#She dyed her hair too! But the hair dye is fading like fucking crazy she's like 5 or something in horse year

[cannieclownery]

The cutie mark crusaders! The sillys! Haven't decided how I wanted to do their cutie marks yet in the au so this is their pre-alicorn twilight designs! Doodles under the cut

[honeymoonjin]

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: sexually explicit content, reader suffers from poor mental health but nothing serious, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, that’s kinda it, it’s pretty soft tbh

--

The breeze is light here, broken by the gentle rise of the sand dunes behind you. It runs over your skin like water, a warm current that lasts long after the sun slips below the horizon line.

You sit for hours watching it, the tail of pinks and oranges and ochres that reflect thickly on the top of the water, the shallow crests of low tide. There’s a pull in your heart, a twitch at your fingers. The you a year ago would’ve had her paints out already, an easel with legs precariously shoved in the dry sand. The you a year ago would have been tossing up whether cadmium yellow or cadmium orange would suit the last slip of sun above the water, and whether you should wait til it was gone entirely to save making the decision.

Then again, the you a year ago would never have needed to come here.

The you today just waits, silently, you don’t even know what for. You’d been told this was a getaway. That you just needed some time to recover your muse, or some bullshit like that. But the more time you sit in silence and watch the sky blacken to navy and the stars prick the darkness with dazzling clarity, you think your therapist was wrong. How was this a getaway when all your problems were still festering inside you?

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

You groan and sink back into the sand, head cushioned on the warm piles. Just your fucking luck. “You’ve got the wrong person,” you call out with eyes squeezed shut, praying the stranger will leave you alone. The last thing you needed was a green reporter or psycho fan to spill your location to the rest of the world. You can only imagine the headline. Disgraced painter Y/n L/n found hiding away on a tropical island eight months after she ruined the Met Gala.

“Oh my god, it is you! I’m a massive fan, wow!”

Fuck. At least there was a chance they’d keep quiet. You crack open an eye, staring up at the figure beside you, cast in shadow. From the glint of moonlight, you can see a crown of ruffled hair that’s a faded teal. It reminds you of the impressionist painting of a mountain lake that threw your work into the public eye. Just as faded as the dye on his hair, that time feels worn and aged, like from another life. A reminder of how far you’d fallen. “Look,” you confess lowly to the silhouette, “I just wanna be left alone, I’m not- I’m just here for a break from...everything.”

The figure shifts his weight in the sand, raising an arm to scratch at the back of his neck shyly. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he apologises. With the slight breeze, his baggy clothes buffet around his lean figure and in the darkness he looks like some vengeful angel, towering over you with the moon behind him. But his voice is so soft, so genuine, so- so warm. Perhaps not vengeful, then, but definitely an angel. “You’re a hero of mine, I wanted to thank you for how much you’ve inspired me, saved me. Gosh, it’s crazy that you’re even here, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you force out, sitting up, wincing as grains of sand work their way down the nape of your neck, “really, I am. But I’m not the person you’re thinking of. Not anymore, at least.” You hate the way your voice rings out so thinly in the night air, nothing like the deep honey of his. You hate the way you sound broken.

He senses it too; he takes a step back, turns towards the dunes. “I should be going, I guess,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I hope I see you around. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You don’t respond, wrapping your arms around your hunched knees and staring at the silver ocean until you can no longer see him in your peripheral vision.

—

It’s over a week before you see him again. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, you keep an eye out for the boy with the teal hair. There wasn’t enough light that day to make out his face but still, with hardly any people for miles, you hadn’t anticipated he’d be all that difficult to find.

Truth be told, there had been a deep curl of regret and dissatisfaction that took root inside you shortly after you left. He was just trying to be nice, and you could use a friend. Could use someone.

You had asked for privacy when your therapist began recommending a break, a getaway, but you hadn’t expected it to this degree. The place you were staying at was a rundown bungalow just behind the dunes, tucked away in a sliver of land where sand met forest, rising up into hills. The only people you saw were the employees that ran it: a maid that stopped by every day at 1pm, even though you had already made the bed and cleaned up after yourself; an older gentleman that delivered you fresh groceries every couple of days in his ancient-looking four wheel drive; and finally, the electrician you’d had to call out a few nights prior after the power went out.

The mysterious fan hadn’t been dressed like an employee; then again, it was long past the workday when he’d approached you. Mulishly, you find yourself lugging a picnic blanket and a pillow down to the beachfront every evening, monitoring every inch of the coastline that stretches around this edge of the peninsula.

It’s only on the ninth night, when you’re folding up your rough blanket with a disappointed grumble, that a sudden yap catches your attention. You whirl around, toes sinking deeper into the light sand, and gasp as a familiar silhouette approaches, stumbling down a sand dune to your left.

He hasn’t seen you yet; so focused on the tiny fluffball that tugs restlessly at its leash. It’s a lot earlier tonight than the last time you’d seen him, and there’s enough remnants of sunlight in the sky to cast him in a warm golden glow.

He’s in baggy clothes like last time, a long-sleeved white t-shirt with a v in the center, unbuttoned and sagging over the shoulder of the arm that’s getting yanked along, and some tan linen shorts. It’s hard to tell with how he sinks to his ankles in sand with every step, but he’s barefoot, almost sliding down the steep dune more so than walking.

You can’t hear him at this distance, but his lips are moving, parted in a boxy grin as he responds to the constant yipping of the tiny dog at his feet. He’s gorgeous, tanned skin to fit the honey of his voice - the voice you’ve been unable to shake from your head - and the roots of his hair are the colour of brown sugar, lightening into the dyed teal ends, whipping over his cheeks and neck in the seabreeze.

He turns off when he reaches the base, following his dog, who pulls in your direction, short bursts of energy that get cut off by the length of the leash. Your heart jumps, and you find yourself waiting in anticipation, breath caught in your throat.

But the moment he glances up and sees you, he halts in his tracks. Stepping back, his smile falls, bowing his head to you apologetically and pulling on the leash so that the small black-and-tan puppy at his feet turns around with him.

They start walking away from you, and you don't have time to think before you're calling out to him, jogging over with your blanket and pillow forgotten behind you.

He stops walking, though he doesn't turn, and when you finally come to a stop beside him, he keeps his head down.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday," you rush out, slightly out of breath, "I was in a really shitty mood, and I had kinda come here to get away from...everything in the first place. I wasn't expecting a fan, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."

Even after standing still, you can't seem to catch your breath. You haven't seen him this close, in this much detail, and it makes the air catch in your lungs. His eyes are an intense burnt umber, dancing over your face with an unreadable depth to them. He's taller than you, but not bulky. Though his shoulders are wide, he's lean, with a narrow nose and soft cheeks. The wind plays with the ends of his hair, revealing glimpses of a strong brow. He's beautiful.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says after a moment, and you almost jump at the timbre of his voice so close to you, "I should be the one apologising. I'll leave you alone, honestly. I can find another place to go for a walk, or go at a different time-"

"Do you walk here a lot at this time?" you interrupt, the euphoria of finally holding a conversation after so long loosening your tongue. "You haven't been back since that night."

He tips his head to the side, shoulder jerking when his dog impatiently tugs at the leash, quiet snuffles and yips of disapproval ignored in the air between you. There's a flicker of something in his eyes - surprise? Amusement? "You were looking for me?"

"I-" Your voice fails you, and you realise how pathetic you must look. Your shoulders sink. "I was... I wanted to apologise," you land on finally.

That strange flicker in his eyes settles into a grateful warmth. "I normally do, yeah, but I had to go back to the mainland to pick up this guy." With a genuine smile, he glances down to the ball of fluff that's now lying over his bare foot. "I stayed there while he got his first lot of vaccinations. You can pat him, if you want."

You can recognise that offer for what it really is; an olive branch. In other words, he's apparently not holding a grudge against you for being an asshole. You smile gratefully, crouching down to pat the tiny animal. "What's his name?"

"Yeontan," he answers cheerily. "he's nine weeks old!"

You coo, chuckling at the soft fur wriggling beneath your fingertips, at the wet nose prodding at your palm for more pats. "Yeontan..." you muse. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

You hear a sheepish laugh from above. "Your, um, your painting of the old barn in Icheon? There's a kennel that's beside it in shadow, but you can just make out the name Yeontan painted on the front. I-" He breaks off awkwardly, falling silent.

Your hand freezes, and you feel yourself slump from a crouch to sitting fully on the sand, still hot from the afternoon sun. Yeontan. A detail you couldn't even remember painting, yet he'd named his dog after it. The dog continues to cover your hands in slobber and stray fur, but you just stare at it blankly.

"I'm sorry," the man winces, tone low with defeat. "You probably think it's stupid. I swear I'm not one of those crazy obsessed fans! There was just..." His voice changes then, closes up to cut off any emotion. "I shouldn't say. Sorry."

Your shoulders slacken. "You don't have to keep apologising," you say softly. After a moment's thought, you push up off the sand to stand up again, grains clinging to the skin that's damp from the dog's affections. The handsome stranger's face is stricken, reluctant as he watches you get up. You miss the boxy smile he'd held when he made his way down the dunes. You wonder if he'll ever smile that way at you. "I wanna hear. What you have to say."

Hand flexing on the leash, he looks down at Yeontan and back up at you, eyes squinted slightly as the sun glares onto his face; a radiant, sharp orange. "One of the reasons I'm such a fan of your work is the emotion you can actually see on the canvas. I don't even know how to explain it, but I feel it. And with the Icheon barn painting - I actually saved up for years to buy the original - there's something so sad and lonely about that kennel, that patch of shadow. The rest of the scene is so bright and open, it feels like a party that the kennel wasn't invited to. I don't know, it's stupid. But I thought if I ever bought a dog, I'd name it Yeontan so that it wouldn't feel so alone." He faces the horizon as he speaks, wincing into the light, and a broken laugh bubbles out of his throat once he's done. "Like I said; it's stupid."

But you don't think it's stupid at all. "Did it work?" you ask instead, nose prickling as tears build behind your eyes. The more he spoke, the more you remember the painting. It was your last work before the Met Gala disaster, and after everything went down in flames, desperate online tabloids went back to it, citing it as a 'cry for help'. You hadn't really painted it like that though, not really. You'd seen that beautifully painted barn in the countryside when you were driving between cities to visit your parents, and was taken by the dilapidated dog kennel tucked just beside it. Painting it wasn't some sort of clue to your nosedive, but more like a solidarity with that kennel, the dog that once lived there. The story that had been forgotten. And to hear this man had seen it, had wanted to ease the suffering just like you had... The emotions inside you, ones that had felt so dull and monochrome, now churn inside you in indecipherable technicolour, too many to count. But you think one of them might just be hope. "Did- did getting Yeontan work?"

He's looking at you now. He stays silent for a moment, the softest smile tugging at your lips, and it takes your breath away, watching the colours of sunset play across his skin while his brown eyes seek yours out intensely. "Yeah, it did," he answers eventually, his voice almost a whisper. It's only once he starts speaking that you realise the two of you have moved closer inwards without realising, so that it would only take a half step forward to be pressed against him. "But I think talking with you has helped more."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The whirlpool inside you settles, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in years. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you feel...sane again, but you want more of it. "I think talking with you has helped me too," you confess, voice lilting in uncertainty. "Can... can I see you again? I don't even know your name, but-"

"Taehyung," he answers immediately, and even with the fall of night, the sun well and truly gone, his eyes are bright. "I could come back tomorrow?"

Your toes flex in the sand fighting the urge to jump in relief. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that," you chime, a smile tugging at your lips. "It was nice to meet you, Taehyung."

"The pleasure is all mine."

--

You sleep well that night. You can’t remember the last time the peaceful rays of sun have woken you so gently, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

You’d spent the past week or so moping in your cabin until late afternoon and then moping on the beach. Only now, after finally meeting the boy again - Taehyung - you realise how much you’ve been wasting your time buried in your own thoughts. Now all you want to do is explore. You’d been told on the ferry over here that the island was only a few hours’ walk around the coastline, and that your cabin, a street of shops and a small village of houses were the only signs of life. No bar to drown your sorrows at. No club for finding faceless strangers to make you forget who you were for a few hours. All your coping vices had been replaced with open stretches of nature in all its colours; the cool grey rocky beaches on the southern shore, the lush greens of the hilly forests, the glinting turquoise of the sea, and open plains of pastel sky for miles and miles.

The walk isn’t particularly intensive, but it’s long, and your feet ache in their sandals by the time you reach the docks again, having marked a full loop around the island. The dock, empty this late in the morning, leads directly to the main street via a cobblestone path that weaves between dunes, flax bushes, fields and a skinny stretch of trees, and you follow it to the center of the island, resting in a small cafe.

There’s no free WiFi here, so you sip at a tall glass of homemade strawberry lemonade and watch the streets through the storefront window. From your seat, you can see the people wander back and forth, the odd few with kids, but almost all are retirement age. Slow-moving couples with walkers and canes, elderly men jangling the keys to their vintage cars (that surely didn’t have much road to drive on), women with age-spotted skin and heavy beaded jewellery.

You can’t work out how Taehyung fits in this picture. It’s almost impossible to picture him walking down the same street as everyone else; his dyed hair, clothes two sizes too big, tall and slender frame hurrying down with a dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other-

Wait.

You straighten up, eyes widening as you watch the man himself pauses to let Yeontan cock his leg on a patch of grass by the intersection. Physically, he’s entirely incongruous with the rest of the villagers, but he looks entirely at home, glancing up to smile in recognition at every figure that passes by him. One goes so far as to reach up and ruffle his hair playfully as she talks, and his face brightens with crinkled eyes and a boxy grin, greeting her warmly.

The same feeling of longing and dissatisfaction stirs you from the other time you saw that smile. You want to be the one that makes him so happy. You frown, unconsciously chewing on the end of the paper straw. It’s too hot in here. There’s not enough ventilation, and with the sun streaming in, the heat just pools inside, sticking to your thighs and arms. That’s why you leave the cafe before finishing your drink. The heat.

The lady has left by the time you cross the street, and you fake a cough noisily as you pass him, eyes cast away but face turned so he’d easily recognise you.

“Y/n!” Your heart warms, keens at the calling of your name, and you turn to him, smiling broadly. Taehyung grins when Yeontan rushes over to greet you too, whole body rocking with the force of his tail wagging. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, and you take in a deep breath of air, feeling lightheaded with his attention back on you.

“I decided to explore a bit,” you answer, eyes dropping down to the supermarket bag in his hands, white plastic taut and digging red lines into his palm with the weight of it. “Retail therapy?”

He laughs goodnaturedly, but there’s a flush of pink high on his cheekbones, standing out beside the strands of green that he’s tucked behind his ears. “It’s actually, uh, something for tonight. I didn’t know if you’d- If you still-” He breaks off his stammering with another laugh, this one more self-conscious, and the pink deepens to red. “I thought you and I could paint together. I bought us some materials just in case you didn’t bring your own.” You fall silent, mouth slack and parted in surprise, so he continues on, lifting up his hand for a moment, bag rustling, then changing his mind and letting it fall again. “There isn’t a proper art supplies store here, so it’s just from the toy store. I know you’re probably used to proper stuff, but a bad worker blames his tools, you know! Not that you would- that you’re a bad-”

“You paint?” you ask finally, ending his nervous rambling.

His whole body slackens a bit, like you’ve cut some tension from him, his head dipping down to break eye contact. “Um. I’m- learning,” he answers with an uncertain wobble to his voice.

You tilt your head to the side with an expectant smile. “That’s really cool. How long have you been studying?”

He swallows, looking up to send you a hesitant smile. “I, um, I studied the instructions on the back of a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy store. Just now.” His voice lifts at the end of each sentence like it’s a question, that same bargaining smile plastered on his face.

You let out a genuine laugh, the first one you’ve had in a while. In too long. “Is that so? I better bow down to the maestro then.”

“Hey!” he whines playfully, shoulders rocking forward like a toddler feeling sorry for himself. “I learnt everything I know so far just from your art. And did you hear that speech I gave you about The Barn at Icheon? That was pretty good, right? You have to admit, that was good.”

His hand, the one loosely holding Yeontan’s lead, reaches out to grasp gently just above your elbow as he speaks, rocking you slightly like he’s pleading for you to agree. You find a constant stream of laughter bubbling out of your throat as he does so, feeling so light in the sunny midday breeze. “Okay, okay, that was good,” you confess, “you get a point for that.”

Once your laughter subsides slowly, you find yourself looking up at him with a residual smile, the same of which is spread on his face, eyes glimmering with something fond. He waits for the air between you to fall silent, tongue slipping out just slightly to wet his lips as you hold his gaze. “Y/n,” he asks softly, your name like molten sugar on his tongue, thumb unconsciously rubbing at the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm, “will you paint with me?”

Though the thought of painting still sours inside your chest, with his skin on your skin and his smile just for you, you feel like you could do anything. There’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll paint with you, Taehyung.”

--

Painting with Taehyung is less painting with Taehyung and more staring desolately into the middle distance as Taehyung decides to make the clouds purple, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in focus.

“Don’t overthink it,” he stresses for the millionth time, glancing over at your blank canvas, “I’m not judging you.”

But it’s not about him judging you. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t think a paintbrush would have ever found its way into your hands again, certainly not so soon. It’s just that- you feel an overwhelming burden, a historical pressure of all your mistakes before. If you put brush to canvas now and create a work of art, then was your complete mindblank for the Met Gala all for nothing? Though your therapist advised against it, you had rather become attached to the idea that you’d somehow gotten artistically injured somewhere, and that eventually you’d broken completely, irreparable. It made the constant white void easier. Your first death.

“Happy little accidents,” Taehyung says lightly, dipping heavily into orange and catching a dollop on his wide-leg jeans. Not noticing it, or not caring, he swipes the orange into the canvas in a wonky line down past the horizon line, forming the neck and body of what looks vaguely like a giraffe. “And, um, happy little- happy little trees. If you want we could turn around and face the forest?”

Though a glum cloud is settling in your stomach you flick him a soft smile. “So you watch Bob Ross too? I thought you said you learnt everything from me.”

Using the same brush, he scoops out some black, using a pinkie finger to mix the colours together inside the bristles, a murky brown. “Maybe just a little,” he admits, daubing rough patches onto the giraffe, half of them overlapping the edges of its body. There’s an endearing quality to his carefree worksmanship, and you can’t deny that his painting looks good, wonky lines and all. “But don’t worry, you’ll always be my first,” Taehyung adds, not looking at you but smirking all the same.

The double entendre isn’t missed on you, but still, as you sit on a picnic table right on the edge of the village, blank canvas in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to laugh at it. All you can see is the paint drying on the tip of Taehyung’s finger, the messy pots of basic acrylics, and the warm smile that doesn’t leave his face.

He’s having fun. How long has it been since painting has been fun for you? Annoyed, you grab the clear green plastic brush from the set, dipping it into black. Muscle memory tingles across your knuckles and down the muscles of your wrist, an instinct to hold the brush in a certain way, tap off the excess, but your frustration overrides it, and you take the paintladen brush and smear it directly across the center of the canvas, a gaping maw of glossy shadow that bulges on the lower edges, gravity pulling at the thick stripe. You go completely still once it’s done. Staring.

Taehyung looks over after a moment, watching you carefully. “Is everything alright? If you didn’t want to paint, we didn’t have to-”

“It’s terrible,” you interrupt, a frown marring your face. “I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he chastises softly, pushing his canvas to the side and leaning over your shoulder. “It’s a promising start. Maybe the duck pond is black in your world.”

Your eyes slide lower, unfocused. “Maybe the whole ocean is black in my world,” you murmur.

He’s silent for a moment,  unsure what to say. “Then how will the fish see?” he asks in a light tone, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but you just let out a broken sob, tears spilling over your cheeks like they’d been triggered by his contact. Taehyung’s mouth opens in a rounded o, eyes wide, and as the dam breaks, you feel an arm find your back, rubbing soothingly, and long, warm fingers wrap around the hand that holds the brush limply, cradling it. “We can fix it, it’s okay,” he soothes in a kind whisper, “here; it’s that mailbox now, yeah? And behind it is the candy shop-” His voice cuts off while he guides your shaking hand to the green, mixing it with white in the plastic pottle to make a pale pastel. You feel the pressure of the brush in your hand shift as he moves the bristles over the canvas in a roughly rectangular shape, but you’re unseeing, crying tears that sting like turpentine into that black ocean behind your eyelids, letting him move you.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, you curled in his embrace as he quietly paints for you, commenting on each step of the process so you know what he’s doing, even with your eyes closed. At one point, your energy leaves you, and you collapse into him, pressing your cheek against the stable warmth of his chest, heartbeat audible through his thin t-shirt. He doesn’t complain, just adjusting his stance to better support you and resting his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber thickly at one point, tasting salt.

“You don’t have to be,” he assures, “just keep breathing. Look; let’s put some trees in, hm? One for you and one for me.”

You open your eyes with a sniffle, feeling your hand lower in his secure hold, and you twist around your head to watch him dip the filthy brush in a green which has already been tainted by white and red in places. Your eyes follow it up again, until he fearlessly swipes in the graceful branches of the fir trees which cover the highest points of the island. You look at the rest of the painting, and a disbelieving giggle bubbles out of you, a smile across your face despite everything.

Unlike the mental image you’d been plotting in your head with the narration, this square of canvas has a line of slightly leaning buildings stacked beside each other tightly, colours smearing on the borders. In the middle of the uneven grey strip of cement down the middle to mark out the road, two trees stand proud, mostly green but with bleeding patches of muddy purple and brown too. Entire drops of paint spatter and run, creating a chaotic but vivid daydream of the end of the street in front of you.

“A lot better in your head, wasn’t it?” Taehyung asks knowingly. You laugh again, the last few tears pressed out of the corners of your wet eyes. “It’s okay,” he replies easily, “it was better in my head too. But the one in our heads is boring, don’t you think? If I wanted to see the street in front of me exactly, I’d just look up. Or take a photo. But nobody can visit this place we’ve painted. It’s just here, brand new because of us. I think I like that more.”

You sit up, wiping your eyes with a tired smile. “There’s no way you learnt all that from me,” you deflect, voice still raw from crying. “But yeah. I think I like this one more too.”

“I’m glad,” he answers softly, letting go of your hand and removing his hand from your back at the same time. You suppress a shiver at the sudden absence of heat. “I’ll let this dry and hang it up right beside The Barn at Icheon.”

You laugh again, sniffing away the last dregs of self-pity. “You better not,” you warn playfully, “as semantically poignant as it is, it’s an awful paintjob.”

When Taehyung smiles, it’s bright and boxy. And it’s just for you.

--

Time passes, but not like in the real world. Out here on this island, you start counting the passage of time by how many occasions you’d met Taehyung. Then, once you’ve seen him too often to count, you let yourself lose track of time completely, remembering only the moments spent with him like vignettes on a fragile chain.

The two of you always meet in the town or on the beach, speaking about everything and nothing. One day, while waiting beside the blue metal mailbox for Yeontan to pee (though Taehyung still insisted it looked better black) you tell him of the time you accidentally turned all your clothes yellowy-green after accidentally putting an apron in the wash that had an opened sampler of chartruese in the pocket. On a rainy afternoon when you’d gotten caught in the downfall walking through the forest, Taehyung told you, while wringing out rainwater from his rumpled maroon sweater, that he was meant to be studying agricultural sciences on the mainland, but his grandmother was sick and so he bought a place nearby to care for her.

“One good thing about being on the island,” he’d chimed cheerily, dark teal and brown plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “is that property is super cheap here. My grandma paid half and I paid half, and now the one-bedroom I live in is all mine.”

“But isn’t that sad?” you’d questioned, feeling the ground turn to mud beneath your shoes. “Living on the island, I mean? You should be in a big city, partying with your friends, living life. This place is like one massive retirement village.”

Taehyung had just shrugged. “My grandma likes it. And I like living for someone else, you know? Makes me feel good.”

Long after you’d gone home, warming up by the radiator in your beachside bungalow, those words had stuck with you. You wonder if, with all this time he’s been spending with you, he’s starting to live for you, too. You wonder if maybe that’s a bad thing.

But still, time passes in this hazy, episodic way. Money continues to filter out of your bank account each week you stay, but you hadn’t worried about your finances for years now, enough successful exhibits from your productive days keeping a healthy sum.

Though he never pushes as much as last time at the picnic table, Taehyung keeps you creating. Backs of napkins, tourism pamphlets, the kids colouring sets at the local diner. No matter how scrawled or indecipherable, the soft-hearted boy compliments your work all the same, slipping the scraps into his pocket with a joking promise that he’s going to frame them. Somehow, every unthought, unplanned line of ink or lead or pigment that lights the page feels like one less needle buried deep inside your heart, one small salve to ease the burden. You don’t know if Taehyung knows it, but in all the ways that count he’s a better artist than you.

When he’s around you, the world is lusher, more vibrant. Your time alone is grey and muted; a dull beach, an empty bungalow. With him, you feel like the sky is bluer and the trees are greener. The bonfire you sit in front of now casts an intense orange glow on everything around it, including Taehyung’s hands as he deftly impales marshmallows onto a skewer.

It’s cooler at nighttime these days. At some point, you’d both exchanged sandals for sneakers, t-shirts for sweaters. Taehyung seems to fancy heavy cable knits and thick trousers even in mild weather, and you wonder if he’d still wear clothing typical of an elderly gentleman even if he was on the mainland in a modern city instead of around the older generation on the island.

Tonight, you’d tried and failed a traditional Korean barbecue over the open flame. While Taehyung had shoved his cut of pork right into the fire, ending up with a charred outside and raw inner, you’d diligently held yours above the flames, turning and turning until the muscles in your arm screamed and you had to give up and admit perhaps the meat from the local butcher was cut too thick, and that a bonfire was good for nothing more than toasted marshmallows.

“This is where it’s at, this is it,” the young man enthuses confidently, each skewer laden with four or five marshmallows, bunched together, “dessert for dinner. The way it should be.”

You’re content to sit back and let him work excitedly, wrapping the edges of the picnic blanket low over your shoulders and lap. Though Taehyung is always devastatingly handsome, he’s the most gorgeous like this: focused in his element and surrounded by all the colours and textures of nature, a painting come to life. The heat of the flames is curling his hair lightly, making teal ends flick at his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair was growing out steadily, but still he chose not to cut it, and you can’t deny the length suits him.

“There’s more brown than green now,” you mention softly. “Soon it’ll look like dip-dye.”

Taehyung glances back at you over his shoulder with a rougish grin, shuffling around so he faces you fully. “What; is this your way of saying it looks bad?”

“No,” you defend with a pout, reaching for the near-full packet of marshmallows. “I’m just curious if you’re gonna leave it like that.”

Taehyung hums like he doesn’t fully believe you, and he leans over to shove his hand in the packet at the same time that you’re rummaging for the soft sweets, your knuckles brushing together. You shiver at the contact. Somehow, that’s been the first time you’ve shared skin contact since that day at the picnic table. Wide-eyed, you wait til he’s grabbed a bunch and pull your own hand away, empty and white with powder.

“Sorry,” he adds reflexively, but you just shake your head. How are you supposed to tell him that you liked the feeling of his skin on yours? Taehyung pops a pink marshmallow into his left cheek, letting it bulge and slur his speech as he gives you a broad grin. “You could dye it for me! My hair, I mean. Pick a colour.”

Against your will, you smile back, cheeks puffing at the thought. “I have no idea how to dye hair, Tae.”

Something flickers in his eyes when you say that, or maybe it’s the dancing flames reflected in them. He chews quickly, swallowing with a jerk of his jaw, and licks the rest of the white powder off his lips. “I bet it’s a whole lot easier than painting a picture.”

You scoff, but there’s no bite to it. “Oh, so you didn’t want me to paint one of my works on your hair, then? Don’t fancy Jeju Dusk on your scalp?”

Taehyung grins at the name, recognising the title of one of your earlier paintings - one that had been relentlessly criticised for its blending of techniques, something that later became your signature. “That’s my second favorite piece, you know? I have a print of it at home, and I saw the original in the Leeum Museum last year.”

You remember the director of the Leeum fondly. In your beginning years, he’d fought for your works to be shown in some of the frequent exhibitions they held. Even though you’d barely made a name for yourself, and had only recently moved to Seoul, Director Kim Namjoon took you in like a mentee and gave you a job himself as his PA. The experience you’d gotten there, as well as that vital exposure, had kept you business-savvy throughout your career, and once you were in a position to give back, you donated almost all of your original canvases to the museum in his name. Maybe one day you’d return home to Seoul and tell Namjoon of the boy who lived on a faraway island, the boy who taught you to open up again. Would Taehyung still be with you then? Though it hasn’t been long, it’s hard to comprehend a life without Taehyung. All you can visualise is a great absence, a lack. You banish the thought from your mind with a shake of your head, glancing back up to see the boy himself boldly setting a skewer of marshmallows on fire in the orange heat. “I hope that’s your one,” you joke weakly as he puffs out the blue and orange that lick at the blackening lumps.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite work is?” he asks instead, ignoring your statement.

You stay silent for a moment, observing the way he discards the charred skewer in his lap and delicately toasts the other one, swivelling the base so that each side of the marshmallow stack warms to a golden brown. Once he pulls it out, he hands it to you with an expectant quirk of his brow. You take the stick with a slightly suspicious smile. “What’s your favorite, Taehyung?”

“Your next one,” he answers immediately, gaze locked on yours.

You blame the heat radiating off the bonfire for the warmth in your cheeks as you suppress a smile. “Alright then,” you say decisively.

“Alright what?”

“Alright, I’ll dye your hair for you.”

He grins broadly, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he starts eating his thoroughly-burnt marshmallows. “Tomorrow,” he announces, melted strings of pink and white pooling in the corner of his lips. “Let’s meet at the convenience store and you can pick the colour.”

You smirk at the way he devours the toasted marshmallows with childish glee. “You’ll regret that when you come out of this with highlighter orange hair.”

He chucks his leftover stick into the grocery bag you brought your supplies in, letting himself collapse backwards onto the heated sand. “I think I could pull it off,” he deflects calmly. “Just you see.”

Breath taken away by the peace on his face as he closes his eyes, your mind works dizzily, desperate to find something to keep him talking, to keep this moment between you alive. “Maybe you could get a job as air traffic control. Or a streetlight. Just you wait; it’ll be orange orange.”

Taehyung’s face warms in a lazy smile as he hums. He looks so peaceful lying there that you’re tempted to join him, but you choose instead to shuffle back from the fire so that you can see his face better. His hair’s splayed out over the sand, and you can see the warm flickers from the bonfire play over his neck, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. Taehyung’s right; orange does suit him. “I had a dream, you know. Last night.”

You feel - with the gentle breeze and the silence of the sea surrounding you - that perhaps you’re in a dream right now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his low voice hushes, barely louder than the popping of wood on the fire. “We weren’t on the island, we were in Seoul. Your wing of the Leeum Museum.”

You laugh shallowly, not wanting to make much noise for a reason you couldn’t quite pinprick. “I don’t have a wing at the Leeum.”

“You did in my dream,” he defends resolutely, the beginnings of a boxy smile tugging at his lips. “Anyway, we were in your wing, and I remember being so confused because I didn’t recognise any of them. But you told me they were all new. They were paintings of m-” he cuts himself off a beat too late, lips pressed together.

Your heart falters, a rush of adrenaline that flows to the ends of your fingers and toes. You fight to keeo your voice steady. “Maybe it was a premonition.”

Resting on his stomach, Taehyung’s hands twitch, his fingers twisting together. His smile flattens into a tense line and his eyelids squeeze shut tightly. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he admits quietly after a short pause of thought.

Looking back, you can’t remember your thought process, or where your boldness comes from. Maybe something about the way the moment felt detached from reality, a timeless bubble of the two of you that sat adjacent to your real life, separate from consequence. Maybe it was the brief glimpse of pink as he wets the inner seam of his lips. Maybe you’ve just wanted this for too long to think rationally anymore.

Whatever it is, you swallow past the dryness in your mouth, bend down, and press a kiss to his lips.

Taehyung goes completely still at first. You’re cross-legged on the sand, knees faced to his side, and when you kiss him, it’s on enough of an angle that you feel his nose brushing your cheekbone, and you can feel your hair falling down either side of your face like silken rain. He stays still, though, and you press a little harder, just for a moment, before his lack of response shatters your streak of confidence.

With a minute sigh of regret, you lift off of him, ready to sit up again and apologise profoundly. But before there’s more than a few centimeters of air between you, his hand is suddenly snaking around the nape of your neck, fingers slipping up into your hair as he pulls you back down.

When you collide again with a gasp, his mouth is parted, and his teeth scrape against your bottom lip with his urgency. Losing your balance, you throw your outside arm over him, palm plunging into the sand just beside his head, and let your upper torso rest on his his.

“Taehyung,” you sigh onto his lips, shivering when his free hand rests hotly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub maddenly over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “Oh, Taehyung.”

His lips are sticky with the remains of the toasted marshmallows, and tentatively you seek out that sweetness, kissing deeper, letting your tongue slide over the pinkened skin. He holds you so gently, like you’re made of glass, yet his mouth on yours is pure fire, and your breath comes in little gasps, bursts of oxygen that only fan the flames higher. It takes you a few moments to realise the humming in his throat and the motion of his lips are words, so softly spoken, but once you do you slow your movements to a languid stream to better hear them.

“...so beautiful, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I must be dreaming…” He speaks with his eyes half-lidded, like he doesn’t want to fully lose sight of you, uttering words between sweet kisses, strong hands cradling you so carefully. He presses his lips against yours one last time and moves his hand from your neck to your face, thumbing tenderly at your cheekbone. “God, I’m so lucky to be by your side,” he gasps. “And when you paint new works and attend exhibits, I’ll still be by your side.”

His words are sweet, but something about them strikes an odd note in your chest, and you pull back slightly, shaking off his hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and swollen lips which are parted in a confused pout. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s my paintings,” you whisper disbelievingly, “isn’t it? That’s why you think you like me. You like my paintings, and you think it’s somehow the same thing.”

He frowns, shuffling back to sit up, further apart from you than you’d been all night. “No,” he says automatically, “I like you, I just… I think you’re talented, and I want to help you-”

“It’s not your place to help me,” you snap back, and Taehyung flinches. “I’m not some- some out-of-order printer that just needs some TLC to start pumping out pages again. You’re a fan, Taehyung, not a fucking therapist.”

He lets those words sit in the air until they sour, staring at you with eyes shiny and lips trembling. “I know that,” he says, voice cracking, “I know that. I just- Just because you had issues with the Met Gala exhibit doesn’t mean you have to run away and hide, you know?”

Your mouth falls open. “I… I didn’t have issues with the Met Gala, okay, Taehyung? I blanked. Every time I tried to paint something for the exhibit, it sucked. I hated it. And then, eventually, I stopped being able to paint anything at all. It was like I just- I just couldn’t. And the Director kept calling, but I couldn’t answer him because I was so fucking humiliated, and you get the day of the Met and the walls are empty because Y/n L/n is a fucking failure. So it’s not- You can’t fix me, Taehyung. I’m just broken.”

The fire spits, crackles, as it smoulders down, nothing more than hot coals that barely light the surroundings. Taehyung, face slowly darkening to shadow, doesn’t say anything. Just sits. Waits.

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “My point is, Tae-” and you scoff at yourself for using a nickname at a time like this, “You shouldn’t like me. I have nothing to give you anymore.”

Sand sticks to your bare legs when you stand, but you make no attempt to brush it off. Though it’s nearly complete darkness, you see Taehyung’s hair shift as he tips his head up to watch you. Rather than speak back, he waits in the pitch black of the extinguished bonfire and lets you go.

Later, in the unforgiving silence of your bungalow, you find yourself gravitating not towards your bed but towards your suitcase, to the small wooden chest of travel paints you had brought never expecting to use.

It’s easier to paint than to think on your regrets and mistakes, and so you let your mind go black, your palette filling with shades of brown, ochre and beige, as well as a single swatch of teal.

--

The entire next day sees you in a sleep-deprived fervour, the entire main room of your bungalow cleared out and transformed into a makeshift studio, paintings drying on emptied bookshelves, sheets of old newspaper covering the carpet covered in stray spots of colour, the kitchen bench housing your mismatched array of paints and tools.

After finishing your first painting, you’d collapsed onto your bed as the sun began to rise, too exhausted to wash the dried paint off your hands and brow. But it only took a few moments of rest before you felt yourself sinking into a glum quicksand, sucked in by all the emotions swirling in your chest. Suffocated by the sole image of Taehyung, sitting alone on the sand in the dark as you walked away.

So, you’d gotten up, fed the itch in your hands and picked up a brush once more, and let yourself be taken by the mindless haze of work, of colours and angles and perspectives, starting to paint the knuckles on one canvas while you waited for the eyes to dry on another.

Just after 10am, your housekeeper had knocked on the door, and you’d had to play sick so that she wouldn’t come inside. If they kept your deposit or charged you damages for a stray lick of paint on some surface, what did it matter?

You threw yourself so intensely into these paintings, that weren’t art so much as sighs of relief, or buoys in a churning sea. It was all too easy to let your mind latch onto the task of mixing colours, of choosing techniques, of mastering proportions. Normally, you’d work in front of a landscape, or take a photo and paint it later, wanting to get things right, but Taehyung comes to mind with startling clarity.

Soon, your bungalow fills with artworks - some painted on newspaper, or pages of a book when you run out of canvases. Vistas of those moments with him like clustered vignettes: his eyes with orange glints reflected in them from that night with the bonfire; his hands wringing his sodden sweater the day you got caught in the rain; a boxy smile, the first time he ever grinned at you like that; and finally, just as your hands begin to shake too much to hold the brush steady, a lone silhouette walking down a dune, tiny dog tugging at the leash in his hand. The memories flow in reverse, like some sort of undoing, a wish to go back in time and do things right, to be better for him, to do right by him.

When you set the brush down one final time, fingers trembling with exhaustion, it’s nearly midnight. You realise with a dull pang that you’d forgotten to go down to the township to buy Taehyung hair dye. You realise he probably wouldn’t have come down either.

Your face is stiff in places where swipes of paint have dried, and your hair is tangled, thrown up a half-hearted ponytail that keeps threatening to slip, but as you stare around the chaos of the room, at the fevered paintings of him, only him, always him, your heart knows what to do. Whether you like it or not, you can’t go back in time and start new, start fresh. But you can go forward, and you know exactly where your feet will take you.

Well, maybe not exactly, because you’ve never been to Taehyung’s house. But shoving on some sneakers and wrappin yourself up in a jacket, you figure you can find it. The island’s population was barely fifty, and all the houses were in the same sleepy neighborhood behind the main street.

It’s after knocking on exactly twenty-six doors that you realise maybe you should just ask if the stranger knew Taehyung’s address, rather than leaving when somebody unfamiliar answered the door. Shivering, even with the thick padded jacket you’re bundled in, you decide that the next house better be the last. If they didn’t know where Tae was, you could just come back and pick up where you left off tomorrow.

The street is so silent that your sneaker soles on the gravel fill the void entirely, amplified in the chilled night air. As you went on, and the moon passed the center of the sky, less and less people even opened their doors, some that did scolding you for waking them at such an hour. You’d feel bad, only your mind’s entirely locked on one single person.

The next house you reach is small, like most of them, but looks particularly well-groomed compared to most. A gleaming white postbox with the number 13B rests beside the driveway and footpath, both of which are bordered by lush, freshly-mowed grass, almost black in the darkness. Like a beacon, a single lamplight shines white-yellow above the front door, and your eyes ache with the warm brightness as you knock.

After fifteen or so seconds, you hear muffled movement inside, and straighten your back expectantly, mentally running through your speech. A light turns on behind lacy curtains to the left, and eventually a blurred silhouette approaches in the foyer, unlocking the door.

You put on your most sympathetic smile and take in a breath when it cracks, revealing an older woman in mismatching winter pyjamas. “I’m so sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I was wondering if you knew a boy called-” As your eyes search the old woman’s face, you freeze. You know those eyes. “K-Kim Taehyung?” you finish, blinking widely at the woman who somehow looks so familiar.

Rather than grumble about the time or huff, she smiles broadly, lips tugging up in a boxy smile. “Well, of course, he’s my grandson!” The smile drops, brows furrowing in concern. “Is he alright?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, eyes widening. “I- oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you,” you gush, her eyes crinkling fondly at your words. “Sorry, uh- yes, Taehyung is okay, I just-” You stop yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. “Mrs. Kim, you probably don’t even know me, but I did something bad and I need to make it right with him and I just… I think I’m in love with your grandson.” The moment you finish, something in your heart settles at the sound of the words lingering in the air.

She takes her time to reply, letting the words sink into her with a thoughtful sigh. “Darling, am I right in assuming your name is Y/n?”

You swallow quickly. “Yes, that’s right.”

She nods with a fond smile, a glimmer in her eye. “Then I think there’s something you should come see.”

“Inside?” After she waves you in and guides you to slip off your shoes and step into some house slippers instead, you find yourself awkwardly following her down a homely, perfumed hallway. “By the way, I’m so sorry for waking you.”

She waves it off before you even finish your sentence, sending you a kind wink. “No bother to me, lovie. I’m just glad you didn’t wake the dog.”

“The dog?” you mumble to yourself, before halting suddenly as Mrs. Kim pauses in front of a door, hand resting on the glass knob.

“My grandson’s been visiting me more lately, you see,” she explains, turning the knob to reveal a room in complete darkness, nothing inside visible. “He had so much to tell me and so much to do, became as hyper as a boy on Christmas morning! He told me not to go in here, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You step inside on her indication, breath caught in your throat as your eyes struggle to adjust. “I don’t understand…”

“Lovie, don’t worry about whatever went wrong with you two. You love him and… Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but it’s clear he loves you too.” And with that, she flicks the light on and the room comes into focus.

A barn. That’s the first thing you see. A painting of a bright, sprawling barn with a tiny dilapidated kennel in its shadow, wobbly letters spelling out YEONTAN. On the wall directly across from the door rests the original painting of The Barn at Icheon, close to a meter wide and half a metre high. The question of why he’d keep this prized possession of his in a random room barely bigger than a closet dies on your tongue as you turn, seeing the other walls.

A sketch of a bird you’d seen and wanted to show him, clumsily sketched on the back of a receipt with a pen from the lady at the grocery store checkout; a smudged map of your old neighborhood in Seoul that he’d made you draw on a napkin when you were explaining to him how far away the art supply store was; a tourism pamphlet that you and Taehyung had found on a park bench, drawing little Bigfoot silhouettes on the pictures of mountains and mermaids on the beaches. Every one of these thoughtless scrawls, careless scribbles and hurried drawings are here, each one framed or mounted like in a gallery, in order of the time they were made. You turn around slowly, barely noticing Taehyung’s grandmother in the doorway, giving you a knowing look. Finally, on the last wall, the trail of pieces disappear with a final creation, a canvas.

Feeling tears gather in your eyes, you look at the black smear of a mailbox, the wonky shops, the two tall trees incongruously planted in the middle of the street. And, in the bottom right corner painted meticulously in teal, the same teal as his hair, Y/n and Taehyung.

You let out a sob, turning back to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing me this,” you make out in a voice thickened with tears, “but I really need to see him. Can you please give me his address?”

With a look of warm empathy, she steps forward to clasp your shoulders gently, maternally. “He told me about what happened, luvie. He doesn’t blame you.”

Trembling, you wipe the wetness from your cheeks and sniff. “He should,” you admit sullenly, “he’s too good for me. He’s been nothing but kind and patient and caring and all I’ve done is let him down.” Something occurs to you, and you frown in confusion. “Wait… Did he stop by and tell you?”

Her hands squeeze your upper arms comfortingly before dropping them and stepping back. “Oh honey,” she coos, and your heart stops as she steps aside out of the doorway, letting another, taller figure enter the room.

“Taehyung,” you whisper in shock, but before you can even comprehend his presence, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug. You feel thick layers of pressure and worry evaporate off of you with a single moment, lungs filling with the familiar scent of him, body relaxing with his chin resting on your head and his arms cradling you. For what feels like a small eternity, you let yourself be fully enveloped in him, an indescribable catharsis of finally being in his arms once more. As your tears dry on the soft flanelette of his pyjama shirt and your fingers clutch at his back, you feel a thought transform into a certainty. “I love you, Taehyung,” you confess quietly, and his whole body shudders with a sob, arms tightening around you even more.

“I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, chest rumbling against your ear as he speaks. “And please don’t ever call yourself broken. You’re not. I didn’t love the art, I loved you. Because the art is a part of you Y/n, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“Tae,” you breathe shakily, his name the only word on your lips.

A soft voice comes from the hallway, Taehyung’s grandmother quietly excusing herself to “leave the two lovebirds alone.” You barely notice, lost in the way Taehyung gently rocks you back and forth in his arms, soothing you.

“I missed you,” you hear Taehyung whisper into your hair, nuzzling his nose gently.

Though you shiver at the feeling, you let out a teary laugh. “I saw you a day ago.”

“But it wasn’t the same then,” he insists softly, and a slow breath escapes you weakly. “It’s okay; you’re here now. You-” he breaks off to swallow, and when he speaks again his voice is much quieter, paper thin. “You won’t walk away again, will you?”

You answer by tipping your head up to look him in the eyes warmly, rising onto the tips of your toes so that you can reach his mouth, pressing a kiss against it tenderly. “Never,” you answer surely, “I promise.”

When he smiles, it’s beautiful - that big, boxy grin you saw that day on the dunes, that day you agreed to paint with him, and so many times since. But it never fails to make you melt, lips automatically returning the gesture. “Now,” he announces with a bemused lilt in his voice. “As much as I love this makeout session in my grandma’s closet, it is 2am. Shall we go get some rest?”

Sleep comes quickly once you have Taehyung’s arm around you and your face in the crook of his neck, and you let it take you, knowing you’ll have time to savor the feeling of sleeping beside him for many days to come.

--

You take him home the next day.

He hadn’t ever been to the bungalow before, but now there was something you desperately wanted him to see. You hadn’t cleaned up before you’d suddenly began roaming the streets of the island, and as he stares around at the chaos, you kind of wish you had. “It’s pretty messy, but…”

“No,” he deflects, mouth parted and eyes wide in wonder, “don’t apologise, this is- wow.” He steps further into the room, stepping over discarded paint tubes, dried canvases and uncleaned brushes. He takes a moment to take in each work. Every single one of them a snapshot of him. “How- When did you do all this?”

You bite your lip, loitering in the entryway. “From when I got back that night until I decided to come looking for you.”

He furrows his brow, fingers gently skimming the top edge of the painting that rests on the easel in the center of the room, the first one you’d painted. His teal growouts, his uneven eyes, the moles dotted so intricately on his face. Your Tae. “You haven’t been able to pick up a brush in months, and then...all this?”

“This was easy,” you say with a shake of your head, “it was easy because it was you.”

He turns, then, glancing at you over his shoulder with eyes brimming with affection. “You really love me.”

A disbelieving grin stretches across your lips. “The midnight confession didn’t make it clear enough?”

“It’s not that, I- I can read it,” he explains, stepping back over to you. “The Barn at Icheon is filled with loneliness, and a lot of your other works talk about fear or curiosity or patience. But this is all love. And it’s me.”

“It’s you,” you confirm with a soft smile, “I love you, Taehyung. So much.”

His eyes light up, then, a cheeky glimmer as his hand reaches out, gripping your elbow and giving it a playful shake. “If I’m your mojo then, you should paint something else today,” he bargains, “I wanna see your genius in action. The black mailbox sadly doesn’t qualify.”

Your mouth drops open in mock outrage, shoving his chest with a whine. “That’s not fair! You said you liked it better black.” Looking around at the disaster zone of the bungalow, you sigh. “I also don’t think I have any paintable surfaces left. I missed the housekeeper so I’ll probably get a fine as it is.”

“Use me, then.”

“Haven’t I painted you enough?” you fire back, but Taehyung just shakes his head emphatically.

“Paint on me. Here,” he says, and his hands leave yours in order to find the hem of his shirt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it into a far end of the room. “A big old waterfall, right down the middle. Rock pool at the bottom.”

“Stop it!” You blush fiercely, hands coming up to cover your cheeks as your eyes feast on his chest, the smooth planes and taut skin, a beautiful golden bronze. “Taehyung…”

For the first time, he doesn't press further. Instead, his shoulders sag, teasing facade slipping. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll stop."

Inexplicably, you find yourself wanting to prove you aren't fragile anymore, unbroken just as he'd insisted you were last night. "I can do it," you protest, stepping away from him to fossick for some usable brushes. "Lie down, then."

Taehyung freezes. "Uh. Yeah, yeah, okay, gimme one sec, I'll just-" With the enthusiasm of a boy having his first kiss, Taehyung hunkers down on the newspaper-covered carpet, shuffling some tools and tubes and palettes out of the way. He looks beautiful like that, chest rising and falling shakily with anticipation, warm brown eyes widened on you. "You don't have to paint a waterfall, you know," he assures hurriedly. "Whatever you do will be perfect."

Heart leaping at his words, you feel a streak of confidence deep inside you, and instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his hips with a newly-filled palette in one hand and a brush in the other. "I want you to guess," you announce from above him, eying his chest and wondering how the colours might fill the space. "Guess what I'm painting. It'll be fun!"

Taehyung's throat bobs with a harsh swallow, nodding quickly. "O-okay, yeah, let's do that," he agrees weakly.

You smile warmly, and begin dipping into a forest green, coating the tips of the bristles. Bending down, you mark a single point of green on the top of his chest, just below his collarbone. The moment the cool paint touches his skin, Taehyung shudders, eyes falling shut. "Okay?" you check. He nods again, chest heaving, and so you continue tracking colour, gradual swoops downwards. Each drag of the brush makes Taehyung's breath catch, and you watch as goosebumps break out on his bare arms.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, lips barely moving like he didn't even intend to speak.

Your lip twitches, but still you focus, topping up the brush whenever the lines became too spotty. After trailing down to just above the level of his belly button, you raise the brush again, starting a new form on the other side of his chest, this one smaller. "Any idea what it is?" you question, but Taehyung just sighs airily.

Once you're finished with the forest green, you wipe your brush off on the edge of your palette and go for a deeper shade, pressing in shadows under each swipe of green. It's once you're working on the bottom half of the second structure that you begin to feel a hardness between your legs, the point where you're straddling him. Shocked, you look up, but Taehyung's covered his eyes with the back of his hand, face turned to the side with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out once he feels you stop. "Didn't mean to."

With a fond smile, you lean down, careful not to smudge the wet paint, and gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch and his lips part in surprise, but he otherwise stays still. "It's okay," you soothe, "if it's any consolation, I feel the same way right now."

Like a switch is flipped, Taehyung lifts his hand and tucks his chin, looking down at where the two of you are pressed together, then back up at your face. "Seriously?"

You laugh warmly. "Taehyung, I love you and you're currently lying beneath me, half-naked, writhing every time the brush touches you. Of course I'm turned on."

His cheeks flush hotter and he bites his lip. "You can- you can keep going. Keep painting."

Obediently continuing to fill in the shadow across his stomach, you grin. "Still no guesses on what I'm painting? I'm almost done, you know."

He cranes his neck down further, but the angle prevents him from seeing much. "Some-something green? I'll be honest with you, my focus really isn't-fuck!"

You suppress a laugh as he shudders, hands reaching out to clutch at your pants. Having finished the shadow, you'd mixed a paler green to add some light points on the tops, and one of those swipes had just happened to land across the top of one of his nipples, already stiff from arousal. You continue dipping colour here and there, smirking at the paint that covers the dark brown of his right nipple.

"You tease," Taehyung complains with furrowed brows. "Fuck, that felt good. Please tell me you need to paint the other one too."

You hum in mock thought, transferring your brush to the hand with the palette so that you can reach out, swiping a thumb over the sensitive flesh. Taehyung's whole body jerks, his hips beginning to grind under you, the dull friction pulling a pleasured sigh from your lips that's blessedly drowned by his drawn-out moan. "Why the pout, Tae? This was your idea."

"Next time I'm holding the paintbrush," he promises, hips moving slowly beneath you, eyes lidded as they focus on you, "then you won't be so cocky."

His words send a hot rush of arousal through you, and you rock your hips unconsciously, swallowing a moan. "Next time," you repeat breathily, "but for now I'm almost done."

It only takes a few more touches of pale green, followed by two vertical strokes of brown, before you're putting your tools aside, and standing up off of him.

Taehyung groans in complaint when your hips leave him, his casual grey sweatpants tented and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"Come see," you guide, tugging at his hand. "I have a mirror in my room."

He gets up, palming himself with a pout before following you down the hall, pulled along by your interlocked hands. Once in front of the mirror, Taehyung lifts his eyebrows at just how wrecked he looks. Bottom lip swollen from biting at it, hair mussed and sticking up, and a burst of green slowly drying on his torso. "It's...trees?"

"It's us," you explain softly, "like that painting we did together the first time." From beside him, you reach around to gently tap each figure, two tall fir trees, the one on his right taller than the one on his left. "One for you and one for me."

Before you can pull your arm back, his hand comes up to flatten yours against his chest, hands going cold where the paint is still wet in places.

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

"Y/n," he said slowly, head turning to look at you, eyes brimming with affection, "will you let me make love to you?"

Your breath catches, and rather than trusting your voice, you nod wordlessly.

With a deep exhale, he bends down and joins your lips with his, a hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, keeping you close. His lips are hot against yours, passionate and wanting, and your stomach warms with desire. Clumsily, your fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it as far as you can before you have to break apart from him, flinging it away once it clears your head.

"The bed?" Taehyung pants in the moments his mouth is free, and you nod, shucking off your jeans before getting onto the mattress in just your bra and panties. "God, you're beautiful," he chants, "how did I get so lucky?"

He slips out of his sweatpants and joins you sitting on the edge, but your eyes linger on his face, the way his eyes soften and crinkle when they meet yours. "I'm the lucky one," you reply simply.

You shiver when a large palm runs up your bare thigh, warm and grounding. "Can I go down on your first?" he asks with a pleading gaze.

You laugh weakly. "I'm definitely the lucky one." In confirmation, you lie yourself back, scooting so your head rests on the pillows.

Hand now having slid down your leg to rest over your ankle, he wraps his fingers around and lifts it off the bed delicately, your knee crooking and legs parting. Smoothly, he slips himself in the gap, lying on his stomach and letting your raised leg rest on his shoulders. With eyes heavy on you, he leans forward slowly and licks a strip over your clothed pussy, a dull kiss of friction across your clit. You groan, head lolling back, and he takes it as his initiative to continue, sucking at the juices that have dampened your panties until the whole crotch is wet, your thighs shaking slightly with your increased sensitivity.

"Tae, please," you breath out, "I wan' more."

A finger slips below the hem of your panties, just over your hipbone. "Should we take these off?" You nod with a needy whimper, lifting your hips to give him easier access.

He sits up to slide them down your legs, calmly spreading your thighs again when you get the self-conscious urge to close them. With only your bra on, you feel so vulnerable, but rather than scaring you, you feel at peace, so happy to be having this moment with Taehyung.

When he shuffles back into place again, he takes his time, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. At your needy wiggle of your hips, he chuckles and rubs soothingly at the top of your leg where it's crooked over his shoulder, finally dipping his head again to lick at you.

He starts out maddeningly light, the very tip of his tongue flicking slowly over your clit, tentatively venturing out to dip between your folds. You reach out for his hand, needing something to anchor you, and he smiles against you as he interlocks your fingers, keeping you grounded.

"So good, Tae," you encourage, moaning openly when his tongue trails lower and dips between your folds, over your entrance. "Fuck, so good."

Rather than answer verbally, Taehyung doubles his efforts and begins to speed up, lapping at your core and suckling your clit.

Every breath is a moan or a whimper, overtaken by pleasure, but you let yourself drown in it, letting Taehyung eat you out like a man starved. With one hand on your upper thigh and one entwined with yours, he's got no fingers free to play with you, but expertly he brings you to your peak with just his tongue, thrusting it inside you as his nose nudges at your clit.

When you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your moans heighten and your back begins to arch, hips grinding against him desperately. Taehyung chuckles, the sound vibrating against you and making you shudder, and his hand slips high to press against your waist instead, holding you in place for him. Your thighs tense around him, praises and curses and his name spilling from your lips incoherently.

It's one last nibble at your clit, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his tongue over it, your vision whites out with the force of your orgasm, jerking beneath him and crying out wantonly, overcome with pleasure. He works you through it diligently, groaning as you come down from your high with weak shivers, his tongue never ceasing until you push at his head from oversensitivity.

He lets your leg down carefully, kissing his way up your bare stomach, the swells of your breasts and your throat until his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on him, feel the ends of his hair tickling against your cheeks.

"That was incredible, Tae," you pant out, feeling boneless beneath him as he takes charge of the kiss, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth. "I need you," he gasps, and you moan throatily when his clothed crotch grinds against your bare core, the fabric of his underwear catching on your sensitive clit. He's hard, probably painfully so, and all you want is to feel him inside you.

Desperate, your fingers slip behind you, arching your back so that you can deftly release the clasp of your bra, pulling it off hastily before reaching for his underwear. "I need you too, Tae," you plea, "please hurry."

His fingers, slightly cool from the air, slide down your stomach and between your thighs, making you jump as he slips two inside, thrusting them slowly. You're still sensitive, and his mouth falls to your ear, hushing you and pressing encouraging kisses to your temple as you whimper. "Doing so well for me," he praises, "just gotta make sure you're ready, okay?"

"O-okay," you make out, sucking in a breath when he pulls out and presses a third finger inside you, picking up his pace. Gradually, the prickling overstimulation warms into pleasure again, and you rock your hips to seek more friction, free hand coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, holding him close.

With no bra on, your full chest is flat against his, and as the paint dries it drags over your nipples, making you arch your back, seeking out the friction.

The warmth between your legs tightens with the extra stimulation, and your breath begins to catch, feeling another orgasm oncoming.

"Close?" Taehyung murmurs in your ear as he widens the gaps between his fingers inside you, scissoring to stretch you even more. You nod hastily, moans getting stuck in your throat, pushed out with every gasped breath. Taehyung hums in response, and you whimper when you feel his fingers slipping out of you completely. Before you can protest, the blunt head of his cock slips between your sopping folds, Taehyung running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

"Fuck, yes, please Tae, I'm ready," you babble, legs lifting to wrap around his hips, attempting to pull him in closer.

He chuckles, but it's cut off prematurely by a hissed breath of pleasure as he lines up and begins to sink his length into you, a delicious feeling of fullness after his fingers left you so empty. Taehyung enters you slowly, letting you adjust, and you feel completely enveloped by him; his voice in your ear, his hand in yours, his cock inside you.

"Need you, Tae," you whine once he stills, bottomed out, "please move."

"Are you ready?" You wiggle your hips with a groaned yes, arm tightening around him as he pulls back. He stops when just his head still rests inside you, pauses for a moment with a moan as you clench around him, and then plunges back in with one slick thrust.

You cry out, satisfied smile stretching tiredly across your face as he finally begins a steady rhythm, favoring deeper thrusts that make your toes curl. "Yes, Tae, so good!"

"God, you're still so tight," he groans throatily, "so good for me."

On the edge before, you find yourself close after only a few minutes, and you tell him with a shaky breath. Taehyung lets out a relieved exhale as he continues to thrust into you. "Thank fuck," he huffs out, panting a word at a time, "I'm not gonna last, you drive me crazy."

You press your head against his, nuzzling at it as you unwrap your arm from around his shoulders, instead seeking out your clit for the needed friction to push you over the edge. The added stimulation has you clenching, and Taehyung swears desperately, his pace picking up but shuddering as he gets close.

The two of you pant loudly into the otherwise silent room, filling each others' ears with whimpered moans and slurred praises, until you finally catch the tip of your peak, and with one final drag of his cock inside you, you're falling apart, not suddenly and violently like the first time, but rather a slow, hot wave of pleasure that works its way out from your core, down to your toes and fingertips, clenching tightly around Taehyung until he curses and spills inside you, shuddering through his release.

"I love you so much," you whisper once you come down from your high, a contented exhaustion seeping into your bones.

"I love you too," Taehyung says with a final press of his lips on your temple.

---

"This one's gorgeous. I love the broad lines on the ocean compared to the texture of rocks on the shore. This is at the island, you say?"

You hum in confirmation, smiling at your old friend. "You should see, it, Joonie. There's this little cluster of houses and shops right in the middle but the rest is just open nature. Forests, beaches, everything in the middle. I go there every year."

Kim Namjoon, Director at the Leeum Museum in Seoul and avid nature buff, takes one last look at the landscape canvas and grins. "Ah, twist my arm..." You follow him as he moves down the line of mounted canvases, stopping at a familiar portrait. He furrows his brows and cocks his head. "I feel like I've seen this guy before, something about the face... He didn't have green in his hair though, I must be confused."

You laugh at your friend, spying a shock of red through the swathes of people. "You have seen him before," you explain, catching the figure's eye, "you would have seen him here tonight."

In front of you, Namjoon raises his brows. "Oh, really? Who is he, then?"

Over Namjoon's shoulder, you watch Taehyung approach, turning heads with his scarlet dye. He gives you a wink, and you grin back. "He's my husband."

[clearcorona]

playing with fire pt 2 // dabi x fem!reader

Part One

Trigger warning: Blood, gory descriptions

Touya didn't have any evidence to back his case, but he knew his father must've had something to do with your disappearance. He had known you for years before you started dating and knew that you weren't the type to run off with your tail between your legs, so he knew something was up.

He kept searching, kept giving himself hope. I know you're out there, (Y/N), he'd think to himself before he continued searching for something, anything, that would help him find you.

It had been nearly four years since you had gone, and the Todoroki siblings were slowly getting more worried for their older brother. They knew you would've tried to contact them if you really were still out there. However, they also knew that his loyalty towards you was endless, and that he wouldn't stop searching until he found the truth, even if he ended up dying in the process.

"Touya?" Fuyumi called out softly, Natsuo standing behind her. Shouto was pulled away by Enji once more to continue going through the grueling training as the heir of the Todoroki company.

"What, Fuyumi?" Touya snapped, before letting out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. His hair was no longer the jet black it had once been, too caught up with searching for you to really take time for himself and dye his hair again. Natsuo frowned, hating how much of a slump their older brother was in because of your sudden disappearance.

"Touya, you look absolutely awful," Natsuo said bluntly, earning a glare from the redhead.

"That was harsh, Natsuo...," Fuyumi muttered.

"Look, you really need to take some time for yourself. You've barely been eating or taking care of yourself. What would (Y/N) think if she saw you like this?" Natsuo continued like Fuyumi hadn't even spoken. "We'll help in whatever way we can, just please... Please start taking care of yourself more."

Touya suddenly felt guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn't exactly been the best big brother without you being around. You were the one who kept him in check and he was slowly falling apart. How long has it been since you simply vanished? Four? Five? It was an excruciatingly long period of time, but he wasn't quite sure. The longest period of time he had gone without seeing you was nearly a week, because you two got into an argument. He missed seeing your smile, hearing your laugh. He was thankful for the pictures and videos he had of you.

Who knows what would happen if he found himself slowly forgetting you.

"Fine...," Touya sighed, deciding that they were right. As much as he loved (Y/N), he had to watch out for his siblings, too.

"Great! I'll go get Shouto and we can head out," Natsuo beamed before walking out of Touya's room.

-

"Why must you keep tabs on me, old man?" you sighed, stirring the mug of coffee with your spoon to mix everything around. He scoffed in response.

"Don't get smart with me, girl," the older Todoroki hissed and you rolled your eyes. "You know exactly why I'm keeping tabs on you."

"Yeah, and I'm keeping up my end of the bargain. You've relocated me seven different times in the past four years. No one's going to find me and I'm not going to call them," your heart sank as those words left your lips. He had destroyed your phone that held the majority of your pictures with Touya and the other Todoroki siblings.

"Well, I would hope not. You know exactly what'll happen if you do. You're being relocated by the end of this week. I'll send you the address to meet my men at."

"I've only been here for two weeks!"

"Disobey me and you know what happens." You scowled, digging your nails into the flesh of your palms as he hung up. He was infuriating and all you wanted to do was see the people you loved the most in the world. The more time you spent away from them, the more you felt like there was no hope left for you.

Four years had passed. Four incredibly long years that made you wish you had just told Touya everything. You could've run away with his siblings and only told Rei where you were going. Tears welled up in your eyes, tempted to just call the number you had memorized by heart, but you didn't want him to get hurt.

His siblings needed him more than you did, even if it pained you.

Enji seemed to always place you in rather remote areas, but the along with the address he had sent to meet his men, he had also sent you another one which was most likely where you were going to end up next.

"A city? That's new...," you muttered to yourself, but you weren't complaining. You felt like you were going to go crazy if you stayed in the middle of nowhere all alone any longer. You then sighed, knowing there was probably going to be higher security around you while you stayed in the city. "Whatever... Probably not going to stay there for long."

Just being a part of this whole ordeal made you see parts of Japan you had never seen before, and although some places were beautiful enough to make you want to stay, you missed the comfort of Touya's room.

"I'm sorry, Touya..."

-

"Dabi, come on! I've been waiting for this day all week...," you pouted and Touya dragged his feet as he caught up with you, having a hard time wrapping his head around why you were so excited.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Touya asked in response, letting you grab his hand and lead him towards a store. Great... Shopping. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

As soon as you were inside the store, you took off to go look at the racks of clothes, but made sure to stay close enough so he could see you. Touya turned his attention to one of the displays for a moment before turning back to face you again.

But you were gone.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N), where are you?"

He was then plunged into darkness, his blood running cold as he heard an ear piercing shriek calling his name.

"(Y/N)?!" He ran through the pitch black darkness around him, not sure where he was headed. "Dammit!"

A single spotlight shone down, illuminating a body in the blackness of wherever he was, his eyes widening as he took in what he was seeing.

He wished he wasn't seeing what he was actually seeing, but he'd recognize you anywhere.

Your body was mangled and blood pooled around where your right leg used to be. The dismembered limb sat just outside of where the spotlight shone down on your body, but that wasn't even the worst of it.

Your hair was pulled out in certain places, leaving bald spots, and a part of it was shaved off, revealing a nasty head wound that was oozing blood. Your fingers on your left hand were all bent at awkward angles and your eyeballs were cut out and placed in your right hand.

He was sure the the worst possible sight of it all was the hole in the left side of your chest.

He hesitantly stepped towards your body, feeling like he was going to be sick as he saw your still beating heart sitting beside your body.

"It's all your fault, Touya," he heard you say, but your lips didn't move.

"No... (Y/N), you know I would never let anything happen to you," he said, choking on his words.

"You're a liar. You promised."

"No! No, please... Please!" Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I swear, (Y/N)!"

"Fuck you, Touya. It would've been better off if we never met."

Touya woke up, screaming. His body was drenched in sweat and tears rolled off his cheeks. The sight of your mangled body was burned into his brain and your words repeated in his mind like a broken record.

The Todoroki siblings burst into his room, immediately worried for their older brother. Touya sat up with his head in his hands, his body wracked with sobs.

"Touya, what happened?" Fuyumi asked as she rushed over to his bedside. Natsuo and Shouto came to the other side. She rubbed his back gently, and the three waited patiently until their older brother finally calmed down, his sadness fading into anger.

"We're going to find (Y/N)," he said firmly, getting out of bed.

"What? Right now? It's the middle of the night!" Natsuo exclaimed, watching as the redhead shoved some clothes into a duffle bag.

"Yeah, and I need to find her," Touya replied, tugging at his hair. "I had this dream... She was... Dead and her whole body was mangled up... She said it was all my fault and if she's out there, I want to make sure I get there before something bad happens."

A silence settled across the room before Shouto spoke up. "Where do we start?"

"I have no clue. I believe our father may have something to do with (Y/N)'s disappearance. She wouldn't have left without letting any of us know," Touya said with a sigh.

"But if she's okay, don't you think she would've contacted us?" Fuyumi asked, handing the shirt that Touya gestured to on his bed.

"That's the thing. If our father had something to do with it, he wouldn't want her to contact us. He always hated (Y/N)," Touya said, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere.

"So... What do we do?" Shouto asked.

"Well... Looks like we're doing some snooping." Touya smirked.

"Alright. Let's get started," Natsuo smiled.

[averyevcns]

welcome to the revamp my friends!

Don’t be fooled! That’s not HAYLEY WILLIAMS you saw on campus but in fact was AVERY EVANS. The 24 year old JUNIOR identifies as CIS FEMALE and is often described as IMPULSIVE, RECKLESS & GENUINE. When I think of them I imagine ROAD TRIPS WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND & ALL THE COLOURS OF THE SUNSET. I sure hope studying MUSIC is keeping HER busy. ( callie, 21, gmt, she/her )

tw: drug mentions, self harm mentions.

hello friends this is Avery! She pretty cool and stuff but here’s some more in depth info. it’s a mess and i’m not even sorry.

full name: Avery Clara Johanna Evans

d.o.b: May 21st, 1994.

height: 4′11.75 (tells everyone she’s 5′0)

weight: 98lbs.

eye colour: green

hair colour: naturally red - currently dyed platinum blonde.

tattoos: storm cloud behind her left ear, heart on her right wrist, treble clef behind her right ear. piercings: ear lobes, seconds, helix (left ear). wants more piercings but hardly has the time. scars/distinguishing marks (TW) : She has faded scars from self harming when she was younger across her stomach and thighs that she’s really insecure about. She also has a scar on her ankle from a surgery and a similar scar on her right hip for the same reason.

her parents divorced when she was pretty young and she grew up with her mother.

she has 3 half sisters and 2 half brothers. all from her dads new wife when he moved to california. she loves her half siblings but really does not get along with her dad.

visits california like twice a year at the most.

was born in nashville but spent most of her life in brooklyn. sometimes her nashville accent comes out a lil more but that’s usually when she’s tired or she’s been talking to her mom or relatives that still live there.

her and her mom spend a month in the summer in Nashville at her grandparents!!

avery’s family on her mom’s side are very wealthy and come from old money.

she’s rich. like,         rich. her mom pays for her apartment that she lives in in Rochester and pays the mortgage for their three bedroom apartment in brooklyn.

her mom is also a classical musician and earns her money from being a music therapist but also playing occasionally with the new york philharmonic and doing session musician work.

avery also occasionally plays with the rochester philharmonic - when she’s in rochester - and sometimes with the new york philharmonic with her mom when she’s not. will usually play violin or viola. also has done solo performances!! on violin, flute, and cello.

her dad is not a good person but he sends avery money every month bc he’s fucking loaded and thinks that money is the way to his daughters heart.

she is naturally a redhead but can and will dye it every colour under the sun. it’s currently platinum blonde if you wanted to know that kinda thing.

new she was Not Straight from a young age and currently identifies as pansexual!

spent some time after high school playing in orchestra’s and teaching children how to play piano and loved it but ultimately wants to get her doctorate in music.

is studying music because she’s always loved it - she loves how connecting it is because everyone has at least a few songs or an artist that they like, it’s crazy.

plays a lot of different instruments fairly well but is best at singing, piano, and violin.

also plays cello, clarinet, piccolo, guitar - electric and acoustic, ukulele, viola, flute, saxophone, oboe, bassoon, bass guitar, double bass, and harp.

aside from English she can also speak French fluently, and some German and Italian. Learning a little bit of Russian too. y’know, for cussing out classical composers in the afterlife.

is a romantic but not gr8 at expressing emotions healthily all the time.

(TW) was in a really shitty relationship as a teenager - which is where her drug addiction started - and was in a very low place when they eventually dropped her. has old scars across her thighs and stomach that she keeps covered as much as possible. if someone else sees them it’s usually on purpose and bc avery Trusts them implicitly.

loves a good party, is trying her hand at being sober because she had a heart to heart with someone and it made her realise that what she was doing wasn’t healthy. it’s a struggle though, relying on drugs for like 9 years?? fucks u up.

lowkey still deals drugs.

Apart from being a classical musician and friendly neighbourhood drug dealer she’s also a huge nerd! She loves video games, fantasy/sci-fi movies, anything stereotypically nerdy and she probably loves it. LotR, Star Wars, Legend of Zelda, Harry Potter, etc.

makes friends pretty easily, can talk at length about most things, is pretty good at changing the conversation if she gets bored. the mom friend. “just because i did it doesn’t mean you should - i make stupid decisions.”

forgets to eat sometimes, writing and playing take up a huge part of her life and she sometimes truly does just…forget!!

can usually be found writing music in unusual places - sat on a table at the library, in the corner of a party (whilst a lil bit buzzed), on the roof. anywhere.

wcs - give me all the friends pls. a music friend! maybe someone who isn’t a great influence and tries to talk avery into doing drugs again? someone to keep her on the straight and narrow! if anyone wanted to play her awful ex that would be Great - can be any gender just h m u. uhhh i think it would be feasible to have a couple more half siblings mayb???

taken connections -

boyfriend - aedan

half sister - elena

ummmmmmm

i don’t think there’s anything left for me to put???????

hmu for any plots you want i’m open to all of the things!!!

[ridleytheknight]

Games and Piercings (Voltron Langst One-Shot)

Based on the prompt by @ohwhataprettypinkhat ! Please do enjoy!

           Lance had a game as a child, being the middle child. He really didn’t get too much attention from anyone except for the stray little one or two. Or when something drastic happened to him, like a broken limb or something. Which is why he created the game. Whenever he would talk, and he would notice someone not listening. He’d say something crazy. He’d remembered one time specifically. He was maybe eight at the time. With a gap-toothed grin and a mint green band-aid on his cheek as he babbled to his mother. Wild hand gestures and crazy exaggerations as she chopped vegetables at the stove. He remembered her nodding along, humming ‘yes’s and ‘okay dear’s every so often as he paused.

           “Hey Mama, I’m going to go off to war and break my arm, okay? A hum.

           “Okay mijo, go have fun.” Lance frowned before he stumbled off. Later that day he did actually break his arm. His friend’s mom had to call the ambulance and Lance’s mother hadn’t even know he was at the hospital when his friend’s mother drove him home and talked to Lance’s mother herself. Lance had smiled as he was smothered with attention and love from Garcia’s mother. But, it wasn’t his mother’s attention. It wasn’t the attention he wanted.

           They’d never notice.

           Even when he went off to Garrison, the game continued. Telling instructors he was going to go clubbing. Or that he was off to become a rebel fighter. Giving loud, exuberant stories about sailing the seas. Hell. He told his best friend Hunk he was going to go throw himself off the Garrison room. All he got was a absent minded smile and a ‘okay, see you at curfew.’ Lance wasn’t even sure Hunk had heard the leaving part.

           Then he was a paladin. One of five defender of the universe, fighting an intergalactic war. He was the first one chosen in over ten thousand years. And still, when he’d make jokes, or give his serious opinions. No one heard him. After so many years of the same game, he’d finally gotten bored. So, Lance did the only logical thing.

           Change up the rules.

           Allura was one of the few who noticed him, so she helped him out with his little game. Smiled when he told her the rules. How he’d say crazy things to see if someone was listening. Except for now, just like that one time when he was eight. He’d actually do them. And see how long it took for them to notice the changes.

           First was with Pidge, he’d sat in a room with her for three hours. Talking loudly and in great detail about the new blue highlights he was going to get in his hair when they stopped off in the next planet. How they’d be blue and teal and he was going to look like a god damn gorgeous fucking mermaid. Pidge only ignored him, only noticing and greeting him with a ‘huh?’ after three hours of Lance talking. The reason she noticed him was because Allura had entered the room and called his name.

           He’d gotten his hair dyed on that planet, just as he said he would. And no one noticed.

           The next one was his first ear piercings, he had been sparring with Keith, spouting nonsense as they fought in hand to hand combat. Lance was losing pretty much the entire time. But Lance knew that wasn’t anything new. Keith barely could tell the difference from fighting a training bot from fighting Lance. He got his piercing the very next day. Allura had done them herself. After one of their self-care and venting sessions.

           And it just spiraled from there. Hunk was cooking one day as Lance was drawing and talking about a tattoo of the ocean themed Lion he was going to get to cover most of his upper left arm. Shiro was his verbal bouncy wall for both his right eyebrow piercings. Pidge, that was his tongue piercing. Keith caused his lip piercings, both of them. Hunk had driven him for the belly button piercing. Shiro had gotten him the star tattoos on the corner of his right eye. It was fun yeah, Lance loved the little changes in himself. Each one gave him confidence in his appearance, but they also hurt him.

           It was like a reminder. Each thing he got was a time he was ignored. Rejected and alone. There were like constant reminders of his failings to get the attention he craved. Even Allura was getting agitated. Assuring him that she always noticed when he added the more noticeable things, and being surprised and often delighted and intrigued to see the more obscure and hidden changes. Lance always smiled when she fiddled with his new piercings, buying him new shiny ones that she matched with her own ear piercings, when she admired the progress he made in training, or when she traced his new tattoos with delicate nails. In return he always helped to braid her hair, painted her nails. Hell, he’d learned how to speak Altean for her. She was like the doting big sister he’d always wanted. He’d always craved to have.

           Most of the time, it was able to shove away all of the bad thoughts. Enough to stave off the personal demons inside of him. Clawing at him and constantly nagging at him. Reminding him that he was just a speck in the universe. That he could die one day, and there would be not a single person to mourn his death or go to his funeral.

           Those thoughts hurt. Until eventually, they didn’t. Soon the buzzing thoughts became normal in the back of his mind. Fading to silence as his excitement and live retreated in the castle. Being reserved for celebrations on saved planets, or for the Alteans that paid him attention and treated him like the family he saw them as. The paladins only seeing the bored, indifferent side that Lance adopted to deal with the people who no longer seemed to even care what he did.

           At least, he thought they didn’t, but by the time they did notice he didn’t care whether they did or not.

           It was a planet with a higher rate of gravity and magnetic activity. Gahtic’al or something? It wasn’t in a tongue that Allura talked about very often, but Lance was sure he’d get it by the time he meant the natives. The only thing he recognized as noteworthy was as Pidge announced they’d have to get rid of any metal they carried on them. Lance’s eyebrow raised up. His tongue running over and rubbing against the metal in his mouth. He almost felt anxious. It’d been a while since his skin had been bare of piercings. But, Lance knew he’d have to take them out as he watched even Keith give up his knifes. Lance sighed as he stepped up.

           His hands were already reaching to his ears to take off his piercings in his ears when he felt eyes on him. Shiro was gapping at him as he pulled more and more metal off of his face. Then incredulous as Lance even pulled up his shirt to get off his belly button piercing. Shiro studied Lance up and down. There was three holes in each of Lance’s ears, one industrial bar, and two piercing holes in his right eyebrow. Snake bites, a belly button piercing. Were those tattoos on his skin too?! Shiro gaped. He. When? Lance. Who cared more about his skin and hair than he cared about his health, had piercings and tattoos? And dye in his hair?! Shiro looked around, seeing more dazed and staring paladins. Guessing he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t noticed. Maybe it had happened recently? Shiro looked back to Lance, who looked calm and relaxed. Shiro was in awe.

           The boy looked so different. His body was stronger than Shiro remembered it to be, it was still lean. But with obvious strength, power, and muscle tone that didn’t compromise the litheness of his figure. His hair was brown with shimmering hues of blue and teal that framed his tan and tattooed skin perfectly. His face was set in a neutral expression. Not unfriendly, more of a calm blankness that looked like it could change into the most heart warming smile, or the scariest glare in the world. With a sharp jawline and the soft glowing blue lights of the ship, Lance looked striking, almost ethereal. With sharp royal blue eyes that were trained on a smiling Allura. What the princess did next surprised Shiro.

           “Lance, your tongue piercing too?” Lance seemed to gauge her words for a moment before he got them. Immediately sticking out that long tongue, revealing a thick black metal piercing straight through Lance’s tongue. Causing Shiro to catch a noticeable shudder run through Keith. Almost making him smirk. Keith always had a thing for the blue paladin. And a thing for piercings. Keith had to be in heaven. But, how long had Lance had these piercings? Was Shiro so caught up in training and leading that he hadn’t notice so many drastic changes in one of his paladins? Lance grinned at Allura.

           “Thanks princess.” Pidge was the first one to talk, pointing accusingly at Lance.

           “What?! When did this happen?!” Lance quirked an eyebrow at Pidge, the expression on his face was friendly, but didn’t hold that same joking light it once did. Now it just seemed like a cool neutrality, as if he’d just noticed Pidge’s shock.

           “What? The tongue piercing? I got that…” Lance frowned and looked to Allura, [When did I get the tongue piercing again?] Shiro gaped as fluid Altean language left Lance’s lips, as if he’d spoken the language his whole life. The other paladins’ reactions were much the same as Allura answered back.

           [I’d say, eight months ago? Your newest thing was the industrial bar, which was about six months ago, and the tongue piercing was about two months before that. Didn’t you get it at that at the market place on Shero’sic?] Lance nodded.

           “Yup. I remember now. It was eight months ago. Remember? Because I got it shortly after my face tattoos.” Allura nodded.

           “Mmm, I still like your arm tattoo. But the stars are quite quaint.” Lance’s fingers brushed the two small stars just at the outer corner of his right eye. Bringing Shiro’s attention to the little stars that almost looked like beauty marks next to Lance’s almost glowingly blue eyes. Lance placed the peicings into a small bag for safe keeping and handed them to Allura to put with their other metal objects while they landed on the planet. Lance looked back at them expectantly.

           “Well? Don’t we have a job to do?” And Lance walked away from them with Allura, leaving four shocked and confused paladins in his wake. Just what happened to their blue paladin? When had his body changed so much. So drastically in front of them without notice? When had he matured into such a strong young man? Calm and patient. The gleam and innocence of a child no longer in his eyes.

           What had they done to him?

—

You wanted Part 2? You get Part 2

PART 2

[theyoongoboongo]

Hair Dye

Scenario: I hope you don’t dye your hair anymore because I really like this shade in my eyes and wow okay here you go again.

Pairing: Yoongi + Reader

Genre: Fluff + Soulmate AU (in which your eyes change colors when your soulmate dyes their hair)

Word Count: 2,058

Author’s Note: This is my first BTS scenario. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this again, because I used to write on Wattpad for 1D, but here I am. I hope you enjoy it ♡

◇ Masterlist ◇

cr.

You noticed your eyes shift colors for the first time four years ago. You were brushing your teeth when you saw it happen in a matter of seconds. Looking closer in the mirror, your natural color was gone, and a light brown had replaced it.

You ran out to where your parents were, tears streaming down your face. You thought you were losing your mind and wanted to know what was happening.

With a chuckle, your father pulled you onto the cushion next to him on the couch while your mother sat on the other side of you.

That was when you learned about soulmates.

Although it doesn’t happen to everyone, your eye color changes whenever your soulmate dyes their hair. Once their hair fades back to the natural color, so would your eyes. Usually, people dye their hair a crazy color to find their soulmate easier, while others would rather wait and see if they can find their soulmate without any help.

Your parents realized they were soulmates a year after they met. They were in love, but weren’t sure if they were with the right person. So, they went down to a corner store to buy cheap hair dye and went back to their apartment. They dyed each other’s hair and watched as both of their eyes changed colors.

Your tears dried up after realizing that this was happening to you.

To say you were relieved would be an understatement. You were happy to know that your soulmate was alive and thriving, but most of all, you were glad they decided to go with a natural color.

You spoke too soon.

A few months later, you were at the food court in the mall with your friend, Amber. You were both talking about the recent episode of your favorite show while sharing a basket of fries. Your eyes were closed as you laughed and when you opened them, her jaw had dropped. You gave her a questioning look, and she pointed at your eyes. You ran to the nearest bathroom and nearly screamed.

They were red.

You stormed out of the bathroom, curses spewing from your mouth. When you made it back to the table, she made a joke about how your face was as red as your eyes. You threw a fry at her and held back a smile.

The next time your eyes changed, they were orange. You wondered if your soulmate had a hard time committing to a color, and why they always chose the most random hues. You hoped it would stop soon.

You had just begun college when your eyes turned a pinkish color. This was a color that you didn’t mind. It wasn’t the hot pink that one of your friends had in their eyes at one point. You prayed that this color would last longer than any other.

Surprisingly, it did. You were beginning to worry, though. Your soulmate never went this long without dyeing their hair. Did something happen to them? Were they okay?

While those thoughts clouded your mind, you failed to notice a boy with pink hair walk right by you, disappearing into the music building.

The following year, you woke up with light yellow eyes. You figured your soulmate had attempted to achieve the bleached blond look, but you couldn’t fathom why.

You were a little annoyed. Out of all the colors, your soulmate wanted their hair to be bleached? They must know by now that your eyes would be the same exact color, so why would they do that? This was when you wished you had colored contacts.

With sunglasses covering your eyes and a scowl on your face, you trudged to your morning class. You were scolding yourself for thinking it would be a smart idea to even take a morning class, but that was the only available time. When you turned the corner in the hall, you collided with a boy.

You were ready to let him have it, but when you snapped your head up at him, you were taken aback by his bleached hair.

You wanted to believe that it was your soulmate, but you shook it off as a coincidence.

Before you could say anything, he quickly apologized and ran down the hallway and out the door.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about him. You spaced out in your classes, and you had a bruise on your arm when Amber slapped you to get your attention.

She asked you what was wrong, but you just waved it off with an excuse. She would never let you hear the end of it if you told her that you might have just met your soulmate, but let him go.

You pushed the memory to the back of your mind and figured that if he was your soulmate, fate would bring you back together.

The next color was mint green. You weren’t expecting this at all, but you weren’t disappointed in the slightest.

It was a beautiful color that you could pull off. Not only that, but your eyes were no longer the bleached color that made it look like you didn’t have irises.

Amber called you to meet up after her choir class so you both could walk home together because she left her key in her room. Your history class ended earlier than usual, so you went over to the music building to explore until she came out.

You were approaching the practice rooms when you heard a song being played. You crept up to the second practice room and peeked in through the window.

There, you saw a boy with mint colored hair hunched over a piano, lost in the music. It felt like you were in a trance as you stared at his figure. The angle that he was sitting didn’t allow you to see his face, but he still seemed familiar to you. It didn’t even click that your eyes matched his hair because you were so mesmerized.

You felt a tug on your jacket sleeve, causing you to snap out of it. You turned to see Amber standing there, staring down at her phone.

“Who is that?” You asked her, glancing back at the boy.

She tucked her phone into her pocket and looked at the subject of your curiosity.

“Oh, that’s Min Yoongi,” she replied.

It took her a couple of seconds to process that his hair and your eyes were the same color. She quickly grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the window.

“Ow! What the hell, Amber?” You rubbed your arm when she let go.

“How can you be so blind, Y/N? Your eyes match his hair! Maybe he’s your soulmate.”

You pondered the thought. “Maybe, but how can you be so sure?”

She was about to answer when another boy with mint green hair ran by the both of you.

“See? My soulmate could be in another country for all we know. Just forget about it for now,” you said as you looped your arm through hers. “Let’s go home, I’m tired.”

Later on in the year, they became grey. By now, you were getting tired of the changing colors.

Whenever you meet your soulmate, you planned on yelling at them for dyeing their hair so many times within a few years.

You couldn’t complain, though, because you really liked this shade on you.

You were talking to Amber in the back of your psychology class when you noticed Yoongi sitting towards the front of the room. You had never realized that he was in your class until then.

“Hey, was he always in this class?” You asked Amber, not taking your eyes off Yoongi.

She chuckled. “Yeah. Since the beginning of the semester.”

“He has grey hair now. My eyes are grey.”

“If you think he’s your soulmate, then go talk to him. There’s no harm in that.” She nudged you to go.

“Not yet. Not until I’m 100% sure,” you sighed. “Besides, three other guys in this class have the same shade in their hair.”

Amber shrugged and pulled out her notebook as your professor began class.

~

You were sitting in the coffee shop at the edge of campus with Amber. Finals week was approaching, but you both hated studying in the library with everyone else.

“Well, I mean, it could be worse,” Amber said while taking a sip of her coffee.

“I look like a fucking demon,” you mumbled, staring at your reflection on your phone.

Your irises were now completely black, which only meant that your dear soulmate has dyed their hair once more.

“Oh, hush,” she laughed. “You’ve been complaining about each color for the past four years. Maybe your soulmate is waiting for you to make a move and dye your hair.”

You sighed and put your phone on the table. “Maybe I should dye it the most ridiculous color so they’ll know how I’ve felt.”

“It’d be easier to find them. My hair has been coral for about a year now, and I have yet to see anyone with coral colored eyes. I think I want to do teal next time.”

Your mind wandered to Yoongi as Amber rambled on about colors. Ever since the day your eyes turned to grey, you had checked the practice room to see if his hair was ever a different color. Before you would peek into the window, you prayed to the heavens that his hair wouldn’t be different. The smallest bit of you wanted him to be the soulmate you had been dreaming about. Fortunately, his hair was the same grey.

“I really liked his grey hair, too,” you thought out loud.

As if he could read your mind, Yoongi walked through the coffee shop doors right after you spoke. His grey hair was now black.

You began to pack up your belongings.

“Amber, we need to go.”

“What? Why?” She quickly stuffed her papers into her backpack.

“You’re going to help me dye my hair.”

~

The next day, you practically ran to class with Amber trailing behind you. You held onto the hat that was covering your newly dyed hair. You wanted to be in the room before Yoongi so you could confront him when he came in. You fell into your seat and gathered your thoughts.

What would you do if his eyes weren’t the color of your hair? What if they are, but he doesn’t like you? Could you handle that rejection?

You couldn’t let the negative thoughts overpower the positive ones. There’s still a big chance that he was the one. You were just moments away from finding out the truth.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Yoongi slowly made his way to his seat in front. As soon as you saw him, you backed out of your plan. You didn’t want to make a scene in front of the whole class. It would be best to do this after the professor dismissed everyone at the end.

The monotonous voice of your professor made the lecture seem like it was dragging on for days. Every few minutes, you would check the clock to see if it was time to go. There were only five minutes left.

As soon as those five minutes were up, your professor turned off the projector and waved goodbye to everyone. You scrambled to grab your bag and watched as Yoongi left with the crowd of students. You didn’t even say anything to Amber as you ran after him.

“Yoongi!” You shouted. Thankfully, he heard you over everyone else’s voices.

He stopped and looked at you with confusion.

Of course, you thought, he has no idea who you are and how you even know him. How embarrassing.

When you were in directly in front of him, you looked right into his eyes.

You felt like crying when you saw the brilliant shade of purple in his irises. You took off your hat and let your hair down. He let out a  gasp as he realized what that meant.

This is who you had been searching for. The boy you ran into with bleached blond hair, the boy with mint colored hair playing the piano, and now the boy with black hair and purple eyes. You finally found him.

“It’s you.”

[dinoroarrrrrr]

CHILLING OUT MAXING RELAXING ALL COOL | DANORA

TAGGING: Dino Lopez ( @dinoroarrrrrr ) and Dani Harper ( @daninotela )

DATE: Monday, June 5, 2017

SUMMARY: Dani asked Dino to come over and dye her hair, some unexpected fuckery take place in the best way

WARNING: nsfw material (sexual)

DANI was starting to grow bored of her hair. She’d begun dying it as soon as she’d moved out of her parents’ house, and she couldn’t remember the last time it was left its natural dark brown color. Evidently, normal had just never been her style, and one color or another, Dani was definitely dying her hair today. Of all of the opinions she’d gotten in response to her status earlier, it was a surprise to exactly no one that Dino’s would be the one she’d listen to. The other girl just had this way of having Dani do anything she wanted, and she really wasn’t complaining at all. Dino’s choice had been the reason for the water running blue as Dani stood in the shower washing out the excess dye, and why the light blue towel she’d used to dry off her hair afterwards was staining dark. Luckily, her roommate was used to her turning everything blue by now, she was pretty sure. Although she was positive Dino felt at home here, she didn’t want to leave her alone for long, so dressed quickly, and pulled a brush through her newly dyed hair as she made her way out of the bathroom and to her bedroom where she’d left her best friend hanging out with Drummer. Running her fingers through her hair, she walked into the room and over to Dino, standing in front of her. “Okay, what do you think?” she asked, twirling slowly on the spot, “Go ahead, admire your work.”

DINO had been fucking stoked when Dani said she was dying her hair, because Dino was so there for the blue hair. It didn't take too long to get the dye spread pretty evenly through Dani's hair, and while Dino had worn gloves, you could find random patched of blue on her skin. That's what she got for wearing next to nothing at all times, but she did manage not to get a single stain on her new shorts, so there was that. Playing with Drummer, barking at him with faux anger, they both waiting for Dani to emerge newly dyed hair and all. As soon as she came out of the shower, Dino was on her feet Drummer in toe, as she entended a hand out to her newly blue counterpart. "It looks fucking amazing, holy fucking shit. I have never been so attracted to anyone in my life." She said continuing to turn Dani. "Like seriously super into the smurf hair apparently, damn."

DANI wasn’t specifically looking for compliments, but she knew that if she’d get genuine ones from anyone, it’d be Dino. And Drummer… He liked the hair dye smell, so he’d be all over her whenever she used it, and Dani could pretend to herself that he thought she looked awesome. Taking Dino’s hand once it was held out to her, she held it above her head and let her keep turning her, unable not to grin like an idiot at the other girl’s reaction. “You’re ridiculous,” she laughed, finally letting go and standing still. If she kept spinning much longer, she’d be dizzy. “It was already smurf hair, it was just fading, that’s all.” Turning to the mirror, Dani tossed her brush down onto the bed, admiring her new electric blue. It was about damn time she got it back to this. “You know you would’ve still been totally attracted to me if I’d gone with, like, green or something,” she smirked, looking over at the other girl, and then back to her reflection again. “Thank you, though. If I’d done it myself, I would’ve gotten it everywhere. How’s your tat doing, by the way? Did the gloves anger it or anything?”

DINO slid behind Dani in front of the mirror and hugged the other girl from behind for a few moments, before doing a little dance behind her instead. "You'd look hott with green hair, like i could see your rocking the whole god damn rainbow better than anyone before you." Of course Dani would look hot doing, wearing, or saying literally anything as far as Dino was concerned. Bumping her hip with Dani's, the purple haired hyper mess continued to dance around her. It's possible people don't credit Dino enough for the sheer amount of energy she usually has. People just assume all the weed makes her slow. Spoiler alert! It really does not. At the mention of her tattoo she looked at it fondly, before gently running a finger over it. Felt a bit dry, so she jacked some fragrance free lotion. "Nah it's good and it looks fucking amazing. Seriously, like always you hooked my shit up, oh shit man we gotta take a picture." She exlaimed before pulling her phone out. Holding it out, she kissed Dani's cheek before quickly snapping a photo to post in her life album. An album that was gradually just turning into her and Dani and Drummer.

DANI would’ve thought too deeply into this kind of behavior from anybody else, but not when it was Dino. They’d always been a little too close. How many platonic best friends made out whenever they felt like it? She liked the way she and Dino acted, though. Thinking about it, it probably hadn’t been a good thing for their past relationships, but they were in the past for a reason, so whatever. She was just going to take comfort in the taller girl’s arms around her, smiling as she looked over her shoulder at her. She barely even noticed that Dino had broken out into dance, since it really was nothing new for her, so Dani just went about her business, using her fingers to try tame her wet hair. Dani had more energy than the normal person, but Dino had her beat by a landslide, and she felt like she was getting whiplash between watching the other girl reach for her phone, kiss her, then take a picture. Dani barely even had the time to smile for the camera, so she would be interested in seeing how that turned out. “I’m glad you like it. I was pretty dang proud of it,” she smirked, about to ask to see the picture, though her phone beeped with a notification from the new app she’d downloaded. She glanced over at it on the dresser, then picked it up as it beeped again, smiling at the message from asingingsister, before absentmindedly walking over to her bed to perch on the edge of it and begin to type out a reply.

DINO fucking loved how open and genuine her connection with Dani was. Truthfully it was something she'd never felt with another person. Not even Rae and that was saying a lot, since she was pretty sure she'd been in love with her. Of course after all of that Dino had pretty much said fuck it to relationships. Of course, Dani had been there for all of that, had seen the crazy that she became and somehow managed to be the only person, with the exception of her sisters, that could get her to chill the actual fuck out. Everything about their dynamic was easy, and carefree, it was everything Dino didn't realize she was looking for. Hearing the notification ping from Dani's phone, she stopped dancing as her friend left her side to read whatever message she got. Pouting from the loss of attention, she leaned against the dresser and crossed her arms over her chest. "What was that?" She asked, pushing off and standing closer to Dani.

DANI wasn’t looking for a relationship, even when she’d downloaded the app. After she and Jasmine had broken up, she was kind of done with dating, at least for now. It was evident that she just wasn’t good girlfriend material, so she hadn’t signed up to meet someone, at least not for more than a casual hookup. She wasn’t about to say that to the girl she’d been matched up with, though. She seemed chill, so Dani could handle talking to her. “Hm?” she asked, glancing up from her phone to the other girl, then shrugging once she realized what she was talking about. “Oh, this? It’s this new app.” Dani read out the information up top of the chat box, like she was reading something super official. “GirlPower, the number one free to use dating app for women seeking women.” She smirked, going back to typing out her reply. “I’m not a dating app kind of girl, but I figured why not, right? It’s pretty cool.” Dani wasn’t paying attention to Dino as she finished what she had to say to whoever this girl was that she’d connected with, but she’d seen the pout before. She wasn’t sure why she liked it, but she could ignore that for now.

DINO couldn't explain why, but hearing her Dani was chatting with some girl on a dating app, just wasn't sitting right with her. It wasn't helping that Dani was just talking away not even looking at her, this was 100% an unacceptable way to treat an attention whore of a friend. So, Dino was going to rectify the situation. Walking over, she moved the phone from in front of Dani's face and sat right on her lap. Throwing an arm around the other girl, Dino wiggled to settle, because she did not intend on moving to be quite honest. She'll be damned if she isn't Dani's favorite alright. Don't judge her too harshly. "Right right, but if you're not that kind of girl..." Dino said with a smile as she tried her fucking hardest to imitate that accent of hers, "...Then why are you bothering with it? Who is it anyway? Do you know her? Does she go here? Have you met her or anything?" It was a lot of questions but Dino needed to know because best friends were always suppose to know like everything about each other and in this moment Dino felt bummed she hadn't known. Which is ridiculous because she wasn't even that kind of person. She was a do you boo boo, kind of person. What the hell was happening to her?

DANI had just hit send on her message when the phone was moved from in front of her, and her brows furrowed for a second as she looked up at the other girl, who then positioned herself in her lap. Dani wasn’t about to fight it, and wrapped an arm around her waist, like it was just a natural action. She listened to Dino’s list of questions, playfully rolling her eyes when she mimicked her accent. Most people around here did that, given how thick it was, and it low-key annoyed her at this point, but not when Dino did it. All she could think was how cute her bad attempt was. She had to hold back her smirk as she sensed the jealousy that laced her best friend’s questions, and although Dani didn’t fully understand it, she liked it. She wouldn’t admit that, though. Setting her phone down on the bed, since it was clear Dino would be taking all of her attention for now, she wrapped her other arm around her, too, gently pulling her closer. “Why do you care so much?” she asked, genuinely curious about the answer. Dani shook her head, figuring she owed Dino her answers, too. “I don’t know her, and I haven’t met her. I haven’t even seen a picture. I just know her username and the fact that she writes music, that’s all. Outside of that, she’s just a girl on an app.”

DINO furrowed her brows as Dani answered, she felt a sense of relief wash over her, like she was happy about the answers, but she wasn't entirely sure why and Dino wasn't the kind of person who thought too much about that kind of shit, to be frank. Pleased to see the phone get pushed aside, Dino waggled her eyebrows like a dork and then just started laughing. An uncontrollable laughter that she could feel in her toes. It was completely possible the fumes from the hair dye had gotten to her. Wouldn't be the first time, in fact that pretty much always happened. She was intensely close to Dani now, she could feel the other girl's breath on hers, it was a comfortable position. That level of closeness with another human being was something Dino had always wanted and she'd been lucky enough to find it in a kick ass rainbow wielding Texan. Wither her free hand she moved some blue hair from Dani's neck before placing a soft kiss there. "I care because..." a kiss, "...you're my best friend." Another kiss. Moving so they were face to face, Dino smiled before placing a kiss on those familiar soft lips. "Happy pride!" She said pulling out a rainbow popper and letting it rain rainbow confetti over them.

DANI had learned to just let Dino do whatever she was doing and to not question it, so the crazy laugh just made Dani laugh, too. Not quite the same way, but still. It was more of an, Oh my God, you’re adorable laugh. Triplet or not, Dino really was one of a kind, and Dani couldn’t help but admire her as she looked up at her, her thumb brushing softly over her hip where her hands were resting. Silences between these two were always comfortable, even now, as they sat so closely. A small, natural smile eased onto Dani’s lips as she watched the other girl, tilting her head to the side a little as Dino leaned in. They were only small kisses, but Dani couldn’t help but bite her lip in response. “Oh. Got it,” she mumbled, with barely any time to look at her again before their lips were against one another’s, and Dani didn’t even have to think about kissing her back. It was just a natural reaction all over again. One that caused her heart to race a bit, but who was drawing attention to that? She didn’t speak as they parted from the kiss, simply watching what Dino was doing. She saw the popper, but still jumped as it popped, then laughed at her own reaction, as well as the fact that casually carrying a rainbow popper around with her was so Dino. “You’re insane, little lady,” she grinned, looking up at her as she brought one of her arms from around her waist to reach up and take ahold of her chin gently between her thumb and finger instead. Dani leaned up to almost connect their lips again, pulling Dino down to meet her halfway. “The best kind of insane, though,” she whispered, her lips brushing against the other girl’s, “My favorite kind.”

DINO almost snorted at seeing Dani's reaction to the popper, it was cute and hilarious, which are two adjectives she often mentally associated with Dani. Of course the cute never outweighed the badass, just complimented it. Kind of like how Dani's personality complimented Dino's. The calm to her chaos. Smiling into the kiss, Dino readjusted herself so she could straddle the other girl, letting a hand rest on her face and she could feel herself getting all kinds of into it. It was intoxicating, it always was, making out, hooking up, whatever, but with Dani it was like on another level. Like the perfect amount of drunk and high at the same time, that had you feeling like you were flying and yet completely grounded. It was paradoxical and fucking amazing, and Dino always wanted more. But they'd never done more than kiss, so she wanted to test the waters, see where Dani stood. Moving her hand from her face, she took one of her hands, briefly interlocking their fingers before placing it behind her back, under her loose crop top. Dino figured if Dani was into it, she'd feel the clasps of her bra and decide whether to unhook them or just have them keep making out. Dino wasn't going to complain about either.

DANI couldn’t tease right now even if she wanted to. With her lips so close to Dino’s, she had to close the gap between them, almost needing to feel the other girl’s kiss again. Dani tried not to think about what that meant, if it even meant anything, and figured she’d just enjoy this for what it was. Usually, whenever they made out, it’d be kind of a giggly, playful thing. It was always good, and Dani always secretly wanted a little more, but she always just put that down to getting too caught up in the moment. However, the opportunity for something more had never presented itself. Until now, it seemed. Their lips were still against one another’s, and Dani wasn’t about to question Dino taking her hand. She laced their fingers the same way the other girl had, her lips moving softly, and was hyper aware of how Dino was moving her hand. Even more so, when she felt where she was moving it to. It looked like the ball was in her court, and there were so many reasons why Dani should’ve just stopped, but she couldn’t really think of them right now. She did pause, though, but only to let her hand drop from where Dino had moved it to rest on her hip instead. Her other hand moved down to rest on the other hip, and with her lips still against the other girl’s, she slowly moved back on the bed, then turned to carefully lay Dino down, with Dani hovering over her. It took everything in her to break the kiss, but she eventually did, only to look down at the other girl, her heart beating a little harder. She was trying to think of those reasons why stopping was for the best, but yet again, she couldn’t. With that in mind, Dani leaned in to press her lips delicately to Dino’s neck, her hand moving down her body until she could start to move it under the material of her crop top. She hadn’t unhooked her bra, but she would soon. For now, she let her hand slide underneath it, softly cupping with her fingers. This was new, but Dani couldn’t bring herself to be too worried. Not right now, anyway.

DINO felt the most cliche levels of electricity in the air as Dani layed her down. She was turned on and surprised. Not surprised to be turned on, that wasn't even remotely surprising, Dani was beautiful and cool as fuck and her best god damn friend. That couldn't be a more perfect recipe for attraction if it was in a Martha Stewart cookbook. No, she was surprised by the emotions she was feeling. They were strong, they always were for her where sex was concerned, but this time there was this underlying heat to everything. Every touch, every kiss, every breath, it was hot, like literally hot. There was this feeling in her chest, like she was being jump started with every beat of her heart and it was intoxicating, addicting even and Dino liked it. Tilting her head to give the other woman better access, she felt her back arch as Dani's hand moved under her bra. "Fuck" she practically whispered. Running her nails down her back, she slipped her hands under Dani's shirt, relishing in the feel of her skin on her fingertips. Letting out a moan she bit down on her bottom lip, she could already feel her nipples getting hard and her pussy getting wet.

DANI hadn’t expected, when she’d asked her best friend to come over to dye her hair and bark at her dog, that this would be where they’d end up. She’d be lying if she said there weren’t times when she’d thought about being with Dino like this, but they’d always just been thoughts, and Dani had always shrugged them off, because people weren’t supposed to think about their best friends like that. They also weren’t supposed to act on those thoughts, but that apparently didn’t stop Dani from being on top of the other girl right now, her lips pressing to her neck, her teeth nipping the skin beneath them just gently. It didn’t stop her from brushing her thumb lightly over Dino’s nipple as she cupped her breast under her bra. It didn’t stop her heart from racing, or her breathing speeding up a little as she kissed her way from her neck and down to her chest. Her thumb kept delicately brushing over her nipple, which Dani could feel hardening under her touch, while he free hand moved to push the fabric of Dino’s crop top upwards once her lips had reached the bottom of it, with Dani pressing kisses softly to her skin.

DINO couldn't stop herself from moaning at the feel of lips making their way down her body. This wasn't what she was use to. Normally the people she was with wanted quick and dirty, or rough and kinky, they wanted the clothes off immediately, they wanted a fuck in the club bathroom, or to fullfill some kind of fantasy. They wanted sex, plain and simple. There was nothing else to it. Not really. A few times she and her partner might confuse sexual chemistry for romance or love but it never really was. Dino was perfectly fine with that. Sex was fun, it was healthy, it was good and she was very good at it. But right now, in this moment with Dani it didn't feel like that. There was a softness, a tenderness an emotional connection that she didn't generally bring into the bedroom. But Dani wasn't just some other person, she wasn't some hott chick or dude Dino fucked and then ended up friends. Dani was Dino's best friend, whom she'd shared intimacy with beyond the sexual for a while now. There was a strong foundation there, of trust and love and knowledge of each other. There was something... sweet about being with Dani in this way. Looking down her body she was met with bright blue and Dino smiled. The soft kisses tickling her skin, she let out a laugh, propping herself up on her elbows she felt so... lighthearted. "Shit, that tickles." She confessed with a smile still plaster to her face.

DANI wasn’t really sure what she was thinking. In fact, maybe she wasn’t thinking at all, because she shouldn’t have been doing this. Whatever she felt for Dino, however confusing it may have been, wasn’t something she was trying to complicate more. She was her best friend, and even if best friends didn’t look at each other the way they did, even if they didn’t kiss each other the way they did, that didn’t change that fact. Above everything else, Dino was her best friend, and the realization that this could completely fuck that up was what made her stop. Well, no, Dino’s giggle made her stop; snapped her out of her daze. She looked up at the other girl, the movement of her thumb stopping, too, and slowly moved her hand out from inside of her bra. Perhaps she should’ve felt uncomfortable right now, but she didn’t. The soft, natural smile on her lips was proof of that. “I’m sorry,” she laughed softly, moving back to sit up on the bed beside the other girl. Dani ran a hand through her still damp hair, shaking her head. “I don’t know what that was.”

DINO let out a whine at the loss of contact. Watching as her friend moved beside her sitting up a bit straighter, letting one of her hands trace lazy circles on the other girl's back. Looking her over, Dino kept her hand on Dani's back, not willing to break contact, not ready to. "That was you getting ready to..." she brought her free hand up using it as a mic. "...Sex me up." she sang in the tune of Color Me Badd's, I Wanna Sex You Up. "I wanted you too, I still want you too." Moving the electric blue hair from her face, Dino nuzzled into her neck for a moment, before whispering, "I'd really like to know what you taste like, Dani." she admitted before nipping at her earlobe. Pulling back, Dino let one if her hands rest on Dani's thigh. Probably higher up than she should have and she softly squeezed. "What're you thinking?"

DANI was partially mad at herself for stopping, but also partially because she was enjoying that a little too much. She shouldn’t have been so okay with touching Dino like that, and she shouldn’t like the feeling of her hands on her back, drawing lazy circles, quite as much as she did. Glancing down at her best friend, she couldn’t help but laugh at her response. That was typical Dino. Dani was having this internal battle with herself, while her best friend was just being as goofy and adorable as usual. Dani decided that if Dino wasn’t worried, she shouldn’t be, either. If the opportunity arose again, she wouldn’t stop it. It seemed that it was coming sooner than she’d expected, and Dani tilted her head just a little as the other girl moved her hair, goosebumps rising on her skin beneath her touch. The way she whispered in her ear, especially given what she was saying, was enough to cause that feeling to build again between her legs. For just a second, her gaze drifted down to the hand on her thigh, before she was looking back up at her face. Dani’s lips were curved into a half smile, and her voice a little softer, more raspy. “I’m thinking that I want that, too,” she admitted, placing her hand on top of the other girls and moving it higher up, kind of a silent way of giving her permission. If she was looking for it, she had it.

DINO smiled as her hand was moved even farther up Dani's thigh. Taking that as permission, she nudged Dani's legs apart, just enough for her to palm her crotch, applying pressure to aid in more pleasure. Licking her bottom lip, she sat up and moved between the other's girl's legs, forcing them to open more. Running her hands over Dani's thigh's she began pulling her closer. The anticipation was such a massive turn on, but Dino wanted to see more of Dani, so she started to lift her shirt up, smiling as she saw more skin, a belly button, the beginning of her bra. With that she kissed her, immediately running her tongue along her bottom lip, begging for entry. She could feel her hips moving, wanting to create that friction, even through the clothes. In this moment the only thing that matter was being as close to Dani as she could be. Close physically, emotionally, hell even spiritually. She wanted every one of her senses to be over-saturated by the woman beneath her.

DANI may not have seemed like she was into this before, but that definitely wasn’t it. She was hesitant, because she was worried about the consequences, which was so unlike her. Dani had been that girl who had been unapologetically herself from as far back as she could remember, and hadn’t cared when it had landed her in trouble. Evidently, she thought more highly of Dino than anybody else. It was hard to really worry too much with the other girl’s hand between her legs, though, pressing against her. Even through her clothes, it made Dani’s breath catch in her throat. Her legs parted to make room for Dino between them, and as much as she wanted to watch the look on her face as she exposed more of her body from under her shirt, the desire to kiss her was much greater. It seemed Dino had the same idea, since no sooner was Dani’s hand resting on the back of the other girl’s neck underneath her hair, was Dino leaning in to close the gap between them. This kiss was hungrier than the last, Dani pressing her lips a little more firmly to the other’s. Allowing Dino the access she was sure she wanted, Dani parted her lips a little, her hips rocking to press herself down more on the other girl’s hand. “More,” she mumbled against Dino’s lips, her fingers moving to tangle in the back of her hair, “I want more.”

DINO wasn't the kind of person who thought much before she did anything, or anyone. Instead she just understood what she wanted and she went for it, keeping it 100% authentic Dinora Lopez as she did. While she could already understand and even feel the difference between every other time she'd had sex and this time, she wasn't thinking it about it. It was fun, it was comfortable, it made her feel like a fucking superhero, how could she spare a single moment to potential consequences. How could she let her mind wander from the warmth of Dani's mouth or the enthusiasm of her hips to doubting how logical or rational this decision was. Dino was all heart all the time and every aorta, vein, valve and artery in her heart was pumping just to have this experience, this moment in time, with Dani Harper. All Dino could feel was how important, how special, how fucking awesome they were together. There was no room for logic, or doubt, or anxiety, because it was her and Dani. It felt like it was always suppose to be this, it just felt.... right. Breath heavy, she smiled as the beautiful girl below her asked for more. Excitedly, Dino sat back up as much as she could with Dani's hand on her neck, and moved both of her hands to the hem of Dani's shirt, pulling it up, she was ready for a whole lot more skin on skin. "Off off off." She chanted with a smile in reference to Dani's top.

DANI was over overanalyzing this by now, she was just going to take it for what it was and either deal with the consequences afterwards or not. Maybe it would just be so normal and natural for them that there was nothing to think about afterwards. It was just a hookup, after all, right? At least, that’s what she was going to tell herself. Any thoughts of whoever she was messaging on that dating app were long gone, and everything was Dino now. Dani took in the way her lips felt against her own, the way they curved into a smile when she asked for more. She had a feeling Dino wouldn’t need to be asked twice, and although she was disappointed by the loss of contact when the other girl pulled back, she smirked as she looked up at her, bringing her hand back from behind Dino’s neck and helping her get her out of her shirt. Dani would describe her body type as ‘works out sometimes, but also definitely enjoys pizza,’ and she had absolutely no issues with that. It didn’t make her feel nervous to be so exposed to her, in fact it was kind of a turn on, and she wanted to get Dino out of her clothes, too. First, though, she had to go back to kissing her, she just couldn’t resist those lips. Her hand rested on the back of the other girl’s neck again, her lips pressing against hers, but Dani used her free hand to reach up behind her own back, wasting no time in unclasping her bra. Dino had said she wanted it off, right? Dani was going to take that to mean all of it.

DINO was already a, less clothes the better, kind of person in general, but seeing Dani below her, topless and beautiful she wondered why anyone would ever cover up such a magnificent piece of art. She could compose an entire symphony in honor of every inch of Dani's skin. Smiling down at her best friend, Dino could feel the music swell inside of her. It was kind of her thing, mentally she could hear a musical composition piece itself together inside of her heard anytime she fucked anyone. Generally, it was fast and loose, it was loud and simplistic. Still beautiful and still worth the paper she'd transpose the notes on, but they never went much further than that. However, through the course of their moment, Dino heard a journey. There were fragments of lyrics mashed together with a classic rock band with orchestral interludes. It was simply a song or a piece, it was a soundtrack to a film that's not been made, it was an album in formation. It would be the first musical composition outside of EDM that Dino would be determined to bring to life. Maybe, all of that sounded intense, but as Dino and Dani finished their tumble in the sheets, purple hair a mess, smile beaming, heart pounding, breathing heavy and skin glistening with sweat, Dino latched to the other woman, still naked and she let the after glow radiate around her as she placed soft and sloppy kisses along Dani's chest, pulling her closer and closer still as if somehow she could manage to merge them into one. In her life Dino has made some questionable decisions, but this wasn't one of them.

DANI wasn’t sure what she’d expected of today, but fucking her best friend was totally not it. She also hadn’t expected to like it quite as much as she did, but there was something about doing this with Dino that just felt so right. Sex was generally a good time, but Dani could confidently say that this may have been the best time ever, because there was something more to it. She wasn’t sure what, just something. Something she was afraid to really think too deeply about, but as she tried to catch her breath, chest rising and falling faster than usual, she forced herself to not think about that. Dino was pressing kisses to her chest, and Dani’s fingers were still tangled up in her hair, coming down from the high that Dino had put her in. Her arm wrapped around the other girl’s neck as she pulled her closer. She’d been enjoying the kisses to her skin, but she needed to feel Dino’s lips on her own again. Her hand moved from her best friend’s purple hair to slip around to her cheek, her fingertips brushing gently against the soft skin they found there. She’d kissed her the moment she’d realized she’d needed that contact again, but now pulled back just a little to look at her, her fingers still moving against her cheek. “That was… different,” she laughed softly, nudging her nose against the other girl’s, “Good different. Like we should’ve done it before.”

DINO leaned in to every kiss and every touch, like it was second nature. Like it was something they’d always done. Like it wasn’t the first time they’d ever boinked. It just felt right, there had been no new partner awkwardness or awkward silences, there was no weird should I stay or go after the fact. It was comfortable, lying there with Dani, naked and warm and smiling. At Dani’s confession, Dino laughed along with her, “We should definitely do it again.” she commented with a smile. Dino waggled her eyebrows, before going in for another kiss. Quite frankly, it was something she could get use to..

[sweetnestor]

Story of Another Us | Week 11

university au, platonic af, now on ao3!

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist

My heart is here, it’s such a cause

I didn’t expect a phone call, text message, or any interaction from Mark. I probably should have been the one to go to him. Apologize for being stupid and getting too close to his friend. However, given from the silence between us since that night, I figured that he wanted me to stay away. I wasn’t even sure if I could still call him my boyfriend, and that terrified me. I desperately wanted to talk to him, but he was angry with me and I couldn’t really blame him.

This silence only forced me and Jack to carry on as usual. We went to class together that morning, earlier than usual since we decided it was best not to go back to Mark’s while he was in this mood. This left me with no time to dress presentably or do any makeup, and Jack had to call his girlfriend and rely on her to get his videos uploaded. Not to mention, the car ride from my apartment all the way to YTU was much longer than if we had gone from Mark’s house.

Speaking of YTU, campus was even more empty these days. There were only about six weeks left in the semester. Six weeks until the place closed down for good. There was really no point in coming anymore, according to the students who lived in the area. I, on the other hand, needed to get my money’s worth from these fucking classes, and so did Jack.

“You feel like meeting people?” he asked, pointing out the small group of people standing around the entrance to the main parking lot.

The one day I didn’t put on makeup. I drove past the group and parked somewhat far from the main office. I thought about it as we got out of the car, but I didn’t have much choice. The group had followed my car to where we parked.

Technically, we weren’t supposed to meet fans here, but Jack was more than happy to break the rules since “there’s no one here to tell us we can’t!” Plus, campus was closing down anyway, so fuck it.

“You’re Bella Santiago, right?” one girl asked me, which was surprising. I thought they were here for Jack. “Can I get a selfie? I really love your videos!”

It happened very quickly. I smiled for the picture, the girl thanked me and went to get a picture with Jack. Another person came up to me, smiling wide.

“Your anxiety video made me cry! It was so touching!” she told me.

“Aw, thank you!” I replied, instantly a lot happier. “That means a lot!”

A sudden wave of praise came from the group, all of them saying that the video was really good. It made me feel warm and pleasant. So maybe I wasn’t so depressing after all. I was expecting to be brushed off, especially since most of the group seemed to know Jack. But they were all really kind.

However, it didn’t last long. A campus security guard whisked us away, and practically yelled at the group to get off property. Jack and I pretty much had no choice but to follow him inside the main office.

“You guys are not allowed to interact with fans, you know that, right?” he told us sternly. “You’re only going to attract more people here.”

“Well, it’s not like we asked them to come over here,” I said back. “The place is closing anyway, why does it matter?”

Jack gave me an incredulous look as we walked through the main office. It wasn’t exactly typical of me to talk back, and he had never seen me be this way before.

“I’m just doing my job, Miss,” the guard told me before walking off.

I rolled my eyes and went out to the courtyard. That’s when Jack finally spoke.

“I’ve never heard you talk like that before,” he said. “You sounded really… ballsy.”

I chuckled. “I guess when it comes to the people who watch my videos, I take no shit.”

“That’s good. Really bold of you.”

It wasn’t until we got to class that we both tweeted out apologies to the people we met in the parking lot. I had to refrain from ranting publicly. Instead, I focused on what it was like to meet those people. In my time of have a sizeable following, I was noticed seldomly. It wasn’t until I was associated with Mark did it start happening more. You would think being approached by random people would make my anxiety spike…

Instead, it just made me tired and irritable. By the time we got home from class, I was looking forward to a ten year nap. Jack was still peppy and perky and talking off my last nerves. However, being the avoidant little shit I was, I just let him be. Listening to him also meant I could avoid checking my phone for any interaction from Mark. I really didn’t want to be the one to start that conversation.

“So, are we going to record today?” That was the only thing I caught from his long ramble.

I thought about it. “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah!”

We were supposed to make a video for my channel today. I had to do that today. Despite everything, this had to be done. I couldn’t be a stick in the mud.

“Okay,” I said, my eyes trailing up to Jack’s hair. “How overdue are you for dying your hair?”

He ran his fingers through the faded green locks in thought. I could see his brown roots peeking out and I almost audibly gasped. I had to get my hands on them.

“You wanna do that for a video?” he asked.

“Is it a bad idea? We could do something else…”

“No, no it’s your channel, you hold all the cards here.”

~

“Hey guys, it’s Bella!” I greeted happily to the camera set up in the living room. “Today I’m here with my friend Jack, and I’m gonna dye his hair and bleach his roots.”

Jack was sitting in a chair in front of me, a towel over himself. His hair was slightly all over the place, given that I was touching it and messing with it earlier to see what exactly I needed to do for this look. He was pretty pleased about this, given that I wasn’t going to charge him for doing this for him. He needed a new coat of green hair, and I needed a new video to post. It’s a win-win.

“So, this is partly a tutorial and partly two friends hanging out,” I explained.

“Twice the fun,” Jack said in a mock happy tone.

“Let’s get started!”

I mixed the bleach in a plastic bowl with a brush and explained how to do so before applying it to Jack’s roots. I also read off the box just to make sure I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “‘Do not use if you are not a licensed cosmetologist.’ Oops!”

“You’re not licensed?” Jack asked in mock surprised. “You’re a fraud!”

“Whoops, you caught me!”

“No, but really, didn’t you go to beauty school?”

“I did, but I never finished it because of YTU. So technically, I shouldn’t be allowed near these products.”

I continued applying the bleach, surprisingly at ease. Hair knowledge was right underneath my makeup knowledge, and it was fun getting my hands on some hair again. Although, since it was only the top of Jack’s head that needed the fix, the first step was done a lot quicker than expected.

“Somehow I forgot that you don’t have that much hair to bleach and dye,” I pointed out. “How much time do you usually spend in a salon?”

“Oh god, like two hours,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “It takes forever!”

“Dude, my hair takes at least four or five hours,” I told him, pointing to my long, black and pink ombre. “You’re lucky!”

“How can you be so patient? I go crazy just sitting in the chair!”

“It’s fun for me.” I smiled.

The next step after washing off the bleach was the color. I chose a vibrant green that wasn’t too off from previous shades that Jack has had before. For me, this was the easiest part.

“With bleach, you have to be careful not to leave it on for too long,” I explained, “especially with darker hair because it’s very easy to damage it a lot. So you have to constantly keep an eye on it and see how quickly the hair catches onto it. With the actual color, you just have to apply it and wait it out. Usually the formula will have some type of vitamins and stuff that’s good for the hair. But it’s still a good idea to get some hydrating conditioners and other hair products on the side.”

“See, I wish my hairdresser in Ireland had told me this,” Jack said. “Everything makes a lot more sense now!”

Once we finished and cleaned everything up, Jack had wonderful, bright green hair. I was relieved I hadn’t lost my hair styling skills over time. As soon as the camera turned off, I pretty much hid away in my bedroom, the depression returning. I crawled into bed and sighed in relief. I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and gloominess for some reason. It was like I drained the last of my energy in that video.

I scrolled on my phone, looking at the pictures that were posted from the impromptu meetup earlier. I looked awful without my makeup. How could people see me as a beauty guru? How could I go outside looking like that?

So much for finding comfort on Twitter… I went to Tumblr instead, and I had to resist making a long, rambly post. Then I realized that no one would want to see a wall of text clog up their dash. I just looked at my feed, reblogging pictures of makeup I already owned, liking posts people mentioned me in. There were cute edits and gifsets of me and Mark, which only made my heart ache.

I wasn’t sure why I got so angry with him. Maybe I did get too close to Jack. Maybe I had done things that gave off the wrong idea. Or maybe I just wasn’t attracted to Mark and that’s why I didn’t want to get into bed with him. Maybe I was just faking my anxiety this whole time.

~

It felt like time was going slow, or not moving at all. I wasn’t sure if I had fallen asleep or gotten up at all. I could only tell time by the sound of Jack’s voice outside my door. He was recording his own videos and acting like everything was okay. I wish I knew how to act like that off camera.

I started feeling restless and antsy when his voice finally stopped. A constant background noise was something I needed, otherwise I’d go crazy. I rolled onto my side, listening for any kind of sound to break the silence. No footsteps, movements, or anything from the TV did that. It was like Jack had disappeared. Wouldn’t blame him.

Honestly, though, I still didn’t want to interact with anyone. I just liked hearing someone else in the apartment. I went to take a shower. Any sound from there would block out the ongoing gloom in my head.

I pretty much just sat there. Actual hygiene wasn’t important to me at the moment. The water was hitting my scalp and, while it was deteriorating the black and pink dye in my hair, it felt good. It gave me a sense of feeling again. Like a breath of fresh air, except it was water. I coughed and choked. It was better than not feeling anything.

When I was out of the shower and getting dressed, I heard noise within the apartment. I heard voices. Angry voices. Maybe I really did go crazy. Although, the mere thought did make me leave my room to actually make sure that wasn’t true.

I found Jack and Mark standing in the living room. They went quiet as soon as I showed up. The air was tense, making my stomach flip over. To be honest, I didn’t expect Mark to show up so soon.

“You still let him stay here?” he asked me in disbelief.

Yes I did, and I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry for being a terrible girlfriend, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

Those words were rising up my throat, ready to be puked out. I was fighting with myself not to speak those words. I couldn’t apologize for letting my friend live here.

“It was me,” Jack spoke up. “I asked if I could still stay here. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how bad the situation was.”

“You’re telling me,” Mark began, not sounding any less angry, “that even after I told you how uncomfortable I was with you living with my girlfriend, you still had the nerve to ask her if you could still keep living here?”

Jack gulped, clearly intimidated. “Yes.”

“What kind of friend are you?”

“Oh my god!” I snapped, my body trembling with nerves. I couldn’t control my mouth. “You’re the one who made him stay here in the first place! You’re the one who pushed us to be friends! You’re the one who felt enough pity for me to fly your friend out here and talk to me because I can’t do that on my own! ¿Y sabes que? You don’t get to be angry that Jack and I are friends now! You don’t get to be angry because he’s here for me more than you are, that’s on you! So don’t come crying over here quejando y quejando because you’re the one who made all this happen in the first place!”

I was breathing heavily and my chest was hurting. Mark and Jack had their mouths open in shock. When have they ever heard me speak this way? I didn’t think I could speak this way either.

Thankfully, the silence didn’t last long. Mark sighed and nodded to my open bedroom door. “Room.”

Still fuming, I turned on my heel and went to my room, Mark quickly following my trail. Before I shut the door, I saw Jack quickly scurry over to his room to hide. Lucky him, he gets to sit this one out.

“What do you mean he’s here for you more?” Mark asked, breathing like he was trying to keep himself steady. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly that, you’re never here,” I told him. “And you asked Jack to move here, without so much as giving me a heads up!”

“I didn’t ask him, I told him that you had an extra room, and you were happy to let him stay!” Mark justified.

“Because you put me on the spot! That doesn’t matter now anyway, I’m actually glad he’s my roommate, because as I said, he’s my friend and he’s there for me!”

“Stop saying that!” Mark nearly yelled, making me flinch. However, he took a step back and lowered his tone. “I’m sorry. I���m sorry if you feel like I’ve been neglecting you. I have been busy, I’ve been going to meetings and making videos, and this tour thing. I do all of this while you’re on campus, and I try to get things done, I do. Aside from that, I’ve got Matt and Ryan, and it’s like I’m raising kids! I’m not trying to use that as an excuse either, but I am sorry I can’t always be here. It’s not fair to you.”

Time management was something we had established when we first started dating. For some reason, I didn’t think it was going to be this hard. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. This was all part of the vlogger dating experience, after all.

“So you’re not avoiding me?” I asked.

“Of course not.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were, I know I’m a handful.”

“Don’t say that, Bella. I know things are hard right now, but I will make a better effort to be with you.”

I paced around the room to avoid looking at him. “Okay… so, what about Jack?”

Mark shrugged. “What about him?”

“Am I not allowed to be friends with him anymore? He’s the only friend I’ve got.” I hated saying that, it just emphasized my patheticness.

It felt worse when Mark hesitated. “I don’t know. Do you really not have anyone else?”

“No…” I said softly. “No, and it sucks. I only have you and him, two whole people. And I know I should try to talk to more people, but god you have no idea how hard it is!”

“I know. You deserve to have friends, even if it’s only one or two. I’m sorry I made a big deal out of you and Jack. I just want you to trust me,” Mark confessed. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for you, and I’m sorry if I made it harder. Just know that I am here for you, whenever you need me. I promise.”

That’s a big word that adds more pressure. But who was I to deny him? Words could only do so much, but god I couldn’t go down to have only one friend. Especially if that friend wasn’t going to stay here permanently.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine…”

“Okay.” Mark sighed.

Don’t lose this one. He’s all you’ve got. You lose him, you lose everything...

_______

next chapter

[sunfloooooower]

Mended. Chapter 14.

Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5| Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8| Chapter 9| Chapter 10| Chapter 11| Chapter 12| Chapter 13|

Hi, I really want to dye my hair pink, but I’m too afraid so I’m living vicariously through Ari. 

...

Ari’s point of view

I thought about calling in to work the next morning but realized that was ridiculous. My eyes were burning when I woke up and my mouth was so dry my tongue felt like sandpaper. I forced myself to get up and pull myself together, hiding all the proof that I had a breakdown last night with makeup. As I was doing my hair, I had the sudden epiphany that it was too boring. I wanted to do something drastic and that meant changing my hair somehow because I was too young to get a piercing or a tattoo by myself, but I could buy hair dye.

I didn’t have to be at work until two this afternoon, giving me more than enough time to run to the drug store. I pulled on a pair of sandals and ran downstairs, grabbing an apple before getting in my car. I drove to the nearest city and found a Sally’s, grabbing a box of pastel pink hair dye. I was about to do something drastic and a surge of excitement coursed through me.

When I got back home, I found Freddie sitting at the bar in our kitchen and mom painting the walls. I said hi to both of them before running upstairs to my room. I changed into an old t-shirt and went into my bathroom, reading the instructions on the box. I applied the dye as it said and went to my room to wait it out, killing time before I had to wash it out.

The alarm I set on my phone went off and I hurried back into the bathroom. I got in the shower and watched the pink go down the drain as I washed it. When the water finally ran clear, I washed my body and got back out. I pulled on my work shirt before going to dry it; the color was so freakin’ pretty! I loved it and was so happy I did it!

I did my full makeup and curled my hair, giggling every time I saw the color. I was never this person, I never made spontaneous decisions; I always thought everything out. It felt really nice to not have to worry over it, just jump in and hope I float. It was also a really good distraction.

My mom did a double take when I walked downstairs. “Oh, that color looks good. It’s not the one you had last night, but it’s a good look. Are you feeling any better?”

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I didn't want to be blond anymore, I wanted to be something different. And I haven’t really thought about the situation since I dyed my hair, and I don’t really want to right now. I’ll deal with it when I get to work and she’s there.”

She hugged me and wished me luck before sending me out into the world. My mother was always so cool about stuff like this, she never made it a big deal. The hair dye was permanent, but that didn’t mean it would be this color forever. I knew kids in school who had a different hair color every week, it faded and your natural hair made a reappearance. This would hopefully last as long as I felt the way I did and then fade when I was over it.

I sat in the parking lot staring at her car for almost five full minutes, trying to force myself to go inside. When I realized I was going to be late if I didn’t leave now, I got out and marched into the building. I wasn’t my usually bubbly self, I kept my head down and did what I was supposed it. I was on snack bar today so I filled popcorn, handed out candy, and made drinks robotically. It was crazy that just seeing her car made my mood shift so drastically, but I guess it made things real again.

Maybe I’d jumped to conclusions last night, I didn’t even really give her time to explain things. My feelings were hurt that she’d lied to me and I closed myself off immediately. Then again, she did promise to never lie to me or hurt me like Delia did. I was so in my head, I didn’t even notice her come in and let Mandi take her break.

“Hi,” she said, and I could feel her eyes on me. “I really like your hair.”

I reached up and touched it self-consciously. “Oh, thanks. I did it this morning before work.”

We went back to our jobs without talking and it was suffocating. I felt like I couldn’t get enough air, but I refused to have a panic attack in the middle of shoveling popcorn. I needed to get ahold of myself, this was getting ridiculous. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw my break was in fifteen minutes, I could hold myself together until five o’clock.

“Hey, when’s your break?” I asked Audrey during a lull in customers. “I want to talk to you about last night.”

“It’s a five, we have the same shift today,” she replied, her voice devoid of all emotions.

Audrey didn’t like emotions, she was trying her best to completely ignore anything she was feeling. I knew how she was, but it still made my stomach fall to my knees. It felt like she wasn’t even going to fight for our relationship, she was just going to let me break it off. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted her to fight for me.

“You could at least act like you’re hurt, you know?” I whispered to her as I loaded a large popcorn container. “I’m not doing this for kicks, my heart is actually pretty fucking broken right now and you don’t even seem to care.”

She blew a breath through her nose before flashing her eyes over to me. “Are you serious? You walk away from me and then tell me I’m not feeling the way I should. You broke your own heart, Ari, and then refused to let me fix it.”

We were still talking in hushed whispers, but it felt like she was yelling. “Don’t make it seem like this is my fault! You’re the one who messed up.”

“Ladies, maybe you should take your break now,” Rob said, coming behind the counter to the two of us. “Preferably outside where customers can’t hear you.”

“Gladly,” Audrey spat, tearing off her apron and stalking away from the snack bar.

I took a deep breath and took off my apron, handing it to the girl relieving me and headed out to my car. Audrey was already leaning against the side of it, waiting for me. I unlocked the doors and the two of us got in, neither of us wanting to break the silence.

“Are you serious? You couldn’t stop yelling at me inside, but you don’t have a word to say now? That’s great, wonderful really,” I told her, a snarky laugh leaving my lips as I glared out the windshield.

“What do you want me to say, Ari? It seems like you’ve already made up your mind about me,” she replied, tossing her hands in the air. “I really like you and want to be with you, but you never let me explain myself.”

“I’m right here with thirty minutes free,” I told her, turning my body until it was facing hers with my arms crossed over my chest.

“I told you I was lonely, but it was so much more than that. Emma and I were best friends for our entire lives, she was who helped me get through my mother dying and my dad’s meltdown after it happened. Then, out of the blue, she started dating Will Belmont, a popular guy who played basketball. She became friends with all his friends who hated me, so even when she invited me to hang out with them I said no,” she explained, her eyes never leaving mine. “Then the murders started happening as soon Piper came to town, but I didn’t make the connection because I didn’t want to. I ended up reconnecting with Emma and brought Noah along, things started to feel like they used to. Then Rachel died and I felt alone again.

“If it wasn’t for Emma and Noah, I don’t know what would have happened. Then Will died and Emma felt the way I did, but we had each other to lean on,” she continued. “I swear I didn't know Piper was the one killing everyone, if I would have known, I would’ve done something.”

That was a lot to take in, but it all made sense. She was heartbreakingly lonely and I knew what that felt like. Even if I had my mom and Freddie, I felt totally by myself after Delia and I broke up. I was starting to see things like she did and guilt settled on my chest.

“I’m sorry I didn't let you explain yourself,” I told her lamely. “I’m just afraid of getting hurt again so I’m really fast to jump the gun in relationships and end them. Sort of like breaking their heart before they can break mine, even if that’s demented.”

Her hand found mine and she brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the top of it reassuringly. “I’m not done, I haven’t told you the worst part yet. I hope you’re still as understanding and forgiving.”

I nodded and held her hand tighter, hopefully reassuring her that I was going to be here. I also hoped I was still going to be here after what she said. I really liked her, too, and didn’t want to break up. No matter what I told her in the heat of the moment last night.

“Piper tried to kill Emma and I was there and ended up shooting her,” she told me. “We thought everything was going to go back to normal after that, but the killings kept happening. We had another friend named Jake, he was Brooke’s boyfriend, and he was killed. The person who did it lured me into a storage container where I found his body with different screenshots of the texts I’d sent to Piper pinned to him.

“I freaked and started taking the screenshots off, hoping no one else had seen them because I was still trying so hard to keep everything a secret. I should’ve known there’d be a camera or something like that in the building, but I didn’t until the killer sent me a GIF of me taking them,” she said. “So, I ended up telling Noah what I’d done and everyone found out. For a while it was terrible and they all hated me, but eventually things worked out and we found out the other killer was actually Emma’s boyfriend.”

My heart hurt for her, she really was just continuously in the wrong place at the wrong time. I released her hand and levered my seat back as far as it would go before gesturing to her to come over. She crossed the console with only minor awkwardness and placed herself on my lap so I could wrap my arms around her middle. One of her hands held the side of my neck with her thumb rubbing over the base of my jaw affectionately.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, leaning forward and pressing my forehead against hers. “I am so sorry.”

She shook her head and I saw her eyes slide closed, her breathing slowed and she hummed in happiness. “It’s not your fault, I did lie to you. I swear I didn’t do it to hurt you, I just didn’t know how to tell you all of that without scaring you away.”

“I get that, but I want you to know you can tell me anything,” I replied, leaning forward and brushing my nose against hers affectionately. “I’m not going anywhere as long as you’re honest with me. You’d be amazed at what I can handle.”

To prove my point, I moved my arms from around her waist so my hands could squeeze her ass. She let out a surprised squeak that made me laugh, my head falling back against the car seat.

“You are so damn cute,” I sighed, looking at her happily. “Even if you think it’s going to hurt me, I want you to tell me the truth and I promise to do the same.”

She didn’t say anything, she just nodded her head before tilting it and pressing her lips to mine. It was a small kiss, nothing serious or intense, just sweet and content.

The weight on my chest lifted as her fingers delicately traced the lines on my face. We still had about fifteen minutes, and we were going to spend it exactly like this.

[loveoncearedhead-blog]

An Open Letter to My Sexual Harasser

An open letter to my sexual harasser:

When we met, I was twenty four years old.  My hair was red-- red like the leaves in autumn.  I had dyed my hair that vibrant color since I was eighteen.  It was a source of confidence for me.  I was new to the industry, and my naivety to the field and my age left me unconfident.  You arrived two months later, experienced, attractive, and overconfident.  You were made my superior.  

In the beginning, the comments were almost harmless.  You presented them as jokes, and while my feminist side objected, the other side of me told me not to take things so seriously.  You joked to my coworkers that I was “yours”.  You almost on a daily basis commented on my physical appearance.  In the beginning, everything was almost superficial.  

While months passed, these comments persisted, and the perverseness of your discussions deepened.  You often told me about how your wife did not engage in sex with you, and that when you initiated sexual activities with her, she handed you an iPad and told you to “shake your monkey” and watch porn.  Now, while I do commend you two for creating such a unique term, there was nothing appropriate about this.  And in these moments, I always remained silent.  What was to say when you were my superior and I was your subordinate?  I lived paycheck to paycheck, and was afraid any objection to these comments would compromise whatever stability to living I had.  Later you replayed this same conversation several times, but added that your wife was so focused on her career that she allowed you to have an open relationship.  

After some time with the company, I longed for more.  You made promises of a promotion.  The idea of the promotion brought me the sanctuary of financial security.  While the comments made were worsened.  You started telling my coworkers that it drove you crazy when I re-dyed my hair and it was a more vibrant red.  You told them that redheads give the best head.  I came into work one day and a co-worker approached me asking me if she could tell me a secret.  She told me that you had asked another co-worker if it would be weird if you asked me out on a date.  

The holidays approached, and the company participated in “Secret Santa”.  You were my “Secret Santa”.  You pulled me into your office, and admitted the position you were in, and asked what I wanted.  I just requested a sweater for my male dog that says “Bitches Love Me”.  You purchased it, and suggested another larger gift and offered to buy me a beer.  I felt like I couldn’t say no to my superior as I did not know what consequences would pursue.  That evening we went to the store, and you purchased me a new vape (I had recently quit smoking), and bought me a beer at the mexican bar next door.  You had demonstrated at a previous holiday party that you like to flaunt your money, so I saw these purchase no more than that.  However, you had other intentions.  Over the drink, I made a remark about feminism, and you said “I have the utmost respective for women… my sister is a strong woman”.  I ask you, how do you reconcile all the things you have said about/towards women with this belief?  You have demonstrated that this is just something you say… perhaps believe, but absolutely, do not act upon.  You inquired about my dating relationship, and made specific remarks as he was the same race as you.  (Thankfully) the drinks ended abruptly as you were preoccupied by something else.  

Although for months you promised me a promotion internally, you approached me with a job offer that required relocation.  It offered me a 66% increase in pay.  I struggled with the decision… leaving my family after a significant loss and the news of being a future aunt.  I debated this situation heavily.  I was sad to lose the proximity to my family, but I was intrigued by the possibility of financial stability.  Thankfully, before I made a decision, IT started to happen.  

You made a pass at another coworker, and it wasn’t just another pass, it was significant enough to get the ball rolling against you.  You offered to financially help her out with her college education in exchange for sexual favors.  She spoke up, and for once, I didn’t feel alone.  She approached management, and management approached me.  I opened up, and I am so grateful that I had direct management that supported me.  The company lawyer approached me, and I told her everything.  In retrospect, I would have gotten my own lawyer, but when you’re naive, these are the things you do.  I felt like we were doing something, and I was grateful someone was listening.  

I was told you would never be allowed in the building ever again.  That I would never see you again.  However, you showed up in the building eight times uninvited.  Every time I felt like my safety was in danger.  I had seen your anger.  With your office door was close, I had heard your angered screams echoing down the hallway, so loud that it had caught the attention of our customers.  I’ve had experience with angry men, and I know what I can expect.  Even though you were not allowed in the building, I know you could track the company car, and I know you have fucked with my accounts.  

Rumor got out.  Your reputation got ruined.  You blamed me.  I know that you know where I live based on GPS tracking and the company car being parked at my house.  For a month straight, I slept with a knife at my night stand.  Some call me paranoid, but I know anger.  I had car problems, and my dad bought me a gas cap that could be only unlocked with a key.  I am paranoid, and I feel justified, and my loved ones are too.  

Some may ask why I didn’t say anything sooner.  For one, I thought people would tell me that I was overreacting (in the same way that when being street harassed people tell me I should be flattered).  Second, I thought you held the key to freedom of financial struggle… if I just put up with these statements, I could make more money and worry less about bills.  Third of all, I thought no one would believe me.  

I dyed my hair black.  I tried to eradicate any beliefs towards me for being a redhead.   I thought I could wash away all the perverse things you said about redheads.  Now the black is fading, and the red it peeking through.  I’ve purchased blue hair dye-- the opposite of red.  I will do anything to try to erase the memory of you in my life.  

Sincerely,

One of the women you harassed.