” You stepped beside him, sliding on the sode (shoulder pieces) over the kote (sleeves of various iron plates), lacing them together. As your fingers danced over the iron plates and leather straps, a soft medley filled your chest. “What is it that you’re humming?”
Kuroo had his arms extended, eyes shut as he let you work. You bent down, fingers trailing down the straps to the haidate (thigh pieces). “Just a song from my village.”
“It’s very pretty.”
You let out an airy laugh, tightening a strap. “My mother used to sing while she bustled around the house at night, finishing up her chores. I would stay up late at night just to hear her.” You stepped back, eyes carefully scanning his armor. “Finished. How does it feel?”
Kuroo lowered his arms, moving through motions to test his mobility. “Perfect.” He bent down, picking up a black hachimaki (headband), a silhouette of a golden stretching cat situated in the center of it. “Can you?” Kuroo held the fabric out to you.
You furrowed your brows. “Shouldn’t your soulmate or wife be the one to do this for you, my Lord?”
Kuroo offered you a smile, the flames of unknown emotions flickering in his eyes. “For now, I suppose I shall have to settle for my loyal bodyguard and closest friend.” A gentle hiss of air left you as you exhaled, your fingers brushing against his hand as you took the fabric. You’d gotten used to the electric pull between you both but it was still exhilarating when you experienced it. Kuroo kneeled, letting you stand behind him as you tied the hachimaki for him. “Thank you, (L.Name).” He stood, tying his sword to his waist and picking up his kusarigama. “Shall we ride?” Kuroo looked back at you.
“Wherever you go, my Lord, I shall be there.” You bowed your head to him. A knock at the door. You and Kuroo remained staring at each other as the door slid open.
“Lord Kuroo, (L.Name).” Kenma’s steady voice filled the room. “The men are ready to depart.” You slipped a black and gold cat mask on, pale sakura blossoms adorned the markings.
You were the first to break eye-contact, moving towards the door. Behind you, you heard the shuffle of Kuroo’s armor. “Let’s begin the raid then.” Entering the court-yard, you saw Lev holding the reins for your dappled mare and Kuroo’s black warhorse.
“Thank you, Lev.” You hopped on, patting Yua on the side of her neck. She had been a gift from Kuroo once you were made his bodyguard. Kuroo climbed onto Tadao, pulling the reins out of Lev’s hand in one fluid motion.
“Let’s ride.” Kuroo kicked his heels into Tadao, galloping through the open gates. You spurred Yua onwards, matching his pace as thundering hooves followed behind.
“You promised that you would be with me wherever I went.”
You offered him a soft smile. “My apologies for breaking my promise, my love.” His heart skipped a beat as shaky fingers squeezed yours.
The heavy clouds crackled above you, droplets cascading down. “The heavens cry for us, dear.” Kuroo chuckled softly, blood-stained fingers brushing against your cheek. “I love you (Name).” Your heart soared. Since you had met him, your heart has been his. Your hand shook as you raised it from his chest to his cheek, cupping it.
“I’m just glad,” a shuddering breath, “that I could save you one last time, Tetsu.” Your hand dropped, and Kuroo’s cry of anguish echoed throughout the streets. Above, thunder rumbled as the roar of heavier rain raced to match it. Crimson pools were washed away as Kuroo knelt there, your body still firmly clasped to his, violent sobs barely masked by the rain. The only time he could hold you like this ended up being the last chance he’d ever get.
Epilogue:
Curses left plump lips as you scrambled down crowded streets. Turning sharply, you let out a sigh of relief. Standing underneath the wooden blue fence was a familiar sight. “Sorry for the wait!” You waved as you approached, chest heaving as you caught your breath. He turned, grinning as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “Were you here long?”
“Not at all.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”
“Let’s!” You laced your arm through his, tugging him along with you as you entered the park. “Y’know, this is my first hanami.”
“Oh really?” Kuroo looked down at you, his eyes sparkling. “Well I’m glad to be here with you.” He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Eyelashes fluttered as your eyes shut before he pulled away. As your lips chased his for another, a pale pink petal drifted down, sticking itself to your lips. You spluttered, pulling back. Kuroo let out an obnoxious laugh as he plucked it off your laps. “Should I be jealous?” He teased, holding the petal in front of your face.
“Shut up, rooster-head,” you scowled, averting your face as your face warmed. You shifted your attention to the sakura trees that surrounded you, eyes widening. “This is so beautiful!”
“Not nearly as beautiful as you.”
“You’re cheesy as hell, Kuroo.”
“Only when it’s you.” Your heart skipped a beat as you absorbed the moment. The words seemed so familiar and close to your heart. A tear cascaded down the left side of your cheek. Startled, you raised a hand to it, collecting it on your fingertip as you pulled it back to stare at it. “Are you alright?” Kuroo looked down at you, brow furrowed. “Why are you crying?”
You took in a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m not sure.” You squeezed his arm, letting the sorrow ebb away at his comforting presence. “C’mon, let’s go.” Pointing down the path, you tugged him along with you. Everything just felt right, like this is exactly where you were supposed to be all along. He felt right. Like you and Kuroo were meant to be together, side-by-side against the world. You glanced up at your boyfriend, a soft smile crossing your face. Nothing would tear you guys apart, you would never let it.
AN: I did a lot of research on this, so please enjoy some of these fun facts :^)
💟 A phoenix tattoo in Japanese culture represents ‘resurrection’, ‘victory’, and ‘ardor’ whereas the peony represents ‘abundance’, ‘dignity’, and ‘accomplishment’
💟 Kuroo gave her a white chrsyanthemum hair-pin. In Japanese culture, white chrysanthemums represent ‘truth’ or ‘grief’. While in grief was the truth revealed.
💟 ‘Yua’ means “binding love” in Japanese whereas ‘Tadao’ means “loyal, faithful man”
💟 Tears that begin from the left eye symbolise sadness
Tagged: @weebintheinternet @settersloveletters
Please message, comment, or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞
#INKED colletion#haikyuu AU#haikyuu soulmates#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo soulmate#hidden-otaku-stuff#hq soulmates#kuroo x reader#kuroo x fem reader#kuroo x female reader#kuroo tetsuro#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsuro x fem reader#kuroo tetsurou x fem reader#kuroo tetsurou x female reader#kuroo tetsuro x female reader#kuroo tetsurou x you#kuroo tetsuro x you#kuroo x you#kuroo angst#kuroo tetsurou angst#kuroo tetsuro angst#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsurou fluff#kuroo tetsuro fluff#tw: death#tw: blood#tw: major character death
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
Amber Valentine
Tw: minor character deaths (referenced), mentions of homophobia, ambiguous rejection (purposely left unanswered so the reader can choose which they want it to be)
Nico woke up. Nico didn't like that. He tried to sleep again but no, sleep was impossible, because today was a bad day and his brain hated him. He wanted compensation from life for waking him up today, on Valentine's day of all days.
He huffed, dreading the day more and more as the heavy weightlessness of sleep left his bones to be replaced with a dull ache. He didn't have the strength to get out of bed yet, and to be quite honest, he didn't really want to.
So he opted to angrily stare at the ceiling like it personally offended him. The one time he wakes up before breakfast, and it's on the one day he wishes some kid would whack him round the head and put him in a coma for the day. He bet Will was already out on his morning run. He'd wake at the ass crack of dawn like a heathen and exercise like a heathen and glow like it didn't fucking give everyone a headache like a heathen.
But he was cute, so Nico forgave him.
Cute didn't really describe it. Will was a beautiful. Nico wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning to the sight of Will sleeping beside him. He could imagine it- Will laying on his stomach with his head on his arms, golden blond hair fanning out onto the pillow, his skin glowing softly in the morning light. Nico wondered if Will had freckles on his back too, and if Will would let him paint them, like angel wings and constellations.
Stupid cute boy making him have emotions this early in the goddamn morning on the worst day of his life. Should be illegal. Nico forced himself out of bed and prepared for the day before opening the door- and the offending boy was stood nervously on his doorstep, freckles glowing a light yellow whilst his skin glowed soft amber. He had such a pretty smile and pretty eyes and Nico absolutely despised him for being so cute and making him blush in public by being so goddamn cute.
"What do you want Solace? You see the sky? You see that giant orb of radiation and death? Yeah? Well that means it's way too fucking early to be awake."
"Nice to see our resident vampire is already in full brooding mode! That must mean you're awake enough for a hug!" Will beamed, and gods Nico couldn't breathe because… holy shit. His smile was so beautiful and he was glowing sunrise yellow and he had dimples okay and his nose was scrunched and Nico forgot how to breathe. He was so pretty.
"Don't you dare, Solace!"
"But hugs," Will pouted, his glow slowly turning sunset yellow as Nico tried to resist. Nico couldn't resist because his boyfriend looked like a kicked puppy and he gave good hugs.
"Okay, fine, hugs," Nico relented with a sigh. Will's glow was back in full force, sunrise yellow with a warm amber undertone, and he was practically throwing himself at Nico, wrapping him up in a warm hug. Fuck, Nico was gonna die like this and go to Elysium, he couldn't function because the cute bastard was hugging him and he was warm and he smelled gorgeous, like lemons and antiseptic and cinnamon and sandalwood and sunshine and sweat and boy. Then Nico realised he hadn't been hugging back- he could tell by the way the heat from Will's glow changed slightly, nervous heat, that he was shifting back into a sunset hue, and that kickstarted Nico's brain to hug back, and Will's warmth grew comforting again.
Nico didn't want Will to ever let go.
If he was honest, he was kinda touch starved. He may have been touch averse, but that didn't mean he didn't need affection from time to time, and Will's hugs made him feel safe and sentimental and fuzzy. And Will was taller than him so his face was met with a wall of muscle and fuck Nico could die because that was his man and he was a fucking snack. Between feeling sentimental and flustered, Nico felt overwhelmed- the touch starved side of him wanted to cry and the teenage side of him practically wanted to consume Will and the conflicting emotions were too much for him to process at once.
He reluctantly let go, noticing Will's hesitation in the way his arms twitched as he let go, like his body didn't want to let go and Will had to fight it. Nico wanted to hug him again, but he knew if he hugged Will again he'd grow deeply uncomfortable and want to rip his flesh off. Sometimes physical contact was like that feeling when a bug flies into your face and you can still feel it twenty minutes after it's flew away. But ten times more intense and distressing to the point it made Nico want to scream and cry and rip his face off, but apparently, that isn't what physical contact felt like and Nico was being over dramatic so naturally everybody would pull him into hugs or headlocks and Nico would freeze or bolt. Except for Will. Will may have been very huggy, but he never tried to force Nico into physical contact. He didn't question it if Nico pushed him away sometimes and he didn't take it personally.
"So uh…" Will began, his freckles a nervous pale amber, which Nico knew meant he was anxious. He didn't finish his sentence, picking at the bandage around his hand instead.
"It's Valentine's day," Nico said quietly, and Will nodded awkwardly.
"Yeah…"
"I already told you, I won't celebrate it."
"I know," Will said quickly, and the amber of his freckles was almost a dark chocolate gold, "I wanted to talk. Can we- can we go somewhere?" He looked just about ready to cry, and Nico's concern was able to quickly override his aversion to being seen.
"You look terrified," Nico noted, and Will nodded, not moving. Nico started to walk, and Will followed him. Nico could feel the heat radiating off him, so Nico walked him to a far spot through the forest- walking helped anxiety by tricking your brain into thinking you were running away- fight or flight. And for a short while, Will seemed less anxious, but the closer they got to their favourite talking spot, the darker Will's glow got until he was a dark sunset orange. Sunrise colours were good- sunset ones were worrying. "Will?"
"I really wanna tell you something but I never talk about it and I'm scared to talk about it because I like running away from my feelings and I need to talk about it and I trust you the most to understand how I feel so can we talk about it?"
"Of course," Nico said gently, guiding Will to sit down. He looked on the verge of tears.
"I hate Valentine's day," Will said quietly, "I hate it so much."
"Glad we're on the same page," Nico said quietly, and he knew that Will would catch his meaning: I'll understand, you can tell me anything.
"You already know I'm from Austin, right? Well I come from a super nice area, y'know? My school had a gsa and the local church I went to as a kid was super accepting and had rainbow flags and funded a shelter for lgbt youths. My grandma was a lesbian and her wife made me my very first punk jacket when I was six. So uh… I grew up in a super nice place. So I knew quite young that I weren't straight, you know? I hadn't really had crushes yet but I remember we all used to play kiss chase at recess and I always wanted to kiss the girls and the boys. So I knew I wasn't straight. And I came out to my mom on Valentine's day because young me was making Valentine's day cards for all the boys in my class. Except for John. He was a cunt. I didn't like John. But anyways um- I ran downstairs and I yelled at the top of my lungs 'mama I'm gay!' And she looked really awkward and just replied 'that's nice, honey,' and I thought maybe she thought I was joking so I was like- 'no mama, I wanna kiss all the boys and all the girls,'- I didn't know what bi was, by the way- and she just gave me this really awkward look and said we'd talk about it later, and then she went to hang the washing. I didn't know if she was awkward because she didn't accept me or just the way I came out, and I still don't know and-..."
"Will?" He was crying by now, a sunset red undertone to his sunset amber glow, pushing the ball of his palms into his eyes to try and stop the tears.
"I never got to ask if she was okay with me being gay because a few minutes later I heard scary noises so I hid under the kitchen table and the scary noises sounded like a really big lion and I heard mama scream so I went out and I screamed because she was dead and bleeding and eaten and then it tried to eat me too but a goat man grabbed me and ran and took me to camp, and that's why I'm an all year round camper…"
"Will…" Nico began gently, before reaching out and holding him in a strong hug. "I wish I could tell you if your mom accepted you or not… and I wish I could make all your pain go away…"
"I always thought mama got killed because of me. Because if I didn't say I was gay she wouldn't have gone outside. So I didn't wanna tell anyone I liked boys ever in case they died, and I spent all these years so sure that she rejected me that day because she looked uncomfortable and sad and I felt like nobody loved me if my mama didn't love me and Valentine's day reminds me of all that and… it hurts… rejection hurts..."
"How long have you been holding all that in for," Nico asked softly, rubbing comforting circles on his back and gently carding his fingers through his hair. Will's hair was dry and floofy but it never seemed to knot.
"Since forever," Will sniffled, "and I felt bad because I could never celebrate Valentine's day without being real sad and thinking about rejection."
"Please don't feel bad," Nico said softly, "it's okay. We never have to celebrate it, it reminds you of your trauma."
"I didn't think anyone would understand…"
"My mom died too," Nico said quietly, pulling away from Will so he wouldn't overwhelm himself too much. "I watched her die too. But it wasn't a monster, it was Zeus."
"I- I didn't know, I'm so sorry," Will whispered, and Nico shook his head.
"I lost a sister about two days before Christmas. Bianca. Which is why I got upset when you wanted me to wear the Christmas jumper. But- my point is I understand how it can ruin a holiday, and I want you to know that I understand, and you're not alone because I relate."
"I'm sorry," Will said quietly, "I'm really sorry." Will moved to hug Nico, but Nico gently pushed him away. As usual, Will didn't protest or try again.
"I hate Valentine's day because I was outed," Nico began after a deep breath. Will's glow was sunset orange and yellow with concern. "I was outed by Eros to Jason. I had a crush on Percy in the past, and Eros made me tell him. Jason, I mean. He shot me with an arrow and everything. I wasn't ready to come out- I hadn't accepted myself yet. I wasn't comfortable. When I was a kid being gay would have got me killed. And after Eros made me come out it felt like suddenly everyone knew. And I even accidentally outed myself to an entire Roman Legion thingy. Then when you made me come to the infirmary I felt obliged to tell Percy. All my life I'd seen myself as creepy, and everyone else thought I was creepy, so I felt like I had to tell him. Like he had a right to know. I still wasn't okay with myself and I didn't want anybody to know, and I still struggle sometimes with internalised homophobia. Or at least a fear of being outed or being seen or being attacked. I can't handle hearing slurs or judging looks or bigoted preachers without breaking down in tears because I didn't ask for this and it feels like I'm constantly being punished when I didn't even do anything wrong. I'll just be minding my own business and some asshole tries to ruin it, because somehow, people just know."
"I understand that," Will said softly, but Nico felt scared- Will had an angry sunset red undertone to a near white yellow sunset glow. He thought Will was mad at him for being a coward. "I'm gonna smash every last Cupid statue and heart card I see dotted around camp. You shouldn't have to have your triggers and your trauma shoved in your face any day."
"Will don't," Nico said softly, reaching for Will's hand, and a sunrise orange began to seep through the darker undertones, like he was trying to reassure Nico that it was alright. "They don't know, and I don't want to ruin their day. I was gonna stay in my cabin, but… I'm glad I'm out here with you. I feel safe here with you."
"I feel safe with you too," Will said softly, and his glow radiated a warm sunrise amber with yellow undertones- fondness, golden.
"Maybe we should reclaim Valentine's day," Nico said quietly. "Make it ours. As a fuck you to all our trauma, y'know? Avoid all the traditions and just snog the fuck out of each other until we both turn blue then do whatever the fuck we want. We have each other now."
"So… celebrate Valentine's day to spite Valentine's day by making it our own? Not romantic, just spite?" Will seemed amused, a thin smile on his lips making one of his dimples prominent where the corner of his mouth turned upwards to form a lopsided smile.
"I'm powered by spite and I'm tiny so yeah," Nico replied, bumping shoulders with Will. "Hey… maybe one day when you're ready for answers, I can summon your mom," he suggested gently.
"Maybe," Will replied softly, "I love you."
"Ti amo."
So they kissed, and they kissed until Will's glow was golden and bright and encompassing Nico in warm rays, and the shadows were dancing around Nico and holding Will close. They kissed until they felt fuzzy and hot, and they kissed until things would have got real awkward if they would have continued. When they pulled apart, Will's cheeks were a ruddy pink to the tips of his ears and blotchy, and Nico was sure he was puce. Fuck Cupid and fuck manticores too. Nothing could take this love away from them.
#solangelo#nico di angelo#nico di angelo x will solace#will solace#nicohasahappymeal#nico x will#will x nico#will solace x nico di angelo#solangelo fluff#solangelo fic#solangelo fanfiction#solangelo fanfic#pjo#pjoverse#pjo fic#pjo fanfic#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#trials of apollo
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
SnackInc 1/?
A/n: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I've been meaning to post it...kind of a worldbuilding thing I made back when Fern was still a newer character of mine. Not really sure if I'll continue it or not, but the basic premise is that Fern works at a corporation that commissions humans out to be used as snacks for more feral giants/predatory creatures. This keeps random attacks on humans down and helps settle cravings the giants might have. Fern's a pretty well known snack but fell on hard times and had to resort to more shady deals outside of the corporation.
So...yeah, have a worldbuilding thing ;;w;;
If you enjoyed and want a story for yourself, feel free to inquire about commissions!: tinascommissions.carrd.co/
All stories are on sale 50% off until Dec. 10th!
Now, onto the story!
~~
Fern stumbled through the street, clutching his wad of cash. Thick, warm liquid slimed his clothes as he moved away from his client. The giant looming behind him chuckled, and Fern turned to face the beast.
“Look, man…” Fern sighed, trying to brush back his hair. “Keep this quiet, alright? Don’t want it getting around I’m offering this...service to random giants on the street.” He thumbed through the payment, ensuring the bills were all there. Once he was sure, he glanced back up to the grinning giant.
Pearly peaks of white shimmered in the moonlight. Something about fangs in the dark was much more terrifying. Still, Fern held his ground.
“Heh. Whatever you say, morsel~.” A tongue traced over smiling lips, and Fern rolled his eyes.
“If that’s your best compliment, I’d hate to see an insult,” he muttered. The giant scoffed, but straightened. Deals like this weren’t appreciated among watchful eyes. Departures needed to be discreet.
Fern sighed. He watched his client stalk away, and tried to grasp what little pride he had left. The fact the ground shook with every step the giant took did little to help. Being treated like food for a quick cash grab...how humiliating. Still...money was nice. And with more wealthy clientele, maybe working in the food industry wasn’t so bad. Turning, Fern descended into the dim alley. He shivered as the drool clinging to him reacted with the wind…. Getting home would be hell.
Slowly, he traversed the desolate streets. Runoff from a recent storm splashed beneath his feet, though hardly drew Fern from his thoughts. With the money he’d gotten from tonight, he’d almost be able to pay off rent. If he did that, maybe he could find some more high-end clients. Spending night after night in another mouth, in another reckless giant was getting old. Most of the bastards didn’t use mints... Others liked to bite. At least through SnackInc, he got the clinets that cared about their treats a little more...he missed the days of pampering.
But damn, having extra cash felt so, so good. Fancier outfits and attending clubs where the high-end clients frequencted wasn't cheap. The reassurance dinners would be easy was well worth a few showers, he supposed. As long as rates didn’t spike, maybe there’d be enough for something hardy. A soup, or...maybe just burgers. Either sounded fine, as long as it wasn't a steaming bowl of ramen.
Soon enough, Fern found his apartment. The building was silent as Fern ascended the stairs. He supposed that made sense at this time of night. Just as he slid his hand into his pocket, Fern heard a rustling behind him. He stiffened. Giants and humans alike knew not to visit the others' living quarters, especially this late at night. It wasn’t worth the jail time or the fees. Some, though…
“Easy, pal.”
The voice was calm. Casual. Fern blinked. He turned, and was met with a pair of golden eyes. The rings of yellow peered down at him, squinting in the dark. Fern didn’t miss the reptilian features on the creature before him, and felt part of his blood run cold. Reptiles were the worst for rando attacks.
“What.” Fern snipped. His tone wasn’t aggressive enough. Fern didn’t care. He didn’t want to be yelling at a giant he didn’t know, especially one that knew where he lived.
“Said easy, man,” the giant continued. He was small, green-skinned and husky. Scales patched across his face, and a black sweater draped the giant’s torso. Unlike Fern, he appeared calm and collected. “Not gonna try anything. Just wanted to know where the nearest gas station was.”
Fern raised a brow. Oh. Though he didn't know if he trusted that answer or not, Fern could take it. He lifted a hand, pointing south. “‘Bout five miles that way. You can’t miss it.” The giant followed his gesture, squinting again. Then, he nodded.
“Cool, thanks.” Instead of leaving, or moving at all, the giant remained seated. Fern furrowed his brow.
“Well...okay. I’m-I’ll be going,” he mumbled. The giant nodded, not seeming intent on leaving. Fern felt something twist his stomach as he stepped into his place. That had been...unnerving, almost as much as approaching random giants to get them to eat him.
Slowly, Fern stepped into his living room. He flicked on the light, and was greeted with the familiar sight of...mediocrity. Beige walls, a beige couch, dirty carpet. Even the flickering light emulated half-assed effort. But, this was home. For now. Fern stretched, sighed, and made sure to lock his door behind him.
He sauntered down the hall, the thought of a shower making everything a little less horrid. Clean clothes, a clean bed… Even with the uncleanable stains of previous occupants on the mattress, sleep sounded so wonderful right now. Fern stepped into his bathroom. He stripped, tossed his clothes aside, and turned on the shower. God, hot water felt good.
Several minutes and layers of body scrub later, Fern scooped his soiled laundry up. His nose wrinkled at the stench of unmasked slobber. He tossed the clothes in the washer, ran a hand through his hair, and returned down the hall. The bed creaked as he collapsed into it, the scent of occupants past filling the air. Fern didn’t care. By the time the smells registered, he was already asleep.
~~
Fern woke up to the sound of his alarm. He groaned. Another day, another customer to please. Sitting up, he snatched the offending device from his nightstand. Who was on the calendar today…
Wait. Fern’s eyes scanned over his clientele list. There was a new face among the regulars... Green skin, yellow eyes, red Mohawk...damn. It was the giant from the other night. Fern grimaced, setting his phone down and rubbing at his face with a sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.
Normally, the ones that approached Fern outside of business were scouting for fresh meat after some kind of falling out. They were the ones that made this job hard. Fern stood, looking over his calendar. For today, at least, there weren’t any taken slots. He had that much. Maybe he could do some cleaning? Cleaning sounded great.
He stood. No point planning the day without getting it started, he supposed. Fern stretched, sighed, and ambled down the hallway. He scouted the kitchen for food, and settled on some bacon and eggs. There was always a sense of pride that came with making his own food. Fern stepped up to his stove, twisting the stove knobs.
Soon enough, a steaming pile of eggs and bacon littered a paper plate. Fern grabbed some silverware, once again checking his schedule for today. Nothing new. He rubbed his chin, opening the file of his newest client. As expected, there wasn’t much available. Most clients went by a first name basis, and the majority didn’t include any other information but a phone number and place to reach them. Fern wasn’t sure how the new guy found out about what he offered, but decided to shrug it off.
Breakfast was quick. Fern took his time cleaning his plates, wishing he didn’t have to go out to the store today. But, one couldn’t get by without dish soap and food. Fern was too much of a neat freak to live a day without one, and food wasn’t a necessity when some clients bought him dinner before having him for dessert. He trudged down to his bedroom, throwing on a simple sweatshirt and jeans.
Fern slid out of his apartment, slipping his hands into his pockets. The jingle of keys signified him locking his door before he peeled away from the familiarity of home. Human-sized creatures traversed the narrow sidewalks, hustling and bustling to and fro. Fern didn’t miss the stares of those passing him. Word got around. Some people looked to him with admiration, being able to take on such an important, and yet demeaning task. Others scowled at him, and some took things to a physical level. Fern ignored those that bumped into him without saying anything, reserving his battles for those that had the guts to say something and make a scene.
Walking to the market never took too long, one of the perks of living in a small town. The building smelled like cinnamon, a warming reminder of the chilly air outside. Fern slid in with a small crowd. He headed for the cleaning section first, rubbing his hands together as he searched the shelves for his usual dish soap.
“Hey.”
The voice snapped Fern to attention. He blinked, turned, and smiled at the familiar face behind him. Kenny stood with her hands in her pockets, oversized sweatshirt complimenting her ripped up jeans. Fern relaxed. It was nice seeing a familiar face, even if it was of a cranky and potentially crazy bitch.
“Hey, Ken.” Fern nodded. He took pride in the ability to shorten her nickname without getting shanked. Kenny stepped up next to him, sliding her hands to her hips. Unlike Fern, Kenny had a more vanilla career. She was a well-renowned tattoo artist. Fern’d debated going to her for a few years, but didn’t know if their history justified her making a few creative decisions while he was under her needle.
“What brings you to market? Finally decide to crawl out of your slimy cave?” Kenny’s voice lowered. While she wasn’t a friend per se, Kenny was one of the few people Fern opened up to about his career choice. She’d never given him a hard time about it. If anything, she almost seemed in awe...or disgust, it was really hard to tell as far as Kenny was concerned.
“Ran out of soap,” Fern shrugged. “Can’t go without it,” he paused to pluck a bottle from the shelf. “Got a new client today. Some giant approached me after a rough one last night… Had to scrub myself for hours, the guy had way too many drinks before he gave me a call. Starting to think he ate me on a dare, y’know?”
“Shit man,” Kenny shook her head, somehow without disturbing her loose bun. “I still don’t get how you deal with those assholes day in and out. Doesn’t it get...I dunno, gross after a while?”
“It does get gross, but really...someone’s gotta do it. If not me with all the magical guards in place, then it’d be someone else, or no one at all. And we know how big folk can get if they don’t get their...fix.” Fern tried to hide the bitterness in his tone, but he could still feel it in his voice. Anyone who didn’t live under a rock knew how bad things got before the Snack business stepped in. Disappearances, random attacks on towns… Even if it wasn’t a well-liked profession, it was an important one in order to keep the peace among different species. “But, there’s perks,” a crooked smile plastered Fern’s face. “Don’t gotta worry about a giant trying to mess me up, y’know? I’m...valuable.”
Kenny scoffed, “Valuable my ass,” she shook her head and sighed. “But yeah, you gotta point. Still...”
“Don’t you go worrying about me,” Fern laughed. “You’ve got a badass persona to keep, y’know?” He yelped as Kenny’s hand whacked the back of his head, but snickered at the fuming woman. She crossed her arms and sneered at him.
“Oh, shove it up yours.”
“Sorry, only know how to go down, I’m not into that-”
“Fern I swear to God if I didn’t like you I’d shove my foot so far-...you know what, fuck it.” Kenny grabbed the back of Fern’s sweater, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back. A dull ache spread along his back and head, and he groaned.
“Nice...seeing you, Ken…” Fern mumbled as he pushed himself up. As usual, Kenny’d vanished into the crowd. Fern expected as much. Kenny never liked being forced to admit she had other emotions besides anger and rage...Fern liked to tease it out of her when he could, even if the result was almost always the same. Rubbing his head, Fern grabbed the soap from the shelf and headed towards checkout with a chuckle.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rooted Friendship
Note: Yay, a new character! Maybe you can already tell who it is by the very punny title. Anyway, onto the fic!
Handplates belongs to: @zarla-s
Requested by: Anonymous
Summary: While alone in the Lab one day, Sam meets a new friend who has a lot of LOVE to give! What secrets could their new little buddy reveal?
Sam didn’t know what was wrong with them. They were suppose to be happy with the recent developments but now everything was too much to take in. It had actually been a couple of weeks since Gaster completely abandoned all of his plans and experiments with 1-S and 2-P, or as the two are called now, Sans and Papyrus. The names were fitting according to the scientist and even though the Human didn’t quite understand what that meant but they liked the names so they chose to not question it.
Recently, Gaster had been telling Sam about how he introduce the two little skeletons to Asgore and Alphys. They knew that it must’ve been nerve-wracking since the scientist was worried about Papyrus saying something and exposing them, which would’ve led to more disaster if the scientist was prodded for more answers. Luckily it didn’t come to that and the meeting went by smoothly. Although the King did have a few questions on how Gaster was able to get the brothers so well-behaved. Sam had to laugh at how offended their boyfriend sounded when he told them this. The couldn’t say the King was exactly wrong in saying that though. Not that they were going say that to the skeleton. But as much as Sam wanted to happy for their skeleton family, they were having problems of their own now:
Sam had been walking towards the office after a long day. They let out a yawn as they passed by the Lab’s door, which led into the upper-level Lab and into the Underground. The Human stretched their arms when they suddenly heard a voice...
“Şค๓...”
‘*...?’
“thē lค๖ ໓໐໐r, Şค๓...“
“*What?”
“ງēt ໐นt คຖ໓ fiຖ໓ ๓ē, Şค๓. i'งē ๖ēēຖ ຟคt¢hiຖງ ฯ໐น...”
After the voice finished speaking, Sam suddenly grabbed their head as pain began to roughing pound as if someone was taking a hammer to it. The pain was so intense that it brought the Human to their knees and caused them to start crying. They also felt something drip from their nose and soon saw blood drip onto the Lab’s floor. The extreme headache lasted what felt like hours to Sam but then as fast as it came, it quickly stopped. It took Sam a while to collect themselves with Toby having ran over upon hearing his owner’s cries. The Human sniffed and looked in horror at the red liquid on the floor before quickly rushing to the bath to take care of it.
The Human had promised themselves to immediately tell Gaster about what happened. Unfortunately, the skeleton and the brothers were unable to come in today.
Speaking of the brothers, the two little skeletons were now living in Snowdin Town with Gaster instead on down in the True Lab. The first thing they did when they got settled was call Sam. The two took turns excitedly talking about how cool everything is and how they wish Sam was there to see and experience it with them. It always brought a smile to the Human’s face when they heard the boys’ voices. However, when everyone had to eventually hang up for whatever reason, Sam would always feel...lonely. The Lab would feel empty and the silence was deafening. Sure, Toby was still there with them and Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus came to visit them and make sure they didn’t starve to death. But somehow, it just made their SOUL ache. And it was only made worst when nobody was able to come even for a short visit that morning.
“*You ask Gaster if he’s sure he and the brothers can’t come down to see you...”
“-sigh- I’m sorry, Sam. I still have to get Sans and Papyrus settled in and introduced to everyone. But tomorrow will be a different story, I promise.”
And with that, the skeleton hung up, leaving Sam in silence once again. They weren’t sure what to do for the rest of the day when Toby’s whining got their attention. The poor pup sounded hungry and the growling from the Human’s stomach signaled that it was time for breakfast. They motioned for Toby to follow them and the two walked off into the kitchen, neither of them noticing a little plant watching and listening.
~~~~~~
Sam hummed as they stood at the stove, cooking up some eggs and toast for them. Toby was nearby quietly eating from his food bowl. However, when the Human scooped the food onto a plate, the dog suddenly looked up and ran back into the common room barking. Sam was confused by this and turned off stove before following. When they found Toby, they saw him barking at a little yellow flower. The Human didn’t remember the small plant being there but maybe they just overlooked it.
“*You gently shoo Toby away and tell him to go finish his breakfast.” ‘*He gives the flower a small growl before going back to the kitchen...’
After the little dog left, the Human bent down to examine the little golden flower. Suddenly, the little plant sprouted a face, smiling cheekily at them. Sam jumped a bit as it began to speak.
“𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚢! 𝙸'𝚖 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛! 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢, 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍! 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎?“
‘*A talking flower? Now you have seen everything...’ “*You cheerfully tell him that your name is Sam.”
Flowey beamed brightly at this. He already knew who Sam was, this was just his first time meeting them face-to-face. Ever since the yellow flower found out about them, he made sure to always keep tabs on them and their apparently close relationship with the Royal scientist. Flowey had been wanting to introduce himself earlier but those pesky skeletons were always around and he could never find a good time to get the Human alone. But now that they’re practically alone everyday? A perfect time to try and gain their trust. A few questions should help to get started.
“𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎! 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏? 𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢?”
“*You tell Flowey that Gaster won’t allow you to leave the Lab, but he won’t tell you why...”
The little plant pulled a sad expression, petals slightly drooping. He knew why the skeleton was doing it though. Flowey knew there were plenty of monsters out in the Underground that would take delight in ripping this small human to pieces. He couldn’t tell Sam that though. Not yet anyway. He just continued to ask them questions about themselves. Soon the flower was able to the Human talking nonstop about not only their personal life, but about their skeleton family as well. That was when Flowey quickly found out how talkative Sam was, having to fight back to urge to tell them to shut up. He had already made a lot of progress and he wasn’t about to lose it. So instead he decided to jump straight to the point.
‘*You’re about to tell Flowey another joke when he suddenly interrupts you.’
“𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚂𝚊𝚖? 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛...𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚖, 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜?”
Sam looked extremely surprised by this. A new friend? They thought Flowey would’ve gotten bored with them but apparently not. They happily accepted his request for friendship and the two continued talking for a while. After a couple of hours, the golden plant asked the Human to give him a little tour of the Lab, which they agreed to. Sam was a bit confused on how they were going to carry the flower since there wasn’t any planting pots around, but Flowey quickly helped them with that problem.
“𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎...”
Flowey gently wrapped a vine around Sam’s wrist to hoist himself up onto their shoulder. He also took extra precautions by wrapping more vines around Sam’s torso. And with Flowey safely hanging on, Sam began the tour. They showed the plant the whole Lab, especially Gaster’s office. The Human noticed that Flowey seemed really interested in that particular room, wanting to linger in there more than any other room. But when they questioned him, the yellow flower gave the excuse that he was just tired and wanted to rest on the office’s couch for a little bit. Sam obliged and sat down, allowing Flowey to move from their shoulder to their lap. The Human cooed and started petting the little plant. Flowey recoiled a little but ended up just letting it happen. The mindless petting only stopped when the Human decided to ask a question of their own.
“*You ask Flowey if you can tell him something.”
“𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚂𝚊𝚖! 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐!”
Sam then went to talk about what had happened to them the other day. As they talked, Flowey’s expression quickly changed from pretend interest to legitimate fear. After the Human was finished, they noticed their new friend’s expression change and questioned him about it.
“𝚄𝚑...𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍! 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚢! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝! 𝙱𝚢𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!”
Before Sam could stop him, Flowey quickly got down off their lap and disappeared into the floor. Now they were alone once again save for Toby who came into the office and plopped down on the couch to get a good night’s sleep. The Human decided to call it a day as well, but not before texting Gaster to say that they needed to tell him something tommorow. Sam then picked up Toby and got settled on the couch, eyes already growing weary from their busy day. They didn’t know why but Sam had a feeling that Flowey would come back to see them soon. They had faith in their new best friend.
(The Next Day)
“I’m sorry ,Sam, but I’m afraid I can’t find anything wrong with you.”
Sam looked shocked when Gaster told them this. They had texted him yesterday and when he arrived this morning, the Human told him what had happened the other day. The skeleton quickly took them into his medical room to give them a check-up. He had taken their temperature, heartbeat, and their SOUL just in case. Gaster even took a blood test much to Sam’s chagrin. But after all of that, the scientist came back with negative results.
“*You ask him that if there’s nothing wrong, then why did you have that episode...” ‘*He gently runs his fingers through your hair.’
“I’m sure it was nothing, Sam. You were probably working yourself too hard and not getting enough sleep.”
The way Gaster had sternly said it made Sam think that they were just imagining the voice. Like they were going crazy. Sam decided not to question the scientist about it anymore. He had already confirmed that he couldn’t find anything wrong so why bother? The Human just agreed to try and get more sleep that night as they spent the rest of the morning and into late afternoon hanging out with their boyfriend. The two lovers mostly spent that time playing video games on Sam’s phone. They were in middle of their favorite game when the skeleton got a text from Alphys asking him for help with some reports. Before he left, the scientist promised that he and the brothers would be back that night for dinner. Sam said their goodbyes and Gaster left. Not long after he left, Flowey popped out of the ground beside them.
The Human noticed that the flower looked more apprehensive than yesterday. He also looked a little guilty about something. He said his usual greeting but he sounded worried.
“𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚍𝚢, 𝚂𝚊𝚖. 𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕?”
“*You tell Flowey that you did but he sounds tired. Did he get enough sleep?” ‘*He looks surprised for a second, but then it’s gone...’
“𝙰𝚑, 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚢! 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝.~”
Sam looked confused by what the plant meant by this as he hoisted himself onto their shoulder. Flowey had that cheeky smile on his face again as he began whispering in their ear. Things that sounded like thinly-veiled threats.
“𝚂𝚘, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚐𝙳𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚋?~ 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢?~”
The Human quickly nodded. No matter how many times they begged and pleaded with him, Gaster would never tell them the real reason why they weren’t allowed out of the Lab. And now their new friend was willing to tell them. Now Sam can finally know the truth.
“𝙷𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚑𝚎.~ 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚊𝚋, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚎.~”
“*Die?!”
“𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝!~ 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝!~“
Sam was speechless. Monsters wanting them dead? That didn’t sound at all like how Gaster described his fellow monsters. Maybe Flowey was talking about more hostile monsters? The Human had a million thoughts racing through their mind as Flowey continued speaking.
“𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕, 𝚂𝚊𝚖?~ 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍?~ 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗?~ 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘...𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕?~”
“*You shake your head as you tell him no...”
“𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛-𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝...𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝?!”
Flowey’s expression turned angry. Did this idiot actually say no?! He just told them that their lives are in danger and they’re still refusing to hurt anyone?! The yellow flower knew that Sam wasn’t the brightest, but he didn’t think it was this bad! The plant was practically sputtering with anger as Sam began to explain themselves.
“*You tell Flowey that even there are monsters who want to kill you, there’s a chance you and them can make peace with each other!”
Sam sounded so optimistic that Flowey was rendered speechless. He honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now. The flower remained quiet as the Human thanked him for telling them the truth because now they have a new goal in mind. His petals drooped as they continued to thank him profusely and even hugged him out of gratitude. Flowey was actually at a loss of what to say. No snarky remark or insult was coming to mind.
“*You ask Flowey if he wants to stay for dinner to meet Gaster and the brothers.”
“𝚄𝚖, 𝚗𝚘. 𝚃-𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚔, 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘...”
The Human nodded as they said goodbye and skipped away to prepare the food. Flowey just watched after them, unsure of how to feel. He shouldn’t be worried right now. Not only is there no way for Sam to get out of the Lab, but he should just kill them and take their SOUL right now. But, curiosity was getting the best of him. He wanted to see how Sam would react to the Underground and how they’ll go about trying to gain every single monster’s trust. Flowey almost felt sorry for them. Reality was going to hit them like a sack of bricks and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It honestly amazed him how someone could be so naive.
Well, nothing he can do now. Sam had made up their mind and nothing could change it. The Human was going to die because they believed friendship could change the fate of monsters, leaving behind a nice family in the process. At least their death won’t be in vain as their SOUL will be taken to that old king. There was no more to be done here so it’s time for Flowey to take his leave. Before he left however, the flower had one more thing to say.
“𝚆𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝, 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢?”
Note: Wow Flowey...that was mean. Well I hoped you all enjoyed reading this fic! It was really fun to write! Thank you everyone for reading! Requests are always welcomed! I love all of you! Stay tuned for more.
#undertale#handplates#gaster#the human#sam (the human)#sans#papyrus#toby#flowey#request#my fic#ukagaster
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Michael in the Mainstream - Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker
Star Wars is a franchise very near and dear to my heart. I’ve grown up watching the films and have fond memories of each of them, in particular Revenge of the Sith, which I got to see in theaters with my father. It’s a series that has introduced me to great characters, great actors, great ways to tell stories, and if nothing else the movies were always fun. I never saw a Star Wars movie I couldn’t enjoy on some level.
That all changed with this movie.
The Rise of Skywalker is a wet fart of a finale. It is a mess, it is underwhelming, it is disrespectful to the previous two films, and worst of all it’s bland. But hyperbole aside, this movie isn’t a complete and utter waste; it’s certainly not the worst film of all time or anything, or even the worst Star Wars movie. It’s just a sad case of a mixed bag where the bag skews more to the bad side than the good side.
Let’s go over what I actually did enjoy first. Obviously, the score was fantastic, but I think this goes without saying; John Williams has never once screwed around, so why would he stop now? His music honestly does a lot of the heavy lifting emotion-wise, as scenes such as the supposed trinity of this trilogy’s reunion at the end would not have any sort of impact otherwise. Then we have stuff like the practical effects, which is both a blessing and a curse as they seem to be a sort of dancing bear for this trilogy. As great and lively as they make the worlds, they shouldn’t be what gets focus over story and character development… but hey, Babu Frik is great.
Speaking of characters, there are a few who were handled very well in this film. In terms of comedy, there is C-3PO and Palpatine. C-3PO is just a genuine riot here, and almost every goofy little joke he cracked gave me a genuine chuckle. He’s really at his best here. Palpatine on the other hand is just a character who is so inherently hilarious that it is physically impossible to be mad at him. Like, he’s an evil zombie wizard who spends half the film insulting Kylo Ren and then the other half cackling and shooting lightning in his big arena full of hooded weirdos while strapped to a big dialysis machine and wearing a sparkling red vest under his robe. Sheev Palpatine is pretty much the greatest character in human history, and while his role in this film is so stupid, shoehorned, and underbaked, you cannot help but crack a grin at the sheer lunacy good ol’ Sheev brings to the table. The sheer revelation that this man actually, canonically had more sex than Kylo Ren is enough to send a man into a fit of giggles.
In terms of actual character, Rey gets a solid arc marred by some incredibly poor writing choices, but overall stays solid throughout. Her interactions with Kylo Ren especially solidify her as an interesting and engaging character, and honestly the whole reveal that she’s a Palpatine is intriguing and could have added depth to her… but they managed to bungle it. And it’s an easy fix too; early on, there’s a scene where she and Kylo are playing tug-of-war with a transporter that is holding an iconic character. Rey accidentally unleashes Palpatine lightning and blows it up, seemingly killing the character inside… only for the character to inexplicably be alive two scenes later. Now, if Rey had actually killed said character by accident and spent the rest of the film struggling with her nature, it would make her ultimate showdown and rejection of Grandpa Sheev’s ideology all the more sweeter and satisfying. A moment at the end would have likewise been improved if she had simply not chosen to rename herself and instead chose to just simply be “Rey,” but gotta have that sweet, sweet branding! Still, I think Rey is remarkably done here, though not nearly as good as she was in The Last Jedi.
But the real MVP here is definitely Adam Driver as Kylo Ren. I’m just gonna say it: this guy carries the film. He has had the most remarkably consistent character arc in this new trilogy, and that concludes just as well here, though sadly in the most obvious way: with a redemption. However, it comes not from Rey, as desperate shippers had hoped, but from his parents – Leia and Han both play a part in ensuring their son’s redemption. And when he’s redeemed, the way Driver is able to convey the character of Ben Solo with just his face and body language is incredible enough to make the redeemed man feel like a totally different character than when he was Kylo Ren, and all of this is without speaking. Driver deserves every ounce of praise he gets for these films, and while I feel his arc would have been far more satisfying if it wasn’t a carbon copy of Anakin’s arc, it’s a testament to Driver’s skill that he managed to sell me such a cliché turn of events and made it work.
This is where my kindness dries up, however, as the rest of this is going to be pretty negative. The story here is just an incoherent mess; it honestly feels like an entire trilogy crammed into one film, a film divorced entirely from the other two films. The big problem with this trilogy is how there is so little cohesion between films that each film feels like a soft reset, and nowhere is that more clear than here. It doesn’t help that this film decides to cram in a bunch of stupid backspaces to everything from The Last Jedi, the most awkward and egregious being how they write off the “Holdo Maneuver” as a one in a million shot at success despite the fact that using the far more obvious “using the rebels as suicide bombers is a bit morally iffy and such a move should not be used unless we’re totally desperate” explanation would have sufficed. It honestly feels like the writers were chickening out a lot of the time and decided to try and distract us from their yellow-bellied attempts at ignoring the previous film by slapping us in the face with tons of fanservice. Sometimes it works – the voices of all the fallen Jedi in the final act was an awesome touch (I hear you Qui-Gon, Windu, and Ahsoka!) - but most of them time it is just painfully on-the-nose and groan worthy, such as when Chewbacca gets his medal. The worst offender here is Lando, who is so carelessly tossed into this mess of a plot that it feels really disrespectful to Billy Dee Williams.
Speaking of screwing over characters though, no one got it worse than Finn, Poe, and Rose. With Rose, it’s frankly just insulting they didn’t even try. It would have been so easy to redeem Rose in the eyes of the fans that didn’t like her character in The Last Jedi; if The Clone Wars can make Jar Jar a likable character, then I’m pretty sure a big budget Hollywood blockbuster can fix the issues of a poorly written character in its sequel. Instead though, this film takes the coward’s route and relegates Rose to a role less important to the plot than Babu Frik, who despite his integral role is only in one single scene. Poe is just handled as nonsensically as ever, given really dumb jokes and a forced and unneeded backstory as a spice smuggler, complete with an implied female love interest in an attempt to try and convince us the character is heterosexual.
But Finn gets it worst of all. Not only does he get a forced implied love interest (who is black, because we can’t have miscegenation in our big blockbuster films!), but he just in general gets shafted so hard. Finn being shafted has been a running theme with this trilogy. The first film set him up to be an integral, important main character, one who would even become the main character…. And then he slowly faded from relevance as the writers put him in increasingly bad plotlines, culminating with the slap in the face this movie gives us by implying but not outright stating that Finn can use the Force. There were so many interesting ways they could take Finn’s arc and they chose the route that is, quite frankly, the absolute worst. The fact that Finn got totally shafted in such a way despite being a fan favorite is all the more baffling and honestly has me wondering what the suits at Disney were thinking. If they weren’t actually minimizing a character as beloved as Finn was after The Force Awakens out of racism, what were they even trying to do? John Boyega has a right to be as angry as he is.
There’s other stuff that’s obnoxious. Leia’s scenes are all terrible and poorly executed, which comes off as really disrespectful to Carrie Fisher; the romance in this film which, as mentioned above, is totally forced, but special mention goes to the Ben/Rey kiss at the end, which while not some life-ending travesty is so utterly out of nowhere due to the lack of romantic chemistry between the two in any of these films that it’s laughable; the editing is so incoherent and terrible in places that it feels like it was done by someone on a mixture of crack and Red Bull; the complete waste that is Hux and his childish reasoning for betraying the First Order, completing the character’s change from a terrifying Nazi allegory to a complete and utter joke; the fact that the new First Order general who takes center stage gets so little development despite being a great throwback to Grand Moff Tarkin and a genuinely amazing character otherwise, with a fascinating history with Palpatine that is never explored and no meaningful interactions with the heroes; the complete and utter unexplained nature of Palpatine’s return; and just how painfully unfunny a lot of the humor in this film is. This movie just has so many problems, so many flaws, and it ends on such a completely limp and unsatisfying note that it’s honestly kind of sad.
This film… I don’t know about this film. It’s definitely not the worst Star Wars film, because it at least has some genuinely good bits to it, unlike Attack of the Clones which I can only really justify liking ironically. But that being said, this film is just so unsatisfying, and what’s more, it’s not very memorable. Not much will stick with you with this one, and if it does, it might be more of the bad things rather than the good ones, which is a shame, because I do think there’s some good stuff buried under the garbage here, but I don’t know if it’s worth sitting through this film to find. This is not the worst thing ever, I really can’t stress that enough… but it’s just not fun, engaging, or anything that will really make you feel anything meaningful, and sometimes that’s just worse.
Ultimately, this film has an incredibly uncertain audience. It’s wrapping up a trilogy in one of the biggest franchises on earth with a plotline that tries to pander to fans in a way that feels gross and condescending, leaving the film feeling like it was made for absolutely no one. If you like this, that’s fine; Star Wars is a franchise that has greatness ingrained in its DNA, to the point where I can’t say any of the films are really among the worst I’ve ever seen. But I think generally this is not going to be a film worth watching, and certainly one to skip in any future marathons of the franchise. It really is a shame… this trilogy if nothing else was full of potential to be a new take on Star Wars for a new generation. Instead, it ended up as a confusing, corporate mess.
#Michael in the Mainstream#review#movie review#Star Wars#The Rise of Skywalker#j.j. abrams#Adam Driver#Daisy Ridley#John Boyega#sheev palpatine#Episode IX#sci-fi#science fiction movie#science fiction#sci-fi movie#Disney
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Of balls and other dramas
FF.net link: here
Characters: Yagami Taichi and Takenouchi Sora
Pairing: (friendly) Taiora
Words: 2200+
Notes: I hadn’t seen any friendship Taioras in a whiiilleeeee, and I missed reading about them, so since tri. failed misserably to feed me with Taiora friendhsip content, I decided to write it myself. I just hope it doesn’t suck.
Enjoy!
“What do you mean you joined baseball?” Sora had just finished her tennis practice when a couple of guys from the soccer team practically begged her to talk to Taichi, because he suddenly decided to change paths.
It had been over two years since Sora herself changed the soccer ball for a small and yellow tennis ball. She could still hear Taichi’s begging for her to change her mind when she approached him to tell him about her new passion, and how she cried like she had never cried before in front of her best friend. Yet there they were again, while feeling her whole body experienced a Déjà vu. Of course, Taichi was not crying, but the whole confusion and exact same feeling was still there.
“I guess news fly fast,” it felt as if they were in another dimension, because Taichi was so casually holding a baseball bat, his hair as messy as ever yet it felt so… wrong. “But yeah, I guess I did join baseball.”
Sora looked even offended. It was their thing to walk home after training, sometimes joined by Yamato if he happened to stay in school for band practice. And there she was, in front of the baseball field looking at Taichi, except that was not Taichi, that was an alien who had come up to steal Taichi’s identity because he suddenly liked… baseball.
“What is this all about? Did you get in a fight with coach Nakamura? Did you lose another bet with Koushiro?” Taichi had started to walk the way they used to walk every week day after practice, as if nothing had changed. Except, it all had.
“Why must this have something to do with someone else? What if I just wanted to try something different?” Taichi stopped walking out of sudden, making Sora crash straight into his back. Maybe all the brunette really wanted was to increase his muscular arms, she thought.
“But you love soccer! Plus, it’s not even tryout season.” The redhead had so much in her head, she even felt as if she was the one changing hobby once again. “I’m just trying to understand, you didn’t even tell me a thing, heck, not even hinted a thing! And you’re the worst secret keeping person I know!”
They were standing in the corner of a street, their fellow classmates, and even random people were just starring at their now heated conversation. Sora was kind of an expert at keeping her cool when it came to deep conversations, while Taichi was the one who got way too passionate, not the other way around. Yet another proof that this was not Taichi, and something must have gone wrong.
“I told you, Sora,” the red light turned into green, which meant they could cross the street now. Their steps, usually completely in sync, perhaps for all those walks they had taken since they were younger, felt off. “I wanted to try something different.”
“But…,” they were in front of Taichi’s apartment building, which was slightly closer to school than Sora’s. “You love soccer…”
“So did you.” He smiled, yet he felt empty. Sora’s heart ached. “And I believe you’re the least person who could judge me for wanting to try something different,” his grimace felt even sarcastic. Sora was trying to remember if she had done something recently to make him mad at her, but her mind went blank.
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” His shape disappeared after the doors closed behind him, leaving Sora lightheaded.
.
“He didn’t tell you either?” Yamato had the custom to go to Sora’s for dinner at least three times a week. They didn’t specifically keep count of them, but it was part of their routine, even if they didn’t notice.
“Not a thing,” Yamato was laying down on Sora’s couch, staring at his girlfriend, who couldn’t stop walking from one side to another of her living room.
“I called Koushiro right before you got here, and he had no idea either.” She finally sat down next to Ishida. Yamato could count down the times Sora looked like she had lost control with just a single hand, and this was one of them. He had never completely understood Sora and Taichi’s friendship, and to him it was funny whenever someone assumed him and Taichi were best friends. Had they completely ignored the obvious affection those two had for each other?
“I’m just worried,” she looked at him, her eyes crystallized. “He states he’s just trying something new, but this was so sudden… I spoke with Mr. Nakamura and he’s just as confused as everyone else, Taichi never told him a thing.”
“What are you thinking?” Her head fell slowly into his shoulder, and he carefully caressed her hair.
“I just don’t believe he’s trying something new, I believe this goes deeper. He had never even cared about baseball- even you can name more players from the national team!” Yamato chuckled. It was true he was not the big sports aficionado as his girlfriend or Taichi were, but baseball was something he enjoyed.
“Takeru told me Hikari said that he woke up quite early this morning. I mean, early for Taichi, and he went biking for an hour.” Yamato had not tried to talk with the fuzzy haired, he knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he felt overwhelmed.
“I think I’ll catch him after practice on Monday,” she sighed, looking up to find blue eyes. “And ask him if he wants to go eat ramen, you know he can’t resist. You’re invited too if you want,” her smile was soft, yet Yamato knew he wasn’t really invited. He laughed it off.
“I’d rather pass, there’s no way I can eat ramen next to Taichi anymore,” his eyes rolled, and just as they focused back on his girlfriend she was wearing a smile that just meant one thing.
“Knife of Ramen,” and he pushed her away as her laughter filled the room.
.
Sora waited leaning herself against the wall. Baseball practice, unlike soccer, finished half an hour after her tennis practice, so she had to wait for him. She was nervous for some reason, even insisting Yamato to join them once again, but the blonde refused to go. She knew damn well that this conversation was something that she had to have with Taichi, and only with Taichi. Any other add to the equation could change her whole plan.
Maybe Sora had even quite practiced what she wanted to say in front of the mirror. Maybe.
The whole school had not stopped talking about Taichi’s sudden decision to join the baseball team. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to be the center of attention, but it was usually regarding fighting Digital Monsters, not banalities. Yet she guessed it was a slow time in school, or something.
Brown, bouncing hair caught her attention, and she couldn’t deny how funny her best friend looked wearing the typical baseball uniform.
“Taichi!” He turned around, looking genuinely surprised to see her there.
“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he smiled, walking back to her. “Don’t you have Ikebana with your mom tonight?” And she did. Every Monday Sora would help her mom with her Ikebana cases, but she had explained Toshiko how much she needed to talk to Taichi, and if there was something her mom respected, was friendship.
“Change of plans,” they both started walking towards the exit of their school, except Sora stopped him when he turned to the direction of their homes. “I was actually expecting you’d accept having ramen with me today? Like the old times?”
He didn’t reply for what felt an eternity to the redhead, Taichi’s eyes lingering between the corner of the street and her friend.
“You know I can’t say no to ramen,” and Sora felt relieved, as they both walked towards their go-to ramen place.
.
“It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” they were both laughing as if there had never been tension to begin with. Sora decided it was best to evade baseball if she wanted to have a normal conversation with Taichi. He could really be obstinate.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, it’s the perfect combination between sweet and sour!” They really were having conversation about food while they were eating. That’s how their friendship worked, they could talk about anything, or so Sora hoped.
“You’re implying chocolate with chicken is a good idea and I just don’t see it,” they had been in the restaurant for over an hour, most of the kids that went to the same spot after school had already left, so Sora guessed it was time to get serious. “So… you’ve been quite the conversation topic for the last few days.”
“Aren’t we always, though?” He immediately tensed his shoulders, Sora took a deep breath.
“You know what I mean… I’ve heard you’re quite good, too.”
“Yes, well, I guess sports are my thing.”
“They really miss you on the soccer team, you know.” And she wasn’t just talking. The past weekend they had their worst game in months.
“They’ll get over it, I’m sure.”
“I’m not here to judge you,” she held his hands, forcing him to look at her in the eyes. Sora had only had a few serious conversation with Taichi before, and one of them had been right before she asked Yamato out. She knew it wasn’t easy for Taichi to talk about his feelings, but she had to try. Otherwise, no one else would. “I just want to understand what’s behind this decision.”
“It’s just,” he broke off Sora’s grip, staring out at the window. After staying silent for the longest thirty seconds, he kept talking. “I didn’t want to be only associated to soccer, you know? And I don’t even care about others, I mean me. What if one day I wake up and I’m forty, and I can’t play soccer anymore because my knees are too weak? And then I find out I’m nothing, nothing else makes me feel as passionate as chasing a damn ball!”
Sora knew he didn’t mean to yell at her, and she could feel his despair. They were the only ones left in the restaurant, and she appreciated the waitresses had hidden in the kitchen.
“I don’t know who I am or what I want to do in the future, and it’s eating me inside. I’ve tried so hard to ignore it but… I can’t do it anymore.”
“I really wish you could see yourself throughout anyone else’s eyes,” Taichi still wasn’t looking back at her, but from his last sentence Sora knew he was about to break down crying. “The way you deliver yourself to anyone, no matter if you know them or not.”
“Sometimes I see yourself helping someone and you don’t even notice. Like, you always hold the door to every person, no matter if you’ve been doing that for over five minutes and the movie has already started,” he chuckled, what a specific example had Sora chosen. “Remember that time you refused to go to bed because Hikari was feeling ill? Or how you took six trains in order to get across town because that’s where they were selling that Videogame Koushiro wanted so badly?”
“Or that time you played Jou’s patient for hours just because he wanted to practice before he entered Junior High, even if we all knew he was still too young to be anywhere near to be a doctor at such age!”
“I kind of did it because he was giving me free candy…” he finally looked back at his best friend, feeling happier than he had felt in over a week.
“You get the point,” she rolled her eyes, Taichi could always manage to find a way to ruin the emotional moments. “And don’t think you’d get away without me mentioning that time I was so sad because mom was late home again and I didn’t have anything to eat, so you decided you’d play Master Chef and cook something for me.”
“Your mom was originally so mad at how much of a mess we made but couldn’t help to calm down after she saw us eating so calmly while watching…” he bit his lower lip, Sora knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Japan playing at the World Cup.”
“They lost, I remember I had to calm you down because you were so disappointed.”
“You’re really the best friend, even to people you don’t know. We don’t associate you with soccer, we associate you with your kindness and courage to step up for whoever needs your help.” The staff at the restaurant had just finished cleaning everything up, but still didn’t tell them a thing, which Sora paid with a smile.
“I understand you wanted to try something different, but I would hate to see you regretting this. I mean, you don’t have much left of playing with these guys and they really miss you.”
“They really suck without me, too.”
“Taichi!” She hit his shoulder slowly, relieved to see his eyes shine again.
“Thank you, Sora. Really.” He stood up from the table to approach his best friend and wrapped his arms around her before she could even react.
“You’ll always have me, you know it,” maybe he knew it, but she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.
“Does that mean you’ll try the chicken with chocolate?”
“Absolutely not!” And that’s how Taichi got to ruin their emotional moment again.
That night Yagami called coach Nakamura to let him know he had been an idiot and he wanted to get back with the team, feeling complete once again.
#taiora#taichi yagami#yagami taichi#sora takenouchi#takenouchi sora#digimon#digimon adventure#digimon adventure tri#fanfic#fanfiction
35 notes
·
View notes
Photo
GET TO KNOW ME
TAGGED BY @magnasimblr (thank you! I think haha)
Traits: Cat Lover, Creative, Non-Committal
1. What is your full name? Sara
2. What is your nickname? Don’t really have a nickname, well people tend to use my last name for that but not going to spill that here
3. Birthday? June 21
4. What is your favorite book series? Game of Thrones
5. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Aliens yes, ghosts nah.
6. Who is your favorite author? Jack Kerouac
7. What is your favorite radio station? Radio? Radio? What? Gimme Spotify
8. What is your favorite flavor of anything? Salty things
9. What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? Cool
10. What is your current favorite song? Sometimes I have no music periods for a short while, currently going through one of them
11. What is your favorite word? Bishdafaken, courtesy of @lordkiribatisims and yaaassss
12. What was the last song you listened to? 6Lack - Switch
13. What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? Bojack Horseman, Fargo, How to make a murderer, Love, Idunno I watch a lot of different things
14. What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
15. Do you play video games? yaaaassss
16. What is your biggest fear? my place being burned down with my cats in it
17. What is your best quality, in your opinion? I’m an empath
18. What is your worst quality, in your opinion? I can be lazy
19. Do you like cats or dogs better? obvi cats, but I like doggos too
20. What is your favorite season? Summer
21. Are you in a relationship? to quote @magnasimblr *runs away*
22. What is something you miss from your childhood? having no responsibilities
23. Who is your best friend? Matthias
24. What is your eye color? Blue/grey
25. What is your hair color? Pink
26. Who is someone you love? my cats Lowie, Lucky and Arya, my mom and stepdad and my best friends
27. Who is someone you trust? my mom, my best friends
28. Who is someone you think about often? my cats, yeah I’m that crazy cat lady
29. Are you currently excited about/for something? not easily excitable anymore, I guess seeing the end of my depression
30. What is your biggest obsession? my cats I guess, seeing as they keep returning in my answers
31. What was your favorite TV show as a child? Buffy
32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? my bff Matthias
33. Are you superstitious? Nope
34. Do you have any unusual phobias? being in large crowds.
35. Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? def behind
36. What is your favorite hobby? my cats (duh), traveling, the sims
37. What was the last book you read? don’t remember, it’s been a while
38. What was the last movie you watched? I think that was Doctor Strange, it’s been a long time, been more into series
39. What musical instruments do you play, if any? unfortunately none
40. What is your favorite animal? do I still have to say? CATS
41. What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? so many, but I guess, @budgie2budgie @whiisker @a-kind-red @mellocakes @simmerberlin Don’t be offended if I didn’t name you you’re prolly in my top 10
42. What superpower do you wish you had? flying
43. When and where do you feel most at peace? at home, in my trusted couch
44. What makes you smile? my friends, my cats, reddit discord bs, the sims, animal gifs
45. What sports do you play, if any? none at the moment.
46. What is your favorite drink? Orange juice
47. When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? this summer
48. Are you afraid of heights? no I managed to overcome that
49. What is your biggest pet peeve? people smacking while eating
50. Have you ever been to a concert? oh boy have I
51. Are you vegan/vegetarian? vegetarian
52. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? I never figured it out
53. What fictional world would you like to live in? San Myshuno with Calum and Pandora
54. What is something you worry about? The future and climate change
55. Are you scared of the dark? Nope
56. Do you like to sing? yes but you don’t want me too
57. Have you ever skipped school? once
58. What is your favorite place on the planet? hmmmm hard one, San Francisco I think
59. Where would you like to live? where I live iz good
60. Do you have any pets? I think that’s pretty clear by now
61. Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? night owl fo sho
62. Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? sunsets
63. Do you know how to drive? even tho I have my license, I haven’t driven in 12 years so I don’t think I can anymore, also I hate it
64. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? earbuds
65. Have you ever had braces? Yes
66. What is your favorite genre of music? I’ve gone through so many styles and I still like em all but atm feeling hiphop.
67. Who is your hero? Hunter S Thompson
68. Do you read comic books? not anymore
69. What makes you the most angry? inhumanity
70. Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? real books for the win
71. What is your favorite subject in school? psychology
72. Do you have any siblings? I have an adopted sister.
73. What was the last thing you bought? food
74. How tall are you? 177 cm
75. Can you cook? Yesss
76. What are three things that you love? lol you gonna make me repeat it, my cats! And since I have 3 that will do for this answer
77. What are three things that you hate? ignorance, sexism, racism
78. Do you have more female friends or more male friends? more male friends, one of the homies
79. What is your sexual orientation? straight, altho probs bordering to asexual
80. Where do you currently live? Belgium
81. Who was the last person you texted? my friend Chloé
82. When was the last time you cried? last Thursday
83. Who is your favorite YouTuber? Safiya Nygaard atm
84. Do you like to take selfies? no thanks
85. What is your favorite app? Spotify and Tumblr
86. What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? love my mom and stepdad, my bio dad is a big nope
87. What is your favorite foreign accent? a Frenchman speaking English
88. What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? Australia
89. What is your favorite number? 4
90. Can you juggle? no
91. Are you religious? o no
92. Do you find outer space or the deep ocean to be more interesting? outer space!
93. Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? definitely but not atm due to my depression
94. Are you allergic to anything? only to a certain lip balm that sets my lips on fire
95. Can you curl your tongue? yes
96. Can you wiggle your ears? no
97. How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? if I’m wrong, I’m wrong
98. Do you prefer the forest or the beach? beach
99. What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? believe in yourself
100. Are you a good liar? yes but only white lies
101. What is your Hogwarts House? I’m going to offend someone but I never got into Harry Potter sorry
102. Do you talk to yourself? best convo ever.
103. Are you an introvert or an extrovert? normally an extrovert, ENFJ
104. Do you keep a journal/diary? nah
105. Do you believe in second chances? yes, but strike three and you’re out
106. If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? I have before and left it at the front desk of the place I was at
107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? yes and no
108. Are you ticklish? no emotions
109. Have you ever been on a plane? yes, I lost count
110. Do you have any piercings? no, the ones in my ears grew close a long time ago
111. What fictional character do you wish was real? Bojack Horseman
112. Do you have any tattoos? yes, 4
113. What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? just go with the flow and do
114. Do you believe in karma? hmmm undecided
115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? glasses, but only when I need to see far
116. Do you want children? o no no no
117. Who is the smartest person you know? Idunno, I think most of my friends are pretty smart
118. What is your most embarrassing memory? let’s not go there
119. Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? too many times
120. What color are most of you clothes? black
121. Do you like adventures? yes altho I have calmed down quite a bit
122. Have you ever been on TV? yeah
123. How old are you? 35 looking like 27 and never growing up
124. What is your favorite quote? "the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” - Jack Kerouac
125. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? savory
I tag @artemisa02 @mangostefan @lovearound5am @simsontherope @toffeetip @lordkiribatisims (if you’ve already done this I’m sorry I’ve seen so many pass by I don’t remember) Also don’t feel like you have to cus it’s a lot.
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Upon Your Existence (2)
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3
Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (ft. the rest of BTS)
Genre: Science Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Royal Au
Words: 8.1K
Description: …and so they just meet each other in these stories written inside these worlds built in their minds. Of course some will be sad, and others happy, but that’s just the way the universe is…chaotic, imperfect, but magnificently beautiful.
As the sun vanishes in sync with the rising moon, red lanterns glow luminously in the crowded courtyard, bringing the palace grounds to life. Court ladies, guests, and members of the royal sphere gather for the much-anticipated celebration. Dancers dressed in festive costume rush to the center stage, beginning their elaborate performance as music and sounds of laughter fill your ears, submerging you in a haze.
You weren’t particularly fond of imperial parties such as this one, overly extravagant and fundamentally pointless, other than the fact that it was part of tradition and a deliberate way of displaying wealth and power. You didn’t like the noise, the blinding lights, the fancy props, or the amount of wine every one drowned themselves in. It was uncomfortable, aggravating even. Your eyes search for an opening to make your escape, hoping that the eclectic assortment of activities will be enough of a distraction to conceal your empty seat next to your mother, the empress.
Luckily you find your opportunity just as she stands to serve your father wine. It’s a hasty getaway; one that you are not so unfamiliar with, as you have taken the exact same course of action at every other party that has threatened to swallow you in mind-numbing boredom.
The music diminishes the further you run, and the air finally feels breathable. You stop when you’re sure it far enough your head stops spinning, still trapped within the palace walls but at least it was a more peaceful area. It was quite, sans the chirping of crickets and occasional breeze that rustles the leaves on the trees.
You exhale a long sigh of relief, finally able to relax.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
You head whips around to the source of the voice, heart almost leaping out of your throat. “Who’s there?” You hiss, pupils shooting in various directions until it lands upon the figure sitting comfortably on the bench. It’s difficult to tell, but you can at least make out that he is a man.
He only chuckles at your alarm. “Don’t worry, I’m a prince not some assassin.”
You take a step closer to examine him. “Are you sure you are a prince, and that you are even allowed to be here?” You eye him suspiciously, his plain brown rob making it quite obvious he’s either lying or in disguise. Judging from the design of his attire, he must be from the state of Jeon, if you weren’t mistaken and if those private tutoring sessions where finally paying off.
“I am.” He answers with a slightly amused grin and a mysterious glint in his eyes. “But are you sure you are allowed to be here?”
The audacity. You make an offended face. “I’m a princess! Is it not obvious?”
He tilts his head to get a better look, making you suddenly tense at the weight of his inspection. No man has ever had the guts to stare so intently at a princess, especially not one as highly ranked as you, the first daughter of the emperor’s main wife. Even princes would not even dare to look a princess in the eye unless they were arranged to be married.
“Who knows?” He comments nonchalantly. “You could be a commoner trying to sneak into that party.” He nods towards the vivid lights filling the palace you had barely just been able to escape.
“What commoner could get their hands a dress made of dragon silk and embroidered with golden phoenix feathers?” You cross your arms.
He shrugs, feigning oblivion.
“And for the record, I was sneaking outof that party.” Your revelation causes him to cock a brow.
“A princess sneaking out of one of the grandest celebrations in the land?”
“Ugh, not you too” You frown, sighing heavily. “I don’t particularity enjoy being the center of attention, especially not when the sole purpose is to celebrate my birth.”
He looks up with the sudden realization, eyes wide but not completely in shock. “Let me guess, you’re the emperor’s first daughter.” His expression is hard to read, not as stunned as you would expect, but you usually have to give people a few minutes to let these things sink in.
“Took you long enough to figure out. Did I not just say this dress is-“
“Right, dragon silk and phoenix feathers…” He drops his gaze, face flushing ever so slightly as he nods, smiling to himself for not putting two and two together earlier.
“And you? Why are you snooping around here?”
At that he looks up, lips still curved upward. “I too just came out of there.” He tips his head toward the direction you had come.
“Oh, were you among the princes who attended?” You attempt to recall if you saw him among the group of what your mother would call “potential suitors”, but all you can dig up from the depths of your recent memory is a crowd of faceless men.
“Wow, I must really be unappealing.” He clutches his chest, pretending to be hurt.
You laugh, throwing your head back at his self-deprecating statement. “You’re…” You glance back at him, scrutinizing his features under the silvery moonlight.
As you take a moment to allow your eyes trace over the outline of his profile, you find yourself lost in how contrasting yet complimentary the details of his appearance are. His skin is glowing with youth, nose tall and perfectly shaped paired with lips that are small but plump. His jawline is sharp but his cheeks are still impossibly soft. And then there are his eyes, large and round orbs that seem to hold the stars.
“…above average.” You swallow finishing your sentence with a blatant lie and praying he can't tell you’re flustered because truth be told he was way beyond average. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever met a prince this attractive.
“I’m honored.” He grins, making your heart do things it’s never done. “It’s not every day the crown princess ranks you above average in looks.”
Your cheeks are on fire and you have to look away. “Well, there aren’t many handsome princes.”
“So are you saying I’m handsome?” His face lights up playfully.
“No! I mean, yes!” You face palm at your give away, squeezing your eyes shut and cursing your lack of composure.
He holds back a laugh, choosing to let his attention be drawn towards the surrounding area. It’s too dark to make out the trees and shrubbery, but you’re too caught up in your own embarrassment to notice him absorbed in his own thoughts. The moon is so round it almost looks fake, hanging like a giant silver coin in the dark indigo sky, so close it’s like you could touch it if you reached up.
A moment later, he speaks again. “Well, for the record, you’re just as beautiful as they say.”
At that you turn to him, meeting his gaze. Time stills with only the sound of crickets chirping and the muffled noises of the celebration present to signal it’s still getting later.
“May I ask your full name?” You manage to request.
“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He replies, lips twitching up at the corners.
“Jungkook...” You repeat, solidifying the syllables in your head. “How long will you be staying here?”
“A while actually.”
“Oh, I see.” You nod, suddenly too nervous to solicit your next question.
Thankfully he jumps in just before the pause becomes awkward. “If you’re free, we could maybe, perhaps meet at the summer garden sometime?”
“I am!” You mentally face palm again, regretting answering so zealously, like you weren’t a princess meant to stay poised.
His face lights up again. “Then I shall be waiting.”
…
Early morning calligraphy lessons were the worst.
Master Lee was one of the best teachers in the land, but that also made him extra strict when it came to your writing. From the way you held the brush, to the form in which you maneuvered your wrist to paint each stroke, he was critical down to the last detail. You didn’t like calligraphy class, never did. Being shut in a room for hours at a time with your instructor breathing down your back was never your cup of tea. It didn’t help that you never saw much improvement in your skills, despite having taken lessons since you were six years old.
This morning was no different from any other, with the sun’s pale yellow rays barely penetrating through the window, open just wide enough to light up the dusty room but not enough for you to comfortable enjoy the view of the outdoors, a place you long to be.
“Stay focused, and loosen your grip” Master Lee’s stern voice echoes from across the room, making you whip your head back to the thin canvas in front of you. The characters you had already written in black ink staring back at you, each more hideous than the last.
You hated calligraphy.
“Master Lee, can you tell me about the State of Jeon?” The query slips past your lips, surprising even yourself, but ever since last night, you had not stopped thinking about the mysterious prince you had met.
“They are craftsmen. Artists. Known for their paintings and music.” He replies, slowly walking around the room. “Why the sudden curiosity?”
“Well, I met a prince from there last night.” You pause, regretting not being more discreet.
“Ah, the eldest Jeon and heir to the throne.” He nods, before stopping to furrow his brows. “Junghyun, was it?”
“He said his name was Jungkook.” You correct, wondering if you actually heard wrong last night.
“Oh, the younger brother.” Master Lee chuckles. “I’ve heard much about him. Yes. He’s quite the talented painter, cares nothing about statewide affairs or politics, but loves the arts.”
Your ears perk up at this newly revealed information. Today was the day you were supposedly meeting him at the summer garden, an arrangement you had hastily agreed to less than twelve hours ago. The thought of it makes your heart pound. Would he actually show up? What if he forgets? And why are you so excited to see someone you barely knew?
The questions continue to spin through your mind, along with fuzzy images of his appearance under the moonlight, the way his eyes twinkled beneath the stars and his alluring smile somehow conveying more than words ever could.
“Princess Y/N” Master Lee’s abrupt reminder triggers you to jump in your chair.
You look down to see that in the midst of your daydreaming, you had let your soaking brush settle in one spot for too long, causing the ink to drench the cloth sheet, leaving a giant black glob where the end of your stroke should’ve glided smoothly into a pointed tail.
“Sorry, Master” You clear your throat, hoping he won’t report this to your mother, or worse…make you start all over.
You hear him release a loud sigh, the disappointment evident in his features. “One more time” He grumbles.
…
The spring breeze is dry and not so subtly grassy. Warm sunlight drapes over your exposed skin, putting you at peace amidst the subdued, yet perceivable anxiousness building in your stomach. After being inside for so long, the brightness of midday is almost blinding, but your eyes soon adjust enough for you to take in the lovely scenery- the calm surface of the pond blanketed with lily pads and lotus flowers, the small stone bridge drawing a perfect half circle above the water, and the willow trees dancing along the shores.
It’s a scene you’ve been familiar with since you were young. The beauty of the summer garden always drew you to make daily visits, always alone, always for the purpose of escaping the maids who watched your every step, away from your mother who would endlessly remind you of your duties as a princess, and away from confining palace life, even if it was short lived and not even that far away. Trips to the garden were always relaxing, but today your heart is brimming with anticipation.
Your eyes scan the area for signs of the person you had come to see, the person you expect to be waiting for you. It doesn’t take long for you to spot him standing under the pavilion overlooking the picturesque area. His arms are crossed behind his back, and you suspect he has yet to become aware of your presence.
“Prince Jeon?” You voice as you walk up to him, feeling the knot in your chest tighten a tad bit.
He’s initially startled when he turns, eyes stretched wide akin to that of a child’s, but a joyous smiles appears the second he realizes it’s you.
“Princess Y/N” He bows respectfully, causing you to giggle.
“What’s this now? You’re finally convinced I’m not a commoner?”
He laughs. “Would you prefer I ditch the formalities?”
“Sure” You shrug, having never been a fan of the rules of proper conduct to begin with. “When no one else is around, we can just be commoners. So I can just call you Jungkook, right?” The name rolls off your tongue surprisingly well, like muscle memory, despite it being only the second or third time you’ve physically pronounced it.
“Of course.” He gazes into your eyes for a moment too long, as if waiting for something serendipitous, but it only elicits a choked up response from you.
“On second thought, Prince Jeon works too” You divert your eyes, wishing your heart would stop skipping beats.
He only smiles at that, switching his attention back to the pond.
You decide to change the subject. “You said you would be here in the capital for a while? For what reason?”
“I’m taking lessons like I suspect you do as well, only they’re probably not as fun as yours.”
“Ugh, my lessons are not fun. I hate calligraphy.”
He giggles. “Hey, at least it’s better than arithmetic and imperial history.”
Your eyes enlarge in realization. “Oh, you’re preparing for the imperial exams.”
He scrunched his nose cutely, sticking out his tongue in distaste. “If only I could get out of it. I honestly don’t see the point.”
“You have no interest in obtaining a government position.” You state, recalling Master Lee’s words.
“Not in the slightest.”
The two of you end up chatting for the rest of the afternoon. You don’t actually learn that much about him because you find yourself talking more about yourself than asking him the questions you had formerly been curious about. Prince Jeon is just too good of listener that you don’t feel the need to hold back on anything. He’s not judgmental, and he seems to always know the right thing to say, which has never been the case with a single soul you’ve had the honor of speaking to. You have honestly never met anyone this easy to open up to, not that you had any secrets to hide or anything, but it was just like conversing with a friend you always wished you had, one who genuinely enjoyed your anecdotes and complaints about life as a princess, no matter how stupid they were.
“And so I told my mother that she stole my necklace, even though she didn’t.” You feel nonsensical revealing such an embarrassing story that painted you in such ugly light, but it was freeing to finally get it off of you chest after so many years. “Petty, right?”
Jungkook pauses in consideration. “Petty, but understandable. I mean, she only visited you to receive gifts, and she didn’t even want to be friends with you. Of course you had to find some way to get your mother to stop inviting her over.”
“Exactly!” You exasperate, finally feeling validated. “And here I thought I would never be forgiven for my sins.”
Your outburst makes him laugh. You were about to join him until you feel the side of your shoe break. Looking down, you see the whites of your sock poking through the silken fabric and the sole flapping down when you lift your foot.
“My mother is going to kill me.” You groan. “You would think the shoemaker would choose more durable material for the royal family.”
“I guess he didn’t anticipate the princess being on her feet for hours.”
You look around to gauge how far you are from the palace; mentally calculating how much more damage you could do if you decide to hobble back on one foot. The summer garden wasn’t that far from the outer walls, perhaps you could make it back with clean socks if you are careful. Only that would probably take double the amount of time, and a glance at the sky tells you the sun is quickly inching closer and closer to the horizon.
Jungkook senses your contemplation. “If you allow it, I can carry you back,” He offers.
You turn to stare at him in disbelief, sensing your cheeks heating up at the thought. “C-carry me?”
He nods as if it was the most normal circumstance to be in, and it only makes your heart pound faster.
“I’m r-really h-heavy though.” You stutter, swallowing the saliva that had built in your mouth.
“I’m really strong though” He smirks, tilting his head suggestively.
You almost choke at his gesture. “I- I m-mean, ok-”
You aren’t even allowed to finish your sentence before he sweeps you off your feet bridal style. Holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut, you can feel the firm muscles of his arms on the back of your thighs and curving around your back. Swinging your arms around his neck in fear of falling off, you pray that he can’t hear how loud the thumping in your chest is.
“So tell me about the time you purposely got sick just to skip class.”
“Oh god, you really want to know the details?” You feel the knots in your stomach loosen and your heart slowing down. Either he can tell that you’re nervous, or the part about him knowing exactly the right thing to say is so true it’s uncanny, you decide it’s better to not question it.
The sun was beginning to set, making you wonder where the time had gone. If only all of your private lessons passed by this quickly you’d really be set. Lost in your thoughts and wishes, you continue your stories as he carries you securely all the way back.
…
You end up meeting Prince Jeon in the garden many more times after that. Spending most of your time chatting, over anything and everything, or just strolling around in silence enjoying each other’s company.
The garden hadn’t changed in all the years you played in it when you were younger, but being here with someone you were slowly falling in love with was an entirely new experience. You could never get enough of that feeling of being with him, listening to his voice tell you words you didn’t even know you wanted to hear, meeting his gaze and catching glimpses of the way he looked at you as if you were the prettiest girl in the world.
You still remember the first time he suggested sneaking down to the village, dressed in commoner’s wardrobe consisting of ragged pants and a brown robe much like the one you had seen him sport the first night you met him.
“No peeking” You warn, looking to make sure he’s looking the other way before you undress.
“I won’t,” He assures with his back still facing you.
You had quickly removed your silken robe to put on the scruffy brown one, glad that it fit well enough to not look like stolen clothing.
“Now we are both commoners.” He giggles, eyes crinkling at the edges.
And just like that, you sneak out of the palace without the knowledge of the royal guards or the maids responsible for having their eyes on you. It’s a short trip once you get past the assorted gardens and the spacious homes of the nobles that encircle the palace just outside the impenetrable stonewalls.
You had only ever captured glimpses of these kinds of villages through the curtain of your horse drawn carriage on those rare instances you traveled for royal affairs, mostly to accompany your father on his visits other states. You had never imagines one day walking along a busy street, exploring the endless commodity stalls and restaurants clustered along cobblestone roads packed with people.
It was thrilling, seeing so many new things and tasting food you’re sure you aren’t allowed to eat, to go where you wanted and not worry about conducting yourself the way you have been told to all your life. You felt uninhibited, and you absolutely loved it.
You loved laughing so hard your belly hurt. You especially loved watching Jungkook’s eyes light up when he found something exciting to show you and his smile when you react in an equally fascinated way. You loved hearing his laughter ring through the air that embraces you, the look on his face when he puts something delicious in his mouth and subsequently offers some for you to try, and his enthusiastic voice when he spots a place he’s sure you’ll like, which you always do. And most of all, you loved the way he intertwined your hands as if proving to the universe that they were meant to remain that way, forming a perfect pair like the sun and the moon. He would hold one to you tightly, leading you through the streets of the crowded village and making sure you were never separated, making sure you were always together.
Everything felt too good to be true, and just when you thought life as a princess was finally starting to become tolerable with the aid of these escapades; you are proven to have spoken too soon.
…
It’s always when things are steadily going well in your life that people have to come and ruin it.
Your future marriage was the one subject you despised more than calligraphy class, and leave it to your mother to guilt trip you with mentions of your responsibility as the daughter of the emperor and how hard your father has worked and will work to build an even stronger empire. So of course you are obligated to agree to whomever she deems the best arrangement for the sake of your ruling family, even if that person was someone you had never met. You had avoided it for as long as you could, but being at the age you were, it was only a matter of time before the agreement had to be settled.
“You’re still going down to that garden to play?” You’re mothers voice rings across the empty hallway just as you were about to leave the palace. You hear her exhale loudly, and you were not in the mood to deal with her.
“It’s one of my favorite places.” You defend, feeling a bit annoyed at her attitude towards you and the things you loved, although you should be used to it by now.
“You’ll never grow up, will you?” She shakes her head powerlessly, acting like she wasn’t one of the main reasons you felt the need to escape in the first place.
“Nope” You answer, running off and allowing your legs to carry you faster than they normally do, wanting nothing more than to get out of that prison of a palace, that life you wished you were never born into.
You try to block out the thoughts of the conversation you had had with her the night before as you race to the usual meeting spot, almost bursting into tears when you see the only person you ever really want to see.
“Jungkook!” You shout as you jump into his arms, relishing in the manner he lifts and twirls you around in the air so effortlessly.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, when he senses something is not right.
“I, umm, have something to tell you…” You swallow, trying to figure out the best way to break the news. After all, he of all people deserves to know. “My marriage arrangement has been settled.”
There’s a suffocating pause.
“And you’ve agreed to it?” He doesn’t look at you directly, choosing to instead stare blankly at the blooming flowers on the ground.
You search for signs of disappointment, almost in desperation, but find his countenance impossible to read.
“I had to…I’m of age...” You murmur, swallowing thickly.
“Is it some old king who has offered your father his land in exchange?” His voice is stiff, and you can see his jaw clench. “Or perhaps command of his army?”
“Are you implying my parents would throw me under the bus for the sake of the empire?” You glare at him more sharply than you intend to, feeling your blood start to boil.
He looks up to meet your eyes. “I’m not saying that’s what I’m saying… but that’s exactly what I’m saying.” He inhales heavily. “What’s the point in being the emperor’s eldest daughter if you can’t even make your own decisions?”
“The point is, I have a choice…” You swallow tautly, quickly losing confidence in your own statement. It wasn't a complete lie, but anyone even remotely familiar with the imperial system would know that royal weddings are for the sole purpose of keeping peace between the warring states. Only a fool would believe personal preference was ever taken into account, even if one was the emperor’s eldest daughter and crown princess.
“To choose among those already chosen?” His words aren’t in any way mocking, though you had expected them to be based on how he’s expressed his opinions so far. His tone is rather despondent, and you find it difficult to determine what his stance on the matter is. He doesn’t sound like he cares, in fact, why should he? But at the same time, his expression tells a different story.
“I’ve already chosen Yifan from the State of Wu.” Now you are actually lying. You avoid his gaze as the memory of how your mother had convinced you to agree to the arrangement on the fact that relations between your father’s empire and the State of Wu have always been rocky at best.
“The Prince of Wu, huh?” Prince Jeon nods, staring blankly at the ground and refraining from commenting further.
You cross your arms, unsatisfied with his partial response that you don’t even know what to do with. “What? Is he not a good choice?”
He looks up. “Oh no, no. I have nothing against your…choice…” He walks over to examine the old willow tree by the pond, pretending to be partially distracted which only elevates your annoyance at his evasiveness. “He just doesn’t seem like your…type…”
You smirk at his last sentence. “And how would you know what my typeis?” You counter in the same tone as you walk over to grab his attention.
He turns around just as you sneak up behind him and almost knocks you backwards in the process, but he slings his arm around your waist just before you stumble. “Someone’s who’s not going around collecting concubines.” He flashes you another one of his amused smiles and you can feel his warm breath flutter over your parted lips.
You had heard rumors of Prince Wu’s promiscuous activities, but you didn’t know word had spread beyond the boundary of maid’s gossip.
You groan in defeat, realizing he had seen right through you from the beginning. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” You reveal the truth in a dejected murmur, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.
There’s a long pause and you fear that he really doesn’t care enough to comfort you anymore, but when you look up to meet his soft gaze that had never left you, you’re unable to move an inch.
“Run away with me.” His hold around your waist is steady, and his eyes are so sincere you forget to breathe.
Your mouth drops open at his statement, at loss for words or any kind of response for that matter.
“There are lands beyond this empire, magnificent places where you and I can be free from all of this that we have no say over.” He gives you a firm, confident squeeze, eagerness written all over his features. “Wouldn’t you like that as well?” He adds in a more tender manner.
“R-Run away?” You repeat, slowly slipping out of his embrace in an attempt to clear your mind because god knows you can’t think straight when his lips are mere centimeters from your face looking so luscious and soft.
“We can leave at dawn,” He asserts, placing his hands on each side of your shoulders and forcing you to look him in the eyes. The sunlight reflecting off his glassy pupils is enough to convey his longing for you to say yes, and in that moment, you can’t stop yourself from doing so even if you wanted to because truth be told, he could’ve proposed to jump off a cliff together and you would gladly accept.
…
The following morning happens in a blur.
Jungkook comes for you exactly as he had said, at dawn when the first light of the daybreak sun has barely emerged above the treetops. It's dark, and you are not entirely awake. Everything is delivered in hushed voices and whispers of encouragement. You remember your frenzied thoughts, the torrent of worries and questions that spin in your head. They do not plan on slowing down anytime soon, but Jungkook’s grip on your had is the only sedative you need. It's an unspoken promise to protect you, to never let you go.
And that is more than enough to prevent you from looking back. Not when the sunlight finally hits the palace walls, not when it cascades over the summer garden like a sheet of gold, and not even when the last sights of your former home disappears in the distance.
“Will you miss it?” Jungkook’s voice is soft as you continue to stare at the path in front, not realizing you hadn’t said a word to him since the two of you snuck out of the capital. It must have been hours, and he hadn’t disturbed the silence until now, giving you much needed space to let this all sink in.
“I don’t know.” You answer truthfully, still trying to make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t that easy to figure out. You had never done something so daring, so unplanned, so…borderline insane. You couldn’t possibly feel nothing, but would you really miss a place you had always wanted to leave?
“I will” He exhales. “I’ll miss my family, my room, going hunting with my father, the only place I ever knew…”
“So you regret it already?” You cut in, confused by his confession.
He shakes his head, smiling as he searches in your eyes. “I don’t regret any of this.” He holds up your interlinked hands, giving you a tight squeeze. “I never will.”
There’s an uplifting firmness in his tone, full of hope and life, and it makes you certain you won’t ever regret any of this either.
Jungkook had packed enough food to last until the two of you make it to the next village, according to the map he had on hand. You hadn’t even thought of the preparations he had made for this journey, but judging by all the things he was carrying, this was far from a last minute decision.
“You made this yourself?” You examine the flower shaped rice cakes in the small tin box, studying the intricate details and wondering how he managed to make something so beautiful.
“It’s probably nothing compared to what the royal cook makes, but everything tastes good when you’re hungry right?” He takes a bit and you follow suit.
The sweetness of the pastry engulfs your taste buds, making you gasp. “They’re delicious!” You compliment with your mouth full, blushing when he smiles as your delight and gazes lovingly into your eyes.
It is not long before you are back on your feet, making your way along the trail. The path winds into the forest, making it difficult to see the end, not that you could tell if it even had one. You were aware the two of you were walking on an incline, knowing that an impenetrable mountain range acted as a fortress around the capital city. They always looked so far away from atop the palace walls at the watchtower, so majestic and foreboding. You would’ve never imagined you’d one day be hiking up them like this.
“This is going to be a long trip, isn't it?” You sigh heavily, already feeling your legs getting sore. You had never walk for this long, let alone treaded up mountains. You vaguely wonder how Jungkook can carry everything he is and not feel tired.
“I prefer to call it a quest.”
You burst into laughter. “A quest?”
“Sounds more fun that way” He grins.
“How do you know all of this?” You’re suddenly hit with the urge to inquire, having forgotten to ask him how he had planned such a big move.
“All of what?” He smiles playfully, verging on mischievous.
“About the lands beyond my father’s empire.” You gesture to the endless plains below, the farmlands and rice paddies, all the way to where the celestial sky meets the earth. “Ever since I was young, my mother had always told me all the lands beneath this sky belonged to my family, or at least will eventually once all the states are united.”
You hear him chuckle lightly. “I read about it once. In a book I found in the forbidden library. Don’t ask how I got there. I was five and there was a secret passage.” He grins to himself as he recalls the foggy memory.
“And ever since then, you’ve wanted to run away?”
“Oh, no” He shakes his head, laughing even harder. “I was way to scared to do that…” He falls silent. “…until I met you…”
…
Days pass so naturally, you lose track of time.
The mountains are endless, but the world is breathtaking. You visit quint little villages with children running around, bustling towns full of goods from across the land, and quite farms that extend for miles on end. You travel through various forest filled with the unique scents of varying flora, past grasslands that ripple in the wind, along rivers leading to vast lakes and spectacular waterfalls, witnessing the raw beauty that had been denied to you all your life; places you would’ve never gotten to see had you not chosen to run away with him, and for that you are already eternally grateful.
Sometimes you find him observing the wild flowers on the side of the road, braiding their stems together and creating colorful bracelets that he’s always ecstatic to gift you. Most of all, you liked to watch him when he didn’t know you were there, admiring the care and concentration he pours into anything he does. You’ve memorized the way his eyebrows are knitted and pupils are trained on the object in his hands, almost able to feel the force of his devotion even as a bystander.
You had never seen a man take the time to create something so delicate, something that required so much patience to come to fruition. Your brothers and all the royal men you’ve met in your life had glorified activities such as sword fighting, archery, and horseback riding while poking fun of weaving and braiding as things only suited for women and the weak. But here you were presented with a man who has proven his strength time and time again take part in such a meticulous act while genuinely enjoying the process.
You’ve grown up learning that men were aggressive, controlling and assertive, but Jungkook was affectionate, compassionate, and gentle. He is the rain that showers the earth with love in the form of liquid crystals, the sun that rises each morning without fail, the soft wind that whispers secrets in your ear. He is an open book that invites you to read and turns out to be a story you can never forget.
You are lying in his arms late one evening, hidden under the arbors of giant trees, when a random thought strikes you.
“Are we any different from criminals now that we’ve essentially broken the law?”
Jungkook hums softly. “Well, I am not a prince anymore, and you are not a princess.”
“We are just commoners then?” You draw circles on his chest, calmed by the motion of his breathing.
“Hmm, I think lost stars would be a more accurate description.”
“Lost stars?”
He points at an opening between the branches, exposing the sky that is now a dark expanse dotted with gems. It’s a view you had never spent enough time looking at, but now that you are, it’s mesmerizing.
“They are so far apart, and yet from here, they look like they are right next to each other, mingling in a place that would be empty without their light.” He turns to cradle you in his arms, an action you are more than willing to welcome.
His body is so warm that you didn’t realize how cold you were until his skin came into contact with yours. Your eyelids are heavy, and you have to fight the slumber that is trying to overcome you. You want to stay awake, to listen to his soothing voice tell you more about the stars, but it’s a battle you cannot win.
Your last thought is not tainted by the fear that he might be gone the next morning because you know you will wake up in his arms. You don’t think you’ll ever be more certain of anything.
…
The cool blue sky merging with the warm glow of the orange sunset is a color combination engraved in your heart.
Along with the mountains casting shadows over the grasslands and the sound of roaring waterfalls that never falter, it is a continuous reminder that this moment had not stilled and that the world is still in motion. Time is flowing like the stream that weaves through the valley, and your heart has never felt so full.
You let your eyes settle on the man standing next to you, his lips glistening from the waning light, hair ruffling in the breeze. He is engrossed by the scenery, but you are enchanted by the sunset reflected in his eyes.
It almost makes you feel guilty for not fully appreciating the beauty that surrounds you in a moment as rare as this, but he is too captivating, the way his features fully capture the essence of the splendor you have soaked in for the past few weeks.
Tracing along the outline of his profile, your breath hitches when he suddenly turns to catch you staring at him. His lips curve upwards matching the dreamy look in his eyes and the faint flush of his cheeks.
You forget to take your next breath as he leans in, irises previously reflecting the sun now reflecting the most dazzling image of you.
“May I?” He whispers, his lips already lightly brushing yours.
You nod, closing your eyes when he presses his lips deeply against yours, sending shock waves running up your body. You can feel his hands secure your waist, making sure you don’t lose your balance. There is no urgency in his movement, no unhinged desire displayed by his tongue, but instead the action is coated with a tenderness that speaks of unbroken promises. It’s calm like the sunset that was slowing fading, flickering like the stars that were gradually appearing, and delicate much like the way he braids flowers.
And it is there on the edge of a cliff overlooking the land beneath the earth’s sky, that you share your first and last kiss with Prince Jeon Jungkook.
…
Maybe you had underestimated the power of your father’s army, or maybe this was fate’s way of punishing you for breaking the rules.
You can feel his hand gripping yours as the two of you run as fast as your legs can carry you, and you know he can get away if you just let go, if you just stopped and turned yourself in. The imperial soldiers were really only after you, and maybe if you gave in now, they would spare Prince Jeon’s life and let him flee.
“J-Jung-Kook” You croak between your heavy breathing and your quick glances to check if the men on horseback were closing in. You allow your hold on his hand to loosen.
“I- know what you’re-thinking” He says, gripping your hand even tighter, preventing you from making the sacrifice you had been mulling over.
His words are reassuring, but there’s an undertone of desperation that hints at something more. You don’t have the time or concentration to figure out what it is, but your ears are thankfully sharp enough to pick up his last plea.
“Please, never let go of me” It’s barely a whisper, and you almost think you are hallucinating when you see him turn to set his eyes on you one last time. Those glassy orbs never fail to make your heart skip a beat, upturned lips unfitting of the situation you were in, but nevertheless providing the exact kind of comfort you need.
It’s a kind of smile you hadn’t seen on him before, one that isn’t easy to decipher because it wasn’t making an appearance due to joy or relief or even for the purpose of soothing the tension in your chest. Instead, its manifestation makes you feel a sense of familiarity that does not stem from however long you’ve known him, but more….
More…
What is it?
…
...
“What happened to him?”
“Hmm?”
“The prince” Namjoon clarifies.
“Oh, he…” You see a flash of red, the sound of horse hooves thumping against the ground, the shouts of men on horseback, arrows zipping through the air, and a deafening cry of pain. “He and I lived happily ever after.” You force yourself to smile, despite knowing that it’s a lie.
Namjoon remains still, and you’re afraid he read past your fabrication. “That’s nice.” He murmurs, smiling to himself and looking at the ground.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It’s become a habit of yours-convincing yourself to believe in something you know didn’t happen. And it’s not that you weren’t a fan of sad endings, in fact, you’ve always enjoyed stories that made you cry because they were always more memorable that way. But knowing that it was he who met a tragic end was just too…heartbreaking.
“Is it enough to know he only exists in your mind?”
Namjoon’s abrupt question echoes through the lab and disturbs your silent thoughts. You look up to see that he is on his computer; analyzing your brain recordings from the session you just came out of. It takes you a moment to register and come up with a proper response, but you manage to form an honest answer.
“I’ve been convincing myself it is for years.” You exhale fondly, reminded of how hard it was for you to accept the truth and how it still lives as embroidered scar in the center of your heart. The fact that he doesn’t exist is something you’re glad you finally came to terms with because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to do what you do now.
In the past, the thought of him not being real was painfully depressing, leaving you distraught every time you thought about him and how wonderful it would be if he existed in reality. At one point, instead of making you grateful that you could at least feel that sort of happiness in your mind, it became draining and upsetting, always being tangled in wishes that would never come true. It was a difficult time, being in your mid-twenties, so lost in life, both in terms of your career and family. With everyone around you trying to give you unasked for advice, none of it being even remotely helpful because no one understood that you didn’t really want any of that.
And there you were, longing for someone you could barely put a name or face to. It’s ridiculous to think about now, but it’s a past you can’t deny. Luckily, you’ve found your way to a healthier state of mind.
“Do you ever wonder if he’s someone you might’ve met in real life?” Namjoon has turned to peer at you now, expectantly waiting for a response.
You pause, holding his gaze for a bit longer than usual. “I can’t think of a single person he’s even similar to. He’s too perfect.” You chuckle to yourself, feeling like a teenage girl talking about her crush.
“I mean, even in dreams, do you ever see people that you’ve never seen in real life?” Namjoon furrows his brows. “There has to be a source that all of this stems from.”
“My childish fantasies?” You continue laughing, and even Namjoon is forced to smile, shaking his head.
“Tell me more about it.” He walks over and pulls up a chair in front of you, folding his hands and placing them gentle on his lap as if he were waiting to listen to a lengthy story.
“About what? About him?” You cock a brow, finding it peculiar that he’s so interested in your adventures, but he always has been.
“About everything.”
You lay back down on the metal surface, staring at the ceiling. “When I’m in these sessions, I’m not consciously aware that I am and that none of it is real. I meet him for the first time every single time, and yet there is no incongruity in my mind or my memories. It’s like everything is wiped clean, and I start off on a blank slate. I just get this visceral feeling of familiarity and it’s so vague and weak, I just ignore it.” You purse your lips, digging for the right description. “The series of events are already planned, and I can’t change anything even though it feels like I have control over my decisions. I’m actually just living through a story that is already written. There are sessions where I only spend a single day with him others where it spans over the course of years, and yet each one has never felt short of a lifetime.”
“Does he look and act the same every time?”
You shake your head, closing your eyes and trying desperately to recall his face, but you can’t see him. It’s a blank canvas.
“He different depending on the story…but there’s just something about him that doesn’t change. And I can’t describe what it is, but it’s the reason I can recognize him in every scenario no matter what character he plays.” You sigh. “Well, I guess he always looks more or less the same. Maybe with a different hair color, or different clothes perhaps…” You chuckle under your breath, attempting to conjure that heart fluttering feeling you get when you see his physical appearance. “Am I superficial for making him absolutely beautiful?”
The corner of Namjoon’s lip twitches upward as he shakes his head. “No, not at all.”
“But, I think…I think I could recognize him even if I were blind.” You trail the patterns on the ceiling, zoning out ever so slightly. “He’s the only person that can hear me. And in the end it's always almost as if he knows, but at the same time it’s impossible for that to be true. And I know it’s just something that has to do with the way my brain constructs the whole scenario, but I just can’t seem to get over that look in his eyes. I know it’s not real, none of it is, but in that moment, he is the closest thing to reality.”
“What in reality is the closest thing to him then?” Namjoon’s question induces your vision to refocus.
“I don't know. There isn’t anything.” You answer without giving it much thought.
“Then tell me this, Professor Y/L/N,” He diverts his gaze to window overlooking the university campus; the colorful autumn leaves littering the lawns. “Can you accurately imagine a feeling you’ve never felt before?”
His inquiry catches you off guard. “Are you trying to convince me I’m wrong to believe the human mind is as boundless as it is?” You turn to face him.
“No” He shakes his head. “I’m merely…curious. I find it fascinating that the subconscious mind has such powerful abilities…I also find it hard to believe that a women like you has remained single all these years.”
You can see the hint of rosiness staining his cheeks, but his expression speaks of nothing but admiration and respect. “I have long past those days of receiving such flattering comments. But thank you.”
He smiles widely, a pair of dimples forming where the rosiness once was.
...
#bts fanfic#jungkook fanfic#networkbangtan#armiesnet#bts scenarios#bts imagines#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts angst#jungkook x reader#royal au#scifi
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ducktales OC recap post
(Are there gonna be more added? Probably. But for now let's go over this)
Destiny Flawwebb
Age: 10
Gender: female
Destiny has had a interesting life to say the least. Her mother and father were deeply in love, but a few months before Destiny was born her father went on one last adventure before he would become a dad. He never came back. Ms.Flawwebb went out looking for him while she was pregnant, but she went into labor and had to go home. This caused Ms.Flawwebb to be a little insane. She was very protective of Destiny and wouldn't even let her leave the house. Destiny only knew what her mother let her. She became very skilled at sewing, knitting, cooking, cleaning, painting, and other hobbies to pass the time. But one day when she was 7 years old and got curious she left the house for the first time when her mother wasn't looking. She was astounded and soon got lost. Until she ran into a girl named Penny, who was 8. They hit it off right away and hid under a tree and talked for hours. Finally Destiny found her way home and her mom was not happy at all. But Destiny had already gotten a taste of the outside world and having a friend and there was nothing Ms.Flawwebb could do about that. Penny and Destiny met up a lot and became best friends. And one day when Penny brought a boy into the group, named Ashton, Destiny and him got along too and they became a inseperable trio. Destiny had always been raised to hate adventure, and Ms.Flawwebb especially told her to hate the McDucks. But eventually Destiny, who was 10 at the time, stumbled upon them and tried to run, but they acted nice to her and she coudlnt escape. So she tried to think of something that they would hate so they could be enemies. She soon found out they didn't like a boy named Doofus Drake, who Destiny had never heard of. So she devised a plan. She broke into his mansion pretending to be a theif (keep in mind Destiny was isolated her whole life and had no idea how to make friends), and threaten him to hang out with her. He was terrified but it worked. Destiny soon found out why Doofus was unlikable though, he was greedy and loud and gross, and his parents were too scared to bother him. But the McDucks stayed away from Destiny, mostly out of confusing, so that was a plus. Finally Destiny had enough and decided to take matters into her own hands. She started scolding Doofus whenever he acted out. At first it angered him more but then she would just hit him. After a while, Doofus started to improve. He became kinder and less bratty. He started to become a actual person with feelings. And they became actual friends.
Appearance: she has long brown hair down to her knees, it's usually in two long twin braids, with a little fluff on the top of her head. She has a bold orange beak and legs, yellowish feathers, and purple eyes. A baby blue sweater with a yellow star on it and multiple patches, due to her mother's lack of money so they just patch up her clothes. A purple skirt with stitches in it. And brown leggings
Personality: pure, confident, smart-allac, cheerful, rebellious, curious, energetic, clueless, socially awkward, over emotional, crybaby
Likes: reading, sewing, knitting, singing, friends, adventure, rebelling-Dislikes: cleaning, cooking, classical music, being called stupid, the McDucks, snobby rich people, horror
Friends: Penny, Ashton, Boat, Ariel (@webby-dings), Faith (@creativeshippersworldsblog), Lily and Lula (@lelula1)
Height: 5,0-Weight: 97 lb
Crush: Doofus Drake
Penny Crowworth
Age: 11
Gender: female
Penny was a accidental pregnancy. Her parents were shocked when she was born, since she looked absolutely nothing like either of them and resembled a ancient female villian. They thought it was a curse and shunned her since. She lived in a broken down house and was abused by both her mother and father. When she started school she received the same treatment, most of the kids were terrified of her, and the brave ones made her life hell. But she tried to stay strong and keep her head held high. She soon found out she was different, she could slow time for a few moments and she had unnatural strength. Her parents found out and felt even more threatened, it didn't really help. But she could use it for self defense at school. When she was 8 she ran into Destiny and they, as you know, hit it off. Destiny was the first person Penny could trust, someone who didn't judge her. It was great. About a month after her and Destiny met, Penny was walking down the street when she heard something. She turned and some boy had fell out a two story window in his house. She rushed over to help him, but she couldn't help thinking he was a idiot for hanging out of the window like that. He seemed to have hit his head, he was blushing and couldn't stand up straight and kept staring at her, and all he did was mumble. So Penny tried to calm him down and when he did he said his name was Ashton. Penny nodded and started to walk away, but he blurted "WANNA HANG OUT SOMETIME!?". She didn't, but she felt bad for the little idiot so she said yes. He met Destiny and they've been a inseparable trio ever since. One day, Penny (who was 11) got lost in the woods and found a pile of goop on the grass. She realized it was alive and could communicate, and it just wanted to move again. Penny, who learned not to judge looks long ago, felt pity and talked to him for a while. He convinced her to host him in her body for a while. He soaked into her skin and Penny felt immense pain, but good cause she was helping someone. Little did she know he would lead her to bad things, take over her and discard her body, nearly kill her friends and destroy the world, ruin her life, and only to come back years later when she's 17 and well...that's another story-
Appearance: jet black feathers, piercing red eyes, a yellow-orange beak and legs. She wears a pink tank top with a light pink heart in the middle of it, and a earthy green beanie. She has curly black hair that poofs out at shoulder length.
Personality: saracastic, defensive, protective, motherly, chill, short tempered, doesn't like new things
Likes: her friends, being a parent figure, adventures, sarcasm, little kids, dancing, ice skating-Dislikes: Romance, dumb people, bullies, villians, people who hurt her friends, her parents, school, food, Doofus, Ariel (@webby-dings)
Friends: Destiny, Ashton, Boat, Angel and David (@petrathepony)
Height: 5,4-Weight: 94 lb
Crush: none
Ashton Goosilton
Age: 11
Gender: male
Ashton had a pretty good life. He had a loving mom and dad, and he had a older brother (16). His dad was usually busy working though. He didn't really have friends at school, but he got along with everyone well. Everything was fine until the one day when he was 8, he was stating out his bedroom window...And he saw the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen walking by...then he fell out the window....She came to help him, but he was too lovestruck to function. He finally wes able to form the words to ask her out, she said yes. He met Destiny and they've been a inseparable trio ever since. But it wasn't all good. When people at school found out he was hanging out with "the freak" they stayed away from him. His brother was the worst though, he teased and bullied him all the time for it, he dissed on Penny like it was nothing. That really offended Ashton. And whenever Ashton tried to flirt with Penny she didn't catch on. She just thought he was a stupid blushy boy and didn't even notice his advances. Ashton was trapped in the friendzone. There were a few times they got a little bit close but it really didn't mean much to Penny. Destiny quickly caught on though and thought it was hilarious.
Appearance: He has normal white feathers, a flattish floof on his head, a yellow-orange beak and legs, and light green eyes with heart shaped pupils. He wears a red shirt and a blue jacked over it (half way unzipped)
Personality: pure, cowardly, nervous, romantic, clumsy, ditzy, stupid, confident, cheerful
Likes: his friends, his mom, ice skating, football, Elvis Presley, safety, romance movies, flowers, candy, vanilla, drama -Dislikes: people bullying his friends, reading, school, video games, his brother, adventure, danger, smarty people
Friends: Penny, Destiny, Boat(kinda), Angel and David (@petrathepony)
Height: 5,1-Weight: 90 lb
Crush: Penny Crowworth
Boat Gingerbeak
Age: 6
Gender: female
Boat is a absolute walking meme. She was born into a very wealthy family, but she was one of those "I didn't know I was pregnant situations". So basically her family was on a yaht vacation when her mom suddenly went into labor, so they really weren't excited for her, so they just named her where she was born, on a boat. (Actually the only reason I came up with her is so Penny could say "TO SHOW YOU HOW WELL FLEX TAPE WORKS I SAWED THIS BOAT IN HALF!" so she isn't exactly a serious character). She already had a older sister who was being taught to take over the buisness, so she wasn't needed and her parents basically ignored her. So she just did her own thing, and taught herself. She knows way too much for her age, and loves to show it. She will randomly appear out of no where, predict stuff that hasn't happened yet, and knows what people are gonna say before they say it. It unsettles people. One day at the park, she stumbled upon Penny. Penny asked her where her parents were and Boat said they were dead. Penny looked startled and guilty, but Boat just laughed at her and said she was only kidding. And for some reason Penny decided she was this child's guardian from then on. Boat didn't mind it, she called Penny her slave, and plus she'd never had a friend before. She secretly enjoyed getting attention for once. She basically owns anybody she interacts with, and people are ok with that, since she's like 6
Appearance: she has normal white feathers, a long floof on top of her head, two short pigtails sticking out of her head, yellow-orange beak and legs, and emotionless yellow eyes. She wears a magenta sweater that says "bored" in a lighter pink on it, a layered purple skirt, sky blue hairties and blue tennis shoes
Personality: bossy, sarcastic, a walking meme, stalkerish, confident, very intelligent, rude, cold and untrusting
Likes: death, pain, bossing people, pink, her sippy cup, Penny, buying ridiculously expensive stuff she'll never use just because she can-Dislikes: people bossing her, her family, admitting she likes people, emotions, tall people
Friends("slaves"): Penny, Destiny, Ashton, Coral and Julian (well she kinda stalks them), Ariel (@webby-dings)
Height: 4,5-Weight: 63 lb
Crush: none
Brooke Beagle
Age: 11
Gender: female
Brooke is the only only known daughter of Mama Beagle. She's tomboyish due to spending a lot of time with her brothers. But she's more intelligent then them and is her mom's only hope for a good legacy. She is forced to help her brothers with crimes, but she's rather play "break-yo-kneecaps" or video games, but she can't talk back. Eventually she met Webby. She was annoyingly cheerful and kind. Finally after she had enough Brooke agreed to have a truce. Webby took that as being her friend and Brooke was forced to hang out with her (and Louie) ever since
Appearance: she looks like a Beagle Boy. Brown fur, black around her eyes, wide chin, black nose, broad shoulders. She has long brown hair, stubby legs and lots of muscle. She wears a backwards lime green cap, a red tee shirt with a "B" on it, a turquoise unzipped jacket, a jean shirt, and black boots
Personality: mean, tough, athletic, opinionated, spiteful, loyal, and secretly emotional
Likes: bullying people, wrestling, "break-yo-kneecaps", her brothers, her mama, cardboard, video games, salad, charismatic people-Dislikes: Webby, meat, overly cheerful nice people, skinny pretty people, crime, little kids, admitting her emotions
Friends: Webby, Louie
Height: 5,2-Weight: 147 lb
Crush: Louie (shhh don't tell Webby)
Coral Reeve
Age: 11
Gender: female
Coral is a merduck. She lived in a underwater kingdom. Most people lived in poverty, and the Royals would execute anyone who talked back. Coral was middle class so she was good. She loved hunting and is pretty homicidal. One day she was swimming and was caught in a fishing net. The fishers couldn't believe their luck and kept her in a large bowl, planning on selling her. She was sailed across multiple oceans until they reached Duckberg. She hoped her family would come rescue her, but where she lived children went missing all the time so her parents were used to it and didn't care. The fishers left her on the dock for a moment. Coral curled up and sulked. A boy was skating by and noticed her. He was shocked, since he'd never seen a merduck and they weren't supposed to be real. He looked around and in a panic and a rush of adrenaline, he hoisted her bowl onto his skateboard and pushed her, running faster then he'd ever run before. The fishers noticed but it was too late. The boy ran all the way back to his house and shoved Coral into his room. At first she tried to kill him (cause the only one she had with ducks was when they kidnapped her and tried to sell her). But he calmed her down and they talked and became friends.
Appearance: long blonde hair, glassy blue eyes, white feathers, yellow-orange beak, and a pink tail with light pink fins. She wore a seagreen top held up by string that had a shiny pink rock connected to it.
Personality: wild, homicidal, insane, cheerful, curious, sassy, energetic, kinda ditzy
Likes: fish, water, her spear, hunting, throwing things, learning stuff about the surface, Julian, cuddling Julian-Dislikes: everyone besides Julian and his aunt, being dry, Julain yelling at her, veggies, Disney movies (especially The Little Mermaid), technology, emo music, Ariel (@webby-dings) cause she reminds her of a Disney princess
Friends: Julian, Aunt Sarah
Height: um she's part fish, so I didn't give her one-Weight: 115 lb
Crush: nobody,,,yet
Julian Yanderduck
Age: 12
Gender: male
Julian is a orphan. His parents died in a shooting when he was 5, so his mom's twin sister, Aunt Sarah, took him in. He'd sad and misses his parents but he trys to focus on music to get his mind off things. One day he was skating by the dock when he saw a merduck in a large fish bowl. He was shocked and without thinking lifted her onto his skateboard and pushed her all the way home. She tried to kill him understandably, but he managed to calm her down and they talked. When his Aunt Sarah came home and looking into his room, she surprisingly didn't mind. She said as long as Julian took care of it and all she had to do was make it dinner he could keep her, because she's cool like that. So Julian and Coral grew closer and became friends, Coral got into a lot of trouble even though she never really let his room or her bowl, but she loved to jump out and hug him. But whenever Julain was on the phone with someone or someone else was over she got grumpy.
Appearance: black hair, white feathers, yellow-orange beak and legs, seagreen baggy eyes. He wore a brown and dark brown striped long sleeved shirt, a tan tee shirt over it with a jagged "J" on it, baggy jeans, and black converse
Personality: grumpy, sad, emo, short tempered, sensitive, cautious, kind, caring
Likes: emo music, black, the sea, Aunt Sarah, being alone, his cell phone-Dislikes: fish, wet clothes, Coral cuddling him, sharp things, loud things, annoying people, guns, reading, being called "emo"
Friends: Coral
Height: 5,3-Weight: 113 pounds
Crush: Coral
Naomi Chickakrit
Age: 11-Gender: female
Naomi was raised on a tropical island off the coast of Africa. She was happy, until her parents were arrested for years of secret crimes. Next thing Naomi knew she was thrown into a trash orphanage. A few months later a man came in and adopted her. She packed her bags and was sent on a plane to Duckberg. The man was a middle aged lonely guy who tried to be nice and impress Naomi but she was just uncomfy. But she looked on the bright side, she had so many adventures to go on! It was her life goal to study mythical creatures, this was her chance to prove they were real! (She's a Snowbill btw)
Appearance: blue feathers, medium length natural blue hair tied up in a red bow, sunflower dress, a leather brown shoulder sack, brown shoes, red belt and short leggings, socks, large yellow-orange beak with a gradient (sorta)
Personality: shy, curious, adventurous, quiet, self consious, kind, caring, untrusting, timid
Likes: mythical creatures, adventure, heat, friends, fruit-Dislikes: her large beak, her height, people who don't believe in mythical things, her new dad(kinda), social interaction -Friends: none
Height: 5,11-Weight: 110 lb
Crush: none
Whelp that's it and I'm running out of space (there's a limit I guess), this took me all day so enjoy and have a nice day!
#ice arts#my ocs#ducktales oc#destiny flawwebb#penny crowworth#ashton goosilton#boat gingerbeak#brooke beagle#coral reeve#julian yanderduck#naomi chickakrit#ducktales#ducktales 2017#penny x ashton#destiny x doofus#please use this it took me forever
11 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
