#i had to let it go before i went crosseyed

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance for @praetorqueenreyna

Chapter 3 of (who knows at this point)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Tamlin and Lucien have latkes and begin to reconnect

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

The snow was falling more thickly now, and Tamlin was beginning to regret his decision to let Jurian take the SUV. Lucien said he didn’t mind walking, though, so Tamlin turned up his collar and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, silently cursing his boss all the while.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he had hissed the moment they were alone at the table. Vassa had just excused herself to go the ladies’ room, and Lucien was still on the phone somewhere behind the bar, though he could be back at any minute. “We’re supposed to be undercover, remember?”

Jurian’s dopey, lovesick smile hardened into his usual scowl. “I’m off-duty.”

“Oh, that makes it okay, then,” Tamlin said sarcastically, then lowered his voice when he noticed other people looking. “What happens when you wake up tomorrow and realize you’ve taken your work home with you?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It’s not?”

“No, because tomorrow is Sunday,” he said, then winked.

If Jurian was expecting him to crack a smile, he was sorely mistaken. When Tamlin continued to glare, Jurian’s roguish demeanor crumbled into that of a desperate man.

“Come on, kid, let me have this,” he begged. “No offense, but pretty boy is really not my type.”

Tamlin’s face grew hot.

“I haven’t scored with a woman in years. Ever since Miryam left, I…” Jurian sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “If you tell me to back off, I will,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to be friendly like you said, and it got outta hand. I’m sorry.”

Tamlin sighed, too. He didn’t want to ruin anyone’s night, and, besides, Jurian wasn’t doing anything illegal, even if it was distasteful. “Just… be careful with her,” he cautioned quietly. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

“Kid, when you get to be my age, you want someone to hurt you once in a while,” Jurian said. When Tamlin looked at him askance, Jurian chuckled and spread his hands wide. “Just take my word for it.” He let out a deep, surprisingly wistful sigh, then rested his head on his hand. “How did a pretty little thing like her get tangled up in Koschei’s web?”

Tamlin shifted in his chair and glanced around. When it appeared they hadn’t been overheard, he leaned in and asked in a low voice, “Do you think she’s in trouble?”

“Let’s just say I don’t think Koschei wants to offer her a modeling contract from those headshots he asked for.”

Tamlin guiltily rubbed the back of his neck and winced. “What are we going to do?”

“‘We’? I don’t know about you, but I’m off the clock. I’m taking the lady to dinner. Maybe dancing. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Tamlin looked at him askance. “Are we still talking about the case?”

Jurian smirked. “I don’t know. Are we?”

Tamlin let out a noise of disgust, then straightened in his chair. “Wait a second. Did you say dancing?” When Jurian nodded, he asked. “What about Swan Lake? This is Vassa’s Christmas gift from Lucien, remember?”

Jurian grimaced. “Yeah… I don’t think we’re invited, kid.”

Tamlin blinked. “But… But Lucien said—”

“‘Put it on my tab’,” Jurian quoted dryly, spreading his hands. “Put it on Daddy’s tab. Daddy ‘Robber Baron’ Vanserra himself. I’ve been around the block a time or two, and something tells me that your little friend is not the apple of his eye.”

Tamlin already knew that from being Lucien’s roommate for the better part of two years, but hearing Jurian say it made him strangely nervous. “So?”

“So, if Little Boy Lu comes back and he doesn’t make up some kind of excuse about dinner-theater tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch for a week.”

Those were some terribly high stakes, because it was a terribly uncomfortable couch. But before Tamlin could agree, Lucien reappeared with a can of ginger ale, looking pensive.

“Hey��� Everything okay?”

Lucien nudged Tamlin’s arm, startling him from his reverie.

“You okay?” Lucien repeated. “You look a little… distant.”

Just then, the crosswalk light changed from red to green, and Tamlin released a tight sigh that clouded the air in front of his face. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“Yeah? What about?”

As they began crossing the city street with a crowd of holiday shoppers and theater-goers, Tamlin considered his words carefully. “If we cut across the park, we can save some time. Annie’s Diner is still a couple blocks away, so…”

Lucien shrugged. “I don’t mind the extra time,” he said. “It gives us a chance to talk, anyway.”

Tamlin breathed a quivering sigh. That’s what he was afraid of.

“You cold?”

“Nah.” He sniffed, then tried to joke, “I just forgot my long red underwear at home, so…”

Lucien chuckled, and slid his white woolen scarf free from his neck. “Here.”

Tamlin’s face flushed and he faltered at the end of the crosswalk, earning him an annoyed ‘Hey, watch it,’ from the pedestrians behind him. “I was just kidding,” he tried to insist when they were safely on the sidewalk.

Lucien shrugged and held the scarf out to him, undeterred. “I wasn’t.”

When Tamlin still hesitated, Lucien took both ends and flung the loop around Tamlin’s neck.

It was as if, for one brief moment, time slowed down… just a little bit. Just like in the movies, he could hear his mother say with a wistful sigh. Warmth settled around his shoulders, and his head was filled with the dizzying scent of expensive cologne as Lucien brought both ends of the scarf together in an elegant, expert knot.

“There you go,” Lucien said, patting Tamlin’s chest. “It’s not long underwear, but it’s better than nothing.”

Tamlin let out a sudden breath and touched the knot at his neck. The scarf was still so warm, and it smelled like… like him. “Thanks, man,” he said quietly.

Lucien smiled and slapped his shoulder. “No problem.” He gestured to the corner block and said, “Which way do we go?”

Tamlin blinked and tried to get his bearings. “Um, this—no, this way.”

The warmth the scarf brought made it easier for Tamlin to appreciate his surroundings. Christmas lights glimmered from storefronts, lampposts, and the decorative shade trees planted along the sidewalk. Everything had a soft, orange glow to it, even the snow. The farther away they walked from the hub of the theater district, the less crowded the streets became. Cars drove more slowly, and couples paused in front of cheery Christmas displays. No one seemed to be in a hurry. It was nice.

“So,” Lucien began conversationally, “got any fun plans this season?”

“Not really.” Tamlin shrugged. “It’s just me and Jurian. We might catch a game on TV or something, but… it’s not really my thing. What about you?”

“Well, let’s see,” Lucien mused. “The company Christmas party is coming up, A. K. A. the family reunion from hell.” Lucien smirked, and Tamlin chuckled. “You want to come along?”

“To hell? I’ll pass.”

Lucien breathed a laugh, then rubbed at his nose and sniffed. “You know, um, a few friends are talking about getting together for New Year’s, if that’s more your thing.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “I don’t know. I mean, I wouldn’t know anyone, so…”

“You’d know me. And Vassa.”

“Yeah, well, after Christmas, Vassa might not like me very much.”

“Why not?”

Tamlin blanched. He couldn’t tell him about Koschei’s contract, so instead he quickly fibbed, “You know, because of Jurian.”

Lucien considered this with a thoughtful frown, then looked away. “Yeah, maybe,” he murmured, then shrugged. “Well, like I said, we haven’t made any definite plans yet, so…”

Tamlin was surprised at his own disappointment, but he conceded a shrug. “Yeah… okay.”

“Okay,” Lucien echoed, then nudged him and said, “Hey. I’m sorry Swan Lake didn’t work out. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” Tamlin said quickly. “I’m just sorry you didn’t get to see it with Vassa like you planned.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, you know?” Lucien shrugged dismissively. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll have a much better time with Jurian tonight than she ever would with me.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Tamlin said quietly. When Lucien gave him a surprised look, Tamlin blushed and hastily explained, “I mean if you knew Jurian the way I do, you’d understand.”

Lucien grimaced. “What is the deal with you and him, anyway?”

“Deal?”

“Yeah. I mean, is he your boss, or your buddy, or…”

“Roommate.”

“Yeah, or roommate, or… Wait.” Lucien stopped him. “You guys live together?”

Tamlin shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

“So, isn’t it kind of weird to be living with your boss?”

“You work for your dad. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I don’t live with my dad,” Lucien said, resuming his pace. “I’ve got my own place, and my own space.”

Tamlin fell into step beside him and said, “Believe me, if I could afford my own place, I’d move out in a heartbeat.”

“So, ask for a raise.”

Tamlin scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’m serious. How much is Jurian paying you?”

Tamlin winced. There was no easy, or legal, way to answer that.

When he remained silent, Lucien made a face and groaned. “I’m sorry, Tam. You don’t have to answer that. I’m just…” He sighed and threw up his hands in a resigned shrug. “I’m not trying to interrogate you. I’m just trying to figure this out.”

“What’s there to figure out?” Tamlin said, more sharply than he intended. “Jurian offered me a job, and I took it.”

“You were the first chair violinist in the entire Middengard University Orchestra, and now you’re sitting in some passenger seat to help your boss avoid toll fees.”

Tamlin’s face grew hot with shame as he looked away. “Things change.”

The snow stopped crunching beside him, and Tamlin turned to see Lucien staring at him. “‘Things change’?” he echoed incredulously, then spread his hands wide. “Like what?”

Tamlin swallowed hard. “I can’t tell you.”

Lucien dropped his hands and stepped closer. “Why not?” he asked more gently.

Tamlin’s eyes stung, and his hands curled into fists in his pockets in an effort to keep those unwelcome tears at bay. “Because then… you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“What? Tam…”

Lucien was close enough now that the clouds of their breath mingled, but he didn’t try to squeeze his shoulder or slap his back or even hug him… Tamlin wasn’t sure he’d let him if he tried. He wasn’t sure what he wanted at all, and Lucien seemed to sense this.

“I know we haven’t seen in each other in seven years, but… when we met, it felt like I’d known you forever,” Lucien said with a sad, wistful smile. “We could tell each other anything. Like the time my brothers nearly blinded me when we were playing Pirates,” he said, touching the small scar above his left eye with a wry smile. “Or how they told me I was adopted and made me cry when I was six.”

Tamlin breathed a sad chuckle, and it eased the tightness in his lungs, just a little.

Lucien’s smile faded. “Or, like the time when you… you cried at your mom’s funeral, and what—what your dad did to you afterwards.”

Tamlin sniffed and swiped away a sudden, stray tear. Stop it. Real men don’t cry. Unless you’re a pussy. And you’re not a pussy, are you? Tamlin’s cheek stung. Huh? Are you? Answer me when I’m talking to you, goddammit.

“Tam…” Lucien’s mahogany brown eyes were filled with concern. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Tamlin shook his head and sniffed again. “Yeah, no. It’s fine. I’m okay.”

Lucien slowly shook his head. “That’s not what I asked.”

Tamlin shrugged dismissively. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

Lucien’s lips grew pinched, and he sighed as he turned away and ran a hand over the melting snowflakes in his hair. Tamlin wished he could tell him the truth, but he just… couldn’t. After a long, painful moment, Lucien turned back and asked, “Where is this restaurant, anyway?”

Finally. An easy question. Tamlin sighed as he looked around, then pointed. “There. At the end of the block.” They didn’t speak again until they were inside.

An aluminum bell jingled above the door as Tamlin and Lucien stepped out of the cold and into the blissful warmth of Annie’s Downtown Diner. Although the air smelled like cooking grease, and the checkered tile floors had definitely seen better days, there was an easy, relaxed atmosphere that saw its patrons lingering over mugs of coffee and hot apple pie. Hanging lamps lit each cozy red booth in warm, golden light, and imitation evergreen wreaths hung in the windows. Somewhere along the back wall, the radio was playing ‘White Christmas’.

As Tamlin looked around for an empty booth, a deep, familiar voice called out from the kitchen, “Yo, Tammy!”

Tamlin smiled and took his hand out of his pocket to wave at the cook. “’Sup, Annie!”

Lucien’s eyes grew wide as he glanced between Tamlin and the burly cook grinning behind the counter. “That’s Annie?” he mouthed.

Tamlin couldn’t help but smile at Lucien’s confusion. “It’s short for Andras,” he explained quietly.

“He’s not short at all,” Lucien muttered.

Tamlin continued to smile and stepped closer to the counter. “How’s it goin’, man?”

The cook shrugged as he wiped his broad hands on a dish towel, making the wolf tattoo on his left bicep ripple. “Eh, I can’t complain. Say, where’s the J-man?”

“He’s got other plans tonight.”

“Ooh, hot date, huh?”

Tamlin let out a weak chuckle and avoided looking at Lucien. “Something like that.”

The cook grinned. “Nice.”

Tamlin could feel Lucien’s frown, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

“Much obliged,” the cook said, straightening up to slap the used dish towel over his shoulder. “So, you want the usual tonight?”

Tamlin nodded and held up two fingers. “Make it a double.”

“Two apple parfaits, comin’ right up!” Annie—Andras—called out, then disappeared into the kitchen.

As Tamlin led the way to an empty corner booth, Lucien followed behind and remarked, “I thought we were having latkes.”

“We are,” Tamlin said, then slid into his seat. When Lucien was settled opposite him, he continued, “The way Annie makes them is by layering potato latkes on the bottom, then sour cream, then fresh applesauce on top. And, if he has it in stock, a sprig of mint. He calls them apple parfaits. They’re really good.”

“Huh,” Lucien said thoughtfully, removing his gloves. “So… Annie is another friend of yours?”

“More like an acquaintance,” Tamlin said, unknotting the scarf to set it aside. “But yeah, sure. I guess.”

“Hmm,” was all Lucien said before the waitress appeared to bring them two glasses of ice water.

“Coffee tonight, boys?” Alis asked, pulling out a pad of paper from her apron pocket.

“No. None for me, thank you,” Lucien said quietly.

“I’m good, thanks,” Tamlin said.

“I know you are,” Alis said kindly. “Can I get you something, anyway?” When he smiled and declined the proper way, she acquiesced and said, “All right, then. Just be sure to tell your boss not to work you so hard. We missed you two at Thanksgiving, and here it is almost Christmas.”

Tamlin nodded and agreed. “I’ll tell him.”

She smiled, then clicked her pen closed. “Good. Now, you boys just give me a holler if you need anything. Anything at all, all right?”

“All right. Thanks, Alis.”

She nodded, smiling fondly, then strolled along to check on her next customer.

When Tamlin looked back, Lucien was staring at him. Hard. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lucien muttered, looking away.

“You sure about that? It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Still looking away, Lucien shrugged. “Like I said, it’s nothing.” His jaw was set, and his expression pinched. “Tammy.”

Tamlin closed his eyes and sighed. “Look,” he said patiently, folding his arms on the table. “Andras’s grandmother was the original Annie, and he took over the place when she retired. The name stuck. He calls everyone he likes some kind of nickname. If you started coming in here regularly, he’d probably call you Lucy. It’s just what he does, okay?”

Lucien’s stiff posture relaxed just a bit as he scratched at the tiny scar above his left eyebrow. “Yeah, okay.”

“Friends?”

Lucien looked at him then, and for one terrifying moment Tamlin thought he might decline. But then Lucien took a deep breath and stuck his hand out across the table. “Friends.”

Tamlin smiled and gratefully took it. Lucien had inherited his mother’s hands, which were long and slender. They were the sort of hands you would find in an orchestra playing the flute or fingering a harp, not wasted in the legal department of some faceless corporation. Not like Tamlin’s hands, which had once made grown men cry with his violin playing, but now made unhappy spouses rage when the adulterous photos he took came to light. Lucien’s fingers gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, and Tamlin was sorry to let go.

“Two apple parfaits.” Alis appeared to set their loaded plates in front of them. “Extra crispy, with extra applesauce, just the way you like it,” she told Tamlin with a smile. “Anything else I can get you boys?”

When he thanked her and assured her that they were fine, she left him and Lucien alone to enjoy their dinner.

Lucien bent over his plate and wafted the fragrant steam toward his nose. “It smells kind of like… hash browns, but different,” he observed cautiously.

“They’re better.” Tamlin smiled and picked up his fork. “You should try it with an egg sometime, but your first time has to be pure latke.”

“Are you suggesting there will be a next time?”

Tamlin paused cutting up his latke. “Yeah… Why? You don’t think you’ll like it?”

“It’s not that. I meant…” Lucien shook his head and picked up his cutlery. “I guess I’ll just have to try it first and see.”

Tamlin watched as he slowly lifted that first hesitant forkful, then took that first delicate bite. As he slowly chewed, his brown eyes closed in reverence, then he let out a low moan.

“Oh my god.”

Tamlin grinned. “I told you.”

“Oh… my god.”

Tamlin chuckled and dug into his own dinner. “You can thank me later.”

“Mm-hnn,” was Lucien’s only reply, because he had already taken another bite.

When their ravenous pace had slowed and the latkes were nearly gone, Lucien mentioned that he would have to drag Eris there to eat sometime. His oldest brother hardly ever took time away from the office, but these latkes might just be the thing to lure him out. After that, their conversation turned to the rest of the Vanserra clan, especially Mrs. Vanserra and how she was doing lately. Tamlin had only met her a couple of times, but he remembered her with great fondness. And not just because he missed his own mother so much, especially at Christmas.

“She used to ask about you, you know.”

Tamlin frowned as he sucked the last of the sour cream off the tines of his fork. “What do you mean?”

“My mom,” Lucien said. “She used to ask about you, and wondered how you were doing after you… you know… left.”

“After I was asked to leave, you mean.”

Lucien straightened up in his seat, then gripped the edge of the table as he leaned forward. “You mean you were—” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “—you were expelled?”

Tamlin’s face flushed as he realized what he’d just revealed. “I was asked to leave,” he repeated stubbornly. “It was that or be expelled. I chose to leave.”

Lucien sat back in his seat, stunned. “Why, though? You had everything going for you. You were first chair in orchestra, you were acing your classes, you had a sweet girlfriend… I thought you had it made.”

Tamlin’s shoulders slumped. “So did I,” he murmured.

Lucien continued, “After I came back from Scythia, it was like you disappeared… It was like you… you died.”

Tamlin bowed his head to rub the back of his neck, which had grown hot. He didn’t want to admit how many times he wished he had. “I couldn’t stay,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to watch the rest of my life burn to the ground, so I just… left.”

“Without telling me.”

Tamlin sighed and slumped back against the booth. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you reach out and tell me what was going on?” Lucien chided. “I would have come back if I had known you were in trouble.”

“No,” Tamlin said firmly. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Why not? Don’t you know how much I care about you?”

Tamlin’s heart nearly stopped as he stared. Lucien’s expression was so ardent and sincere that he could scarcely breathe. “I…” He faltered and dropped his gaze. “I thought about it,” he admitted softly. “But you’d been looking forward to that trip for months, and I… I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle what?”

When Tamlin didn’t answer, Lucien leaned forward and folded his arms on the table.

“Tam,” he said gently, trying to catch his eye, “did you get kicked out for cheating?”

“What? No!”

“Then what? Was it drugs?”

Tamlin glared at him. “Seriously?”

Lucien gave him an innocent shrug. “You can tell me, or I can keep guessing. Believe me, I heard plenty of theories.”

Tamlin’s heart sunk like a stone. “You did?”

“Yeah. You weren’t exactly invisible, you know. But nobody seemed to know the whole story. The people who seemed to know something thought that it had to do with you having some kind of nervous breakdown. There were rumors about you being on drugs or cheating or both, but I didn’t think you were capable of either. I just thought that maybe you needed a break, and you would come back, except… you never did. And that was it. I never heard from you again. Until today.”

Tamlin’s face fell. “Until today,” he echoed softly.

Lucien leaned in, trying to catch Tamlin’s eye. “Can you tell me what really happened?” he asked gently.

Before Tamlin could answer, Alis came back to check on them.

“Can I get you boys anything else?”

Tamlin managed a polite smile and shook his head. “You want anything?” he asked Lucien.

“No, I’m fine,” he insisted, then told the waitress, “This was great.”

She beamed, especially when Tamlin told her the same. When she offered to send some pie home with them, he declined, but with the promise that they would definitely be back for a double order. “Take care of yourselves out there, and come back and see us again real soon,” she said kindly when she dropped off the check.

Lucien reached for it, but Tamlin beat him to it. “Are you sure?” he asked as Tamlin pulled out his wallet. “I didn’t ask you out so you could pay for dinner.”

Tamlin’s face grew warm as he counted out the correct number of bills plus a tip. “It’s fine. You paid for drinks, so… now we’re even.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucien remarked, sliding out of the booth. “I think my drink cost the same as both of our dinners. It’s hardly fair.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tamlin insisted, tucking the bills under his plate before he stood. “I’m not so down on my luck that I can’t afford to take an old friend out to dinner once in a while.”

Lucien smiled at him as he stood, a warm, genuine smile. “Thanks for treating me,” he said, touching Tamlin’s arm. “This really was great.”

Maybe it was the cologne, or maybe he was actually allergic to wool, but as Tamlin knotted the scarf around his neck, his breath caught, just a little. “You’re welcome.”

The slow, sad refrain to a ‘Blue Christmas’ followed them as they stepped out the door and into the frosty evening. It had stopped snowing, but Tamlin still gripped Lucien’s scarf at his neck and fought back a shiver. Feelings he had long since buried were pushing their way through the frosty topsoil of his heart and reaching for the sun… But it was December, and December was not kind to roses.

As much as it terrified him, he didn’t want the night to be over. The thought of walking back to Jurian’s cold, dark apartment alone was bad enough, but the thought of inviting Lucien along was even worse.

Lucien made him feel like himself again. More than that, he made him feel like he was twenty-one again, when they were each looking at careers in music and journalism. They were going to travel the world together. Tamlin would play, and Lucien would write about it… Now Lucien was some lawyer working for his father’s company and Tamlin was some homeless has-been. How had it all gone so wrong?

“Okay,” Lucien said, clapping his gloved hands and rubbing them briskly together. “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m… really not sure,” Tamlin said, quivering. He didn’t have enough money to suggest anything as lavish as the theater, and anything that he could afford wasn’t up to Lucien’s standards. “We could take a walk around the park, but it’s getting late, so… If you just want to call it a night…”

“Do you want to come over to my place?”

Tamlin looked at him in surprise. “What? Really?”

“Sure,” Lucien said kindly. “We never did finish our conversation. I’ve got some photos of us from our college days that I found earlier today. I can make us some coffee, then we can talk.” He must have noticed Tamlin’s reluctance, for he continued, “Vassa is staying at a hotel, so we don’t have to worry about being overheard or anything. You can stay as long as you want, and you can say as much or as little as you want. Then, whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”

Tamlin didn’t want to think about the going home part, but everything else sounded… nice. Really nice. “Yeah. Okay.”

Lucien looked surprised, but pleased. “Okay,” he said, grinning. “Great. Yeah, I’ll call us a cab.”

There were several reasons why Jurian hated cab rides, and deliberately taking the longer, more expensive route was at the top of the list. Even though Tamlin’s—and Lucien’s—wallets were significantly lighter by the time the cabbie dropped them off, Tamlin couldn’t say that he minded all that much. The route had included several detours past some beautifully decorated neighborhoods, something Tamlin didn’t get to appreciate very often, especially with the way Jurian drove. And then there was the apartment itself.

Actually, calling it an apartment would be like calling a throne a chair. Jurian’s place was an apartment. Lucien’s place was a luxury penthouse in the sky.

Everything was decorated in rich chocolate tones and warm, earthy fabrics. Heavy bookcases lined one wall, filled with gorgeously bound hardcovers, and two plush chairs rested in front of an unlit brick fireplace. With the flip of a switch, Lucien got the fire going, and Tamlin sighed in wonder. It was the perfect place to settle in with a good book and a mug of coffee on a cold winter’s night… Not that he ever dreamed of partaking in such luxuries.

“Make yourself at home,” Lucien said, shrugging off his navy coat. “Sorry for the mess. The cleaners haven’t been in yet.”

Tamlin gawked as he slowly peeled off his jacket and looked around the spotless interior. If Lucien thought this was a mess, he would never be invited inside Jurian’s place. Ever.

“Have a seat,” Lucien coaxed, taking Tamlin’s humble, hunter green jacket from him.

“Well, I—okay.”

However, it wasn’t until Lucien returned with a handful of old candid photos that Tamlin could be persuaded to join him on a plump, brown and gold-striped loveseat.

“Do you want anything?” Lucien asked, gesturing to the vast, open kitchen.

“Hmm? No, that’s okay,” Tamlin said distractedly. He’d already been taken back in time by the first photo he picked up. He forgot all about shutter speeds and aperture and focal length to chuckle at the two gawky teenagers making faces at the camera. “Is that us?”

Lucien chuckled as well and leaned in. “Yeah. I think that was at the end of the first semester. Look.” He picked up another photo. “This was the first day I met you.”

Tamlin scarcely recognized the surly eighteen-year-old, with his short blond buzzcut and reserved, tight-lipped smile that said: Sure, I guess you can take my picture, you weirdo. The next photo, one that Tamlin had taken, was of a shaggy-haired Lucien pretending to be blinded by the camera flash.

Tamlin chuckled at the memory. “For a newbie, I didn’t do half-bad,” he remarked, “but for a second there, I thought I really did blind you.” He laughed and shook his head. “You were such an ass.”

Lucien grinned. “Hey, someone had to break the ice.”

The next photo was of Tamlin from a year later, and he looked much more relaxed, despite his distracted frown. He had been practicing his scales when Lucien snapped the candid photo. His hands and his face looked youthfully soft and slender while he practiced his beloved violin, and his hair, while still somewhat short, had begun to curl around his ears and forehead. It wouldn’t be long before he started tying it back… It was strange, though. He couldn’t remember the last time he had bothered tying it back.

He didn’t have time to brood, though, because the next picture was of Lucien with the widest, cheekiest grin, pretending to play his violin like a ukulele. And, naturally, the next one was of him lying ‘dead’ on the floor, pretending that Tamlin had stabbed him through the heart with his bow for playing his violin like a ukulele.

Tamlin flipped to the next photo and shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe you kept all these.”

Lucien nudged him. “You were my best friend. Of course I kept them.”

Tamlin swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, then set aside the photo of him and Lucien standing outside the music hall in matching suits without saying a word. The next photograph, though, made him tilt his head with a bemused smile. “Wait a second… Is that my plant?”

Lucien leaned in. “Oh, yeah! Before you brought it back to life. Wow. I can’t believe we smoked that thing.”

Tamlin shook his head and grinned and turned to the next photo, then he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh my god… Look. The High Lords.”

Lucien laughed with him as they looked at the six stoned teenagers sprawled out across their hazy dorm room, surrounded by empty bags of munchies and god knew what else. Tamlin turned the photo over to see once-familiar scrawls written on the back. “Tam, Lucien, Tarquin, Kal, Thesan, Rhys…” he read softly, then his smile faded.

His heart began to ache as he caught sight of the next photo waiting for him in the pile. A pretty girl with freckles and sandy brown hair was kissing his cheek as he smiled in surprise into the camera. They were standing in front of the duck pond at the university. It had been their first real date.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he turned it over and read her handwriting: Tam and me feeding the ducks. We miss you, Lu! Hope you’re having fun in Sythia. Love forever, Feyre

Tamlin’s hands began to shake as he lowered the photos to his lap.

“Hey,” Lucien said, gently touching his shoulder. “You okay?”

Tamlin sniffed and shook his head. “You know, I—” He cleared his throat. “I think I’d like that coffee now.”

“Okay, Tam,” Lucien said with a soft, understanding smile. “I’ll be right back. Take it easy.”

When he was gone, Tamlin dropped the photos onto the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. Lucien cared enough about him to keep silly mementos of their time together. He deserved to know the truth, no matter how awful. He just hoped Lucien meant it when he said he would hear him out.

“Tam?”

He looked up to see Lucien watching him from the kitchen entryway, pensively standing with his hands in his pockets. Tamlin was not the only one who had changed since their college days. His friend’s hair was no longer shaggy and carefree, but was a smooth, sleek auburn resting around his shoulders. Instead of a button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up and whatever pants happened to be clean that day, he wore a white turtleneck and dark slacks. Meanwhile, Tamlin made do with whatever decent clothes he could find secondhand. It was a far cry from the dark, tailored suits he used to wear when playing for packed concert halls.

“Do you still like your coffee black, with cream, no sugar?” Lucien asked gently. There were only so many times he could ask if Tamlin was okay when the answer was clearly No.

“Yeah,” Tamlin said quietly, then sighed and slowly rubbed his palms together. “Hey, Lu?”

“Yeah?” Lucien turned back and looked at him expectantly.

Tamlin swallowed hard. “Did… Did you ever make the Dean’s List?” he began hesitantly.

Lucien frowned in thought, then slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I was failing math there for a while. I remember that I almost didn’t get my grades up in time to go to Scythia. Why?”

“Well… I did.”

When Tamlin didn’t continue, Lucien took seemed to sense that there was more to the story, and took a step closer. “So… you made the Dean’s List? That’s good, right?”

“No.” Tamlin let out a resigned sigh and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “No, it really wasn’t.”

“What?” Lucien edged closer. “Why not?”

“Because… because that was how I met… her.”

“Who?”

Tamlin closed his eyes against the tears pricking his eyes and whispered, “Amarantha.”

[ghostgirl-22]

Artrick fucking around when art looks up and says "is this real?"/"i cant believe this is real" 🙊🙈

Hey anonnie I am so sorry in advance if you’re not into intoxication because I got him high just so he could say these exact words 🫣

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

Art knows he’s too high when Patrick pulls him onto his lap. They’re close, they’re so close but Patrick needs him closer. He’s giggling, Patrick’s giggling, with a freshly rolled joint between his fingers and Art is playing with the lighter. Fascinated by how it makes Patrick’s eyes sparkle when it’s burning.

“Okay come on, light me up, sweetheart,” Patrick says, putting the joint to his lips. And maybe it’s not a good idea. It’s that weird time between December and January where Christmas has passed but it’s not time for the Zweig family New Years Eve party. They’ve got nothing to do but lounge around, stay up too late and get in trouble. They’ve had so much more than enough weed but Art’s better judgment went out the window on the third joint. He thinks.

And he’s not sure but he thinks he’s starting to understand Futurama now. And not on the basic level he usually watches it but for the same reasons his physics professor likes it.

“Baby,” Patrick nudges. It’s always sweetheart and baby when they’re high. Art tries to pretend it doesn’t make him feel needy. He flicks the lighter on again and holds it to the joint in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hums happily inhaling while the paper burns. Arts probably going crosseyed watching the cherry. Patrick teases his fingers into Arts hair.

“Do you still play that… that… what’s it called… horn?” Patrick asks, gesturing vaguely with the joint pinched between his fingers tips.

Art giggles and Patrick smiles. “Saxophone.”

“Yeah. That thing.”

“No, I got kicked out of band, remember?”

“Did you suck that bad?” Patrick laughs.

Art rolls his eyes, and moves to settle properly on Patrick’s lap. “No I got caught with Mr. Drakes daughter.”

Patrick snorts a laugh. “Oh right. You were fingering her in the choir—“

“Allegedly,” Art interrupts, he’s probably talking too loud. He feels so warm. “And on the record—I never had sex on school grounds.”

“Oh right… they never proved it,” Patrick says grinning at him. “You were playing everything but that instrument. Fucking slut.”

“Well…” Art shrugs, “yeah I also really sucked.”

They both start giggling again.

“C’mere,” Patrick says, when he’s caught his breath. He puts the joint backwards so the cherry’s in between his lips and Art leans in and takes it into his mouth, their lips touching, just barely.

Art pulls back and sighs, taking a slow drag.

“You can blow it in my face,” Patrick says, resting his head against the back of the sofa. Art looks away, trying to be polite but Patrick grabs his jaw to direct Art back and make him finish blowing the smoke in his face. Patrick’s got his mouth open and he’s gazing at Art like he can see through him. His lips twitch into a slow smile as he brushes his fingertips over Art’s jawline before letting his hand fall down to Art’s waist. “You’re really fucking pretty.” He says.

Arts too high for all of this. He scoots closer. He’s getting too needy, he knows it but he’s getting so fuzzy, so high that he just needs Patrick to take care of him. He’s so much on Patrick now he can feel him, he’s hard, really hard. It makes Art’s mouth feel wet immediately. He wiggles and settles and wiggles again. Patrick takes the joint back, unashamed of what Arts found. He holds the joint out to Art.

“Come on baby, take one more for me,” Patrick says, softly. He sounds so weird. The way he sounds when he’s talking to a pretty girl. Or when he’s jerking off. Like sex. He sounds like sex.

Art can’t settle down, he can’t stop moving his hips, it’s so fucking stimulating, wiggling along the large bulge of Patrick’s cock. He forces himself to sit still and take another drag as Patrick holds it out to him. He blows the smoke out slowly, grinding his hips again and he feels Patrick’s featherlight touch back on his jaw guiding him closer. Closer still. Till Arts breathing directly into Patrick’s open mouth, his own heart is pounding loudly in his ears.

Art licks his lips. Patrick’s fingers are around the back of his neck now and he’s putting out the joint in an ashtray on the side table with his other. Art isn’t sure who starts it, but suddenly they’re kissing. Art’s moving, grinding down hard, tasting it as Patrick moans a delicious, “fuck,” right into his mouth.

Art closes his eyes, to the sounds of cartoons in the background. The light squeak of the sofa as he moves. And Patrick moaning. It’s too late at night. Always too cold in Patrick’s basement. Too surreal. All of it. “Is this real?“ Art gasps against his lips.

Patrick’s grabbing at Art’s waistband, rubbing Art through his boxers. “Is this real?” Art asks again, a little more desperate.

Patrick chuckles, and Art can feel it all over him. He shivers and feels Patrick rub his shoulders. “Hey,” he says gently, coaxing him.

Art opens his eyes and Patrick’s smiling easily, it makes Art panic a little less. “It’s real,” Patrick says. “You here?”

Art nods slowly.

“Space cadet.” Patrick takes hold of his face and kisses him again, slow, deliberate.

”Here?” Patrick asks again. Art leans forward and takes his mouth again. Kissing. Grinding, Patrick holding onto his waist. Art grinds so much he feels Patrick seize up eventually, pushing back and moaning into his mouth. Feels himself start soaking through his own underwear, coming breathless in Patrick’s ear.

“Mmkay baby?” Patrick sighs.

“I can’t believe this is real,” Art says, contentedly as he relaxes into Patrick’s arms.

[sigmalonso]

untitled strollonso drabble

tags: alternate universe - non-drivers, tattoo artist! fernando alonso

notes: i love strollonso? kinda? i'm very normal about them? i hope?

"Done. I get this wrapped up and⸺Lance, you okay?"

Lance blinked owlishly at the mention of his name. The steady buzz of the tattoo machine had ceased, but he could still feel the vibration all the way to his teeth. His head felt light but in an odd way and he couldn't feel the tip of his fingers. He should have taken the offer for a break.

"Lance? Oh, poor boy." There was a rustle before a warm palm gently cupped his face. Lance nudged back against the touch pitifully. "How are you doing, chico? Do you need time?"

Yes, time is good, Lance nodded his head, squinting his eyes to fight against the haze in his vision, what he needs is some time alone with his ultra-attractive tattoo artist. Nothing else matters in this world.

He heard a choked-out laugh before the touch withdrew. "Nooo," Lance whined, long limbs flailing to get that hand on him again. "Where're you goin'?"

The owner of the hand didn't return, which left Lance extremely dejected. He sat slumped in his chair and, through his woozy head, he wondered where went wrong. Perhaps he was being too much. But it wasn't his fault that he found his tattoo artist attractive. He was an adult man, a bisexual man, with fully functioning eyes. And his tattoo artist kept calling him 'baby', which did nothing to appease said attraction.

He was so not getting another tattoo, lest he would do something stupid like fall in love with his tattoo artist.

"Fernandooo," Lance called out, half-whining again. His chest ached, but that was probably because he just had needles poking his skin.

"Lance," Fernando said from somewhere nearby, and Lance perked up at the sound of his voice, "I'm wrapping your tattoo up, baby. I don't want this to get infected."

At the explanation, Lance let out a sigh before leaning back against the chair. Fernando probably gives amazing aftercare, if this is how he treats his customers, Lance thought dreamily.

"Oh, Dios⸺adrenaline got you badly, eh," Fernando murmured from above his head and Lance felt himself go crosseyed in his attempt to stare at Fernando. "Here, drink this." Something was poking his lips before Lance dutifully latched on it. "Can you do it, baby?"

Lance nodded his head despite the odd way his neck was bent in an odd way. Fernando had given him juice. It was something that came in a tiny box children had but clearly, Fernando didn't trust him to hold it properly because he put the box on the table next to his chair.

Surprisingly, the juice seemed to clear his head.

His vision was no longer hazy and, to his joy, he could now see Fernando's beautiful hazel eyes. Lance smiled at him, a little goofy around the edge

Thank you, Fernando, Lance said inside his head, but what came out was, "You're so hot."

"Yeah," Fernando said through a laugh, "adrenaline really got you badly, baby." He pat Lance's cheek, whose eyes widened in a mix of surprise and terror. "Don't act so surprised. You said a lot of things when I worked on your tattoo. It was very flattering."

"What else did I say, Fernando?" Lance called out, but Fernando only flashed him a cheeky grin and a wink before he disappeared into the backroom. "Fernando!"

Lance fell back into his chair with a groan. He was so not getting another tattoo, lest he embarrassed himself like this again.

[fae-papercuts]

Dark Corners Of The Earth

The last thing Gerald expected was to bump into some eldritch, horrifying creature on the way to bed. The creature didn't look too pleased about bumping into him, either.

It was about eight feet tall, and mostly appeared to be made of tentacles. Gerald would have liked to give a detailed description of the thing, so that he could feel a little bit less mad when telling the story later on, but the thing about eldritch horrors is that they tend to do quite a good job of defying description.

There were definitely tentacles, and things that seemed to be eyes peering down at him. Some were possibly peering up at him, too. The top and bottom of the thing seemed to be in constant disagreement about which was which. Gerald got the general feeling that on top of it having a lively debate with gravity, it was also attempting to squeeze itself into rather less dimensions than it was used to existing in.

It made him go crosseyed.

It was only after a moment of attempting to process the sight before him, and the fact that he had just bounced off the thing like a rubber ball, that his brain told him he should probably scream. In the absence of any better ideas, he went ahead and did it.

His cry of alarm made the thing with all the wiggly bits go even wigglier, the pair of them recoiling away from each other. His brain was still trying to catch up with current events, so it was up to Gerald's body to respond by itself. It decided to reach out an arm, point at what he couldn't quite focus on without getting a slight migraine, and let out another yell of shock.

Later, Gerald would claim that his intimidating roar had scared off the abomination. If you had managed to find the abomination it would probably have melted your brain trying to communicate what happened from it's extra-dimensional perspective. But before your mind turned into a poached egg, you would get the feeling that what the creature had felt was more akin to "how rude, I didn't come here to get screamed at."

In a flash of what was definitely not light, with a sound that was almost not sound, and a pang of feeling entirely unlike being happily relaxed, the being folded itself up, down, inside out, backwards, and then in a direction that made absolutely no sense to Gerald whatsoever. With that, it was gone.

It did, however, leave a strange smell behind. Gerald sniffed cautiously, and to his surprise found that it smelled distinctly and clearly like goldfish food.

After a moment, a small head poked around the corner ahead of him, eyebrows raised with a look of surprise and concern.

"You alright there Gerald?" the diminutive figure asked.

Gerald blinked, cleared his throat, straightened up and brushed imaginary dust off his coat. Some of the imaginary dust floated upwards in a rather unnatural way, then fizzled out of existence. Gerald ignored this and puffed out his chest with annoyance.

"Fucking hell, Ed, did you not see that, that.. that thing?" he cried out, keeping the hysterics almost out of his voice.

When Ed shook his head, looking slightly perplexed, Gerald huffed and strode towards him, wafting away the smell of fish food with annoyance. He stormed into their room and sat down hard on the closest seat, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the words to describe what he had just seen.

Ed carefully came over and hopped up next to him, placing a hand on Gerald's thigh. "Whatever it was, probably best to talk it over after a good sleep, eh?" he suggested reassuringly.

Gerald let out a sigh, and allowed himself to lean reassuringly against Ed for a second before replying. "Yes, I suppose you're probably right." He squeezed Ed's hand in thanks, before standing up and approaching his coffin.

"Help me with the lid, will you? It takes ages to get it seated right from the inside," Gerald asked, but before he had even finished the sentence long green fingers were lifting the dark, heavy coffin lid.

Ed watched as Gerald clambered inside, and smiled a wry smile. The sort of smile that particularly suited his pointed goblin features. "Rest well, old fellow," he said to the vampire lying pale and well-dressed in his coffin, before the two of them wiggled the ill-fitting lid back into place.

Ed turned away and sighed, looking over to meet the gaze of the large, furry, winged creature with enormous red eyes that clung to the nearest wall. "We're running out of dark corners, mate," he told the mothman. "It's getting bloody crowded."

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt 4: Off the Hook

"Please? Please?!"

The lalafellan man almost needed to sprint to keep up with Roaring; he had been hoping Broti would have given up twenty paces ago but the merchant was especially persistent today for some reason, dogging after him through the market crowds and into a side alleyway.

Finally he stopped and felt Broti bounce off his calves, giving him a breath or two to stand up before he turned around. The roegadyn did not make an effort to lower his volume to what others would consider 'normal' as he stared down at him. "What did you do?"

Broti winced a bit at the booming voice and straightened, rubbing morosely at his backside. "Nothing illegal! Promise! Just...I made a deal, and it's not a good deal anymore, and the Blades won't help because it's not breaking the law!"

Roaring closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly. Why the man insisted on trying to make it in Ul'dah baffled him -- the backroom dealings, the competition and sabotage, crooked law enforcement, syndicates... If he'd just go anywhere else he'd probably be successful by now. "What did you DO?" he asked again, making sure his volume and tone were a bit more gentle.

"I-I made a deal with Bosuko! He was going to ship things in, and then I'd sell and we'd split the profits 40-60 -- he'd get more because of shipping costs, I'm not an unfair man! Bu-but um, lately he's...not sending things, and I missed a spot in the contract where he's paid on retainer as a consultant! Even if he's not doing anything! And, and I can't dissolve it without both parties agreeing!"

Anywhere else... "And?"

Broti gnawed on his knuckles a moment then suddenly threw himself at Roaring's boots. "If someone like you asked him, m-maybe he...would? You're big and a hero! Saved the world! He can't ignore you surely!"

There were times where Roaring wished he'd been a little more firm in rebuffing the man in the past when he'd first attached himself to the roegadyn -- this, and any other request based on Roaring's reputation alone, were definitely among those times. They were in that gray area of more than acquaintances but not quite friends, and while overall he didn't mind the man he had no desire to be dragged into his poor business decisions.

Again Roaring huffed a sigh and reached down to pluck Broti off the ground and set him on his feet, then dropped down onto a knee to be closer to eye level with him; he held up a finger to him, and watched as the lalafell went almost crosseyed as he focused on it.

"I will help on one condition," Roaring whispered. This close to him he'd probably knock Broti over if he spoke at 'regular' volume.

"Name it!" Broti insisted, jumping up and down in place. "Anything!"

"Leave Ul'dah. Build your business elsewhere."

"Buh...whuh?" Broti sputtered, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Leave...?"

Roaring nodded silently; a faint sense of concern rose in him as he noticed Broti did not blink once for a minute or two.

Finally, Broti dropped his chin to his chest. "But... Everything and everyone I know is...here."

"Family?"

"N-no, no family, but- I mean... I won't know anyone, or the rules, or..."

Roaring stood up, crossing his arms. "Rules are easily learned, and not so easily broken elsewhere."

"But um... What about you then?" Broti looked up again, looking terrified.

Roaring eyed him evenly and remained silent.

"But...I ...but... How do I even...? Where would I go?"

"Limsa Lominsa. Ala Mhigo. Cross the seas to Doma. Go someplace where the law is firm."

Once more Broti gnawed on his knuckles, somehow managing the impressive feat of getting eight of them into his mouth at once. "...will you...visit?" he asked then, voice tiny.

"Perhaps." Roaring reached to his belt and unclipped his coin purse; at this point in his life money was never an issue and the leather purse was almost the size of Broti's head - it was better suited as a backpack than a purse on someone of Broti's stature. He jostled it in Broti's direction and the lalafell, with an obvious degree of uncertainty, held his hands out. Roaring dropped it into his arms, the much smaller man almost toppling over at its weight.

"What's, um, what's this?" Broti wheezed, straightening under the weight.

"To get started. Where is Bosuko?"

"Oh. ...oh! T-thank you! Thank you! Ah, hmm, probably...in...his office?"

Roaring gestured for him to lead on; Broti shuffled the coin purse under his arm and spun, hurrying off the way they'd come. He would help the man get off the hook for whatever this contract required and then hopefully the next time he crossed paths with him he'd be much better off in some other city, whichever city that may end up being.

[himbostudier]

xhimbology​:

Tucker snorted a little at the other’s comments about their honeymoon. Really, though, he had all faith in Lance to be able to do it. He wasn’t sure how as fiscal responsibility wasn’t exactly his forte, but he would leave all that thinking for the other male to do. If that was up to him, they’d both be screwed and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. Sometimes, knowing and accepting your weaknesses was the strong thing to do and Tucker tried to be better about that. “Careful.” Tucker giggled in between lapping around his sphere of ice cream once more. “I might actually hold you to that. And–ugh–if you take me out to Greece in one of those fancy Airbnbs.” He rolled his eyes to the back of his head as if in ecstasy, “I’d just let you do whatever you want to me. I can be your little bitch boy after that.” Not that he wouldn’t do anything for Lance anyways, but if there was ever a chance to start planting seeds for the future now was that time. “Where would you want to go for our honeymoon?” He asked, curiosity taking over. He went for his ice cream once more, though this time being a little too overzealous and getting some on the tip of his nose. He went a little crosseyed as he looked at the melting goop, shutting his eyes hard and opening them again as if to reset them. “Ah shoot, can you pass the napkin?” He asked, looking at the other expectantly.

Everyone had their own special talents and things that they brought to the table. While Tucker most definitely had his personality and his body working for him, Lance was more of the camp that liked to use their intellect to further their own goals. He was working on a lot of different things at the moment to amass the fortune he wanted. He didn't want to become someone like Besoz, who was just overly rich to the point of ridiculousness. However, he did want to be able to live comfortably.

"You can hold me to that all you want. It's gonna happen one way or another. I'm gonna be rich one day." The fact that they were both single right now was sparking these conversations, but he wasn't saying these things just to pity Tucker. If he had to be married to someone, he'd be his #1 choice, by and far. He did get a good chuckle at the other's comment, though. "Oh, yeah? Is that all it takes? Well, you better start packing your speedos, then." He was more than well aware enough of how the man looked in minimal clothing.

"I'd want to go somewhere like Brazil. I'd want to experience a whole new culture." If he was gonna start his life with someone, he wanted to do it with a bang. A place like Brazil would be simply unforgettable. When Tucker got ice cream on his nose, he was quick with a napkin......but not before he snapped a pic of the man with his eyes crossed. "Super sexy face, man."

[dailytomlinson]

Jack Saunders, BBC R1

Louis: Hello, hello!

Jack: It's good to have you back, thanks for coming in!

Louis: Thanks for having me back!

Jack: Of course, any time, mate! You're in to get some fun, can't have enough, can you?

Louis: I love it, lad, love it!

Jack: Last time you were here, you were in 2019, [...] and we played this game, called "Keep or delete?". Do you remember what happened during that game?

Louis: Not specifically, I do remember the game.

Jack: Ok. Let's see if this docs your memory.

Jack: [replays the 2019 game which Louis says he would get rid of Arctic Monkeys' I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor]

Louis: I must've turned up drunk that day, I must have, honestly. That's a crime! What was The Strokes song? What was it again? Did you know?

Jack: Yeah, yeah, it was up against The Strokes, good memory, it was Last Nite, by The Strokes.

Louis: It's a though pick, but I don't imagine why I picked that? "I Bet You Look Good On The Dace Floor" is a super nostalgic song for me, to be fair.

Jack: Last time was carnage and we will hopefully get it tonight, especially with the end of your tour. You been super busy, man. Especially with this Indie festival you run as well, at Malaga.

Louis: Yeah, man, I mean, that's been a dream of mine for a long time to put out an event like that, to be fair.

Jack: Do you kinda of feel having a responsibility to, I guess, be a platform for your music fans, something that your fans might not normally experience?

Louis: Yeah, that's why I like doing those things and that's also why I like picking the right supports on my tour. You know, especially with bands like Stone, I don't know if any of my fans would've heard of them specifically if I had not brought them to the festival, for example. So those kinda of things are definitely fulfilling for me.

Jack: I'm glad you brought up Stone.

Louis: Oh, they are amazing lads!

Jack: Who else did you had on your festival?

Louis: So Voodoos opened up, then SunRoom who supported me American-in the US tour, then Hi? and then we had The Vaccines. I'm proper honoured, man, for them to play the festival.

Jack: So you didn't do this thing half, you went in full wag. Did you had a dream with them afterwards, as well? Did you get to hang out with them?

Louis: Yeah I did, to be fair. I think, not me finest hour, I went to club after, think I lasted about an hour before leaving quite drunk.

Jack: So, for your brand new music video releasing as well, and I think this was very evident with Walls, you clearly trying channel kinda your taste within your music [...] with BTM, feels like you've done it again, man. It's clearly something you're actively trying to keep going in the music, right?

Louis: Definitely! I tried to come up with something from the blocks that felt like a statement of intend, felt ambitious, it's got that big chorus and yeah, even the album as a whole, I think it's a much better representation of me, as an artist, and not saying the first one isn't, it's just... On your first album there's so much room for over thinking.

Jack: I mean, it's a different prospect being on your own compared to being in a band.

Louis: Oh, definitely.

Jack: You were finding yourself over there, on your own, so there's gonna be an element of development still going on. I'm glad you brought the chorus up as well, coz that's the first thing that I thought when I listened to the track. I was like 'This chorus feels so BIG'. For you, those kinda of like BIG and kinda of indie choruses that you think about, what comes to mind? The ones that you always hammer or sing along? That kinda of thing...

Louis: You know what, the irony is the first thing that comes to me mind in terms of a chorus that I can remember singing, is ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’, which I cancelled the last time I was here, like an idiot!

Jack: [laughs] I'm not surprised, man, that is essential, a banger, isn't it?

Louis: It is, it is!

Jack: You worked with [producer] Mike Crossey on this one

Louis: [nods] Yeah

Jack: Now, look, I've got a list of the credentials to display. He's worked with Yungblud, [lists other artists], Arctic Monkeys - you can tell Mike you got rid of one of his songs--

Louis: No, no, I didn't it, I didn't it!

Jack: Well, you have been on tour for what we've talked about, you been pretty close to fans over the last few months and probably your whole crew, to be honest. Anyway... You should probably know them pretty well, do you agree?

Louis: I'd say so, yeah. I hope so.

Jack: Well for the first ever time on the Radio 1 show, Louis, we're gonna play a game of how well do you know your fans.

Louis: Okay

Jack: Okay. We've got self confessed super fan Ali with us right now, she's gonna post 5 questions about herself and her fandom view and all you gotta do is get the right answers, Louis. Is as simple as that!

Louis: I could be wrong, but I think I know Ali.

Jack: You do?

Louis: I think, I think if it's the same girl I'm thinking of--

Jack: Lets meet Ali.

Fan: [introduces herself] I travelled to see you all over the world, but how many gigs have I travelled to to see you as a solo artist? [lists options]

Louis: If she's asking the question, gotta be a lot, 50 is a lot, so let's go with 33.

Fan: What's the single longest journey I did to a show? [lists options]

Jack: You must heard of some fans travelling crazy distances to come and see you.

Louis: Oh, definitely!

Jack: What's the maddest or maybe longest you heard of?

Louis: I feel like there was a few people at the AFHF2 that came from South America, which is like... Crazy! I mean, shot in the dark, let's go C. I do think it was the girl that I thought it was. I can recognise the voice, I think so.

Fan: I've been holding up a thing at your gigs, what is it that I hold up? [lists options]

Louis: Now this just kinda confused me because this is not the girl I thought it was but there is someone, I should know the lyrics by now but some of the One Direction songs, I didn't sing all parts in it and I covered it and first few shows this girl held up the lyrics so I'm gonna go with lyrics.

Jack: I mean, have you seen many blow out flamingoes?

Louis: I haven't seen one, to be fair. So that's pretty random.

Fan: A fun fact about you is that you can do farts with your arms--

Louis: [laughs]

Fan: Can you guess a fun fact about me? [lists options]

Jack: Do the armpit!

Louis: Nahhh... A bit sweaty under there to be fair.

Jack: Cmon, do it

Louis: Nahhhhhhhhhhhh

Jack: It's too lubricated [both laugh]

Louis: So...

Jack: [Re-lists option A]

Louis: Surely no chance

Jack: [Re-lists option B and C]

Louis: I mean, even for a super fan, that'd be hard. Let's go B. Let's go B.

Jack: You think?

Louis: No sense of smell? I've heard of that about before to be fair. Yeah, so let's go with that.

Fan: Out of all the show's I've seen you, can you guess which one was the favorite? [lists options]

Jack: What was your favorite out of those ones? Well, what was your favorite show on the last tour you've done?

Louis: It's hard, it's kinda cliche but the last gig that I played, which was in Milan, right at the end of the tour, honestly for the first 4/5 songs it just felt like the whole year flashed before my eyes. It was a massive massive gig, that was by far the biggest gig of the tour--

Jack: San Siro? You're a football fan as well, that's gotta be like so!

Louis: Yeah, yeah! Honestly, honestly, really really really special, so that, for me, would be my favorite. Surely, is her favorite as well, I'm gonna go with that.

Louis, getting question #1 answer, wrong: That's crazy, crazy! What a legend! I played maybe 70 shows this year, so she must've come to most! That's madness. [Jack: 3/4 of the show] About right!

Louis, getting question #2 answer, wrong: Incredible, man, incredible. I hope I get one of these rights.

Jack: So do I, is not looking good right now.

Louis: I love my lot, I thought I knew plenty about them! Clearly not!

Louis, getting question #3 answer, right: [laughing] Nice, nice. I know who it is now, I know who it is now.

Jack: So she hold up at every single show?

Louis: Yeah, there's a couple of times where I feel [...] I don't remember and I'm like 'Who's got lyrics?' and I only had to look a couple rows back and she's there, man. What a legend!

Louis, getting question #4 answer, right: [laughing] That's pretty strong, to be fair!

Louis, getting question #5 answer, wrong: I should of [got that right], really. There's a sentimental aspect to that that I missed.

Jack: I was gonna say that, because the way she's describing it, it was a very special one.

Louis: It was, it definitely was! I think Milan just happened a couple of weeks ago and that's why it fogs the memory a little.

Jack: When you did the Wembley one, did you feel sentimental? Did you think about how far you'd come?

Louis: Oh, massively. My relationship with that venue, we were put there together as a band, that's where I did my first solo performance with Steve Aoki, I came back as a judge, we did a lot of the auditions there, so I spent a lot of time there in me career but the only annoying thing is I fractured part of me arm on tour.

Jack: How did you do that?

Louis: Honestly the stupidest thing in the world, man. I decided about 12 months ago, I used to be quick when I was 18, a quick runner, decent sprinter, and I decided that I could still keep up with that pace. But I can’t. Anyway, I challenged someone to a race, and it's jsut... Honestly I ran into a wall. I sound ridiculous but the finish line was just too close to a wall and I’d just gone right into the wall and fractured me arm.

Jack: At the Olympics, they have a cushion in the end so they don't do that.

Louis: Next tour I’ll be investing in one of them, definitely!

Jack: Louis, legend! You know, 2 out 5

Louis, upsetti: Is not great, is it?

Jack: I think you know your fans well, I think you are just from tour

Louis: Yeah, that must be it, good lad!

Jack: Thank you so much for coming in tonight, rockstar, as always! Round of applause!

Louis: Thanks, as always.

Jack: Louis, one more thing before you go

Louis: yeap

Jack: I'm gonna give you a chance of redemption

Louis: I like it

Jack: Would you like to bring it (I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor) back?

Louis: One hundred percent, man!

Jack: YES! YES! It's been a long 3 years without the song, but finally!

Louis: [ha ha ha ha] Thanks again man, cheers!

[berlinini]

Louis mentioning Arctic Monkeys during Faith in the Future promo

Euphoria Magazine interview, Sept 1 2022:

The album immediately switches it up and dives straight into “Written All Over Your Face,” an infectious indie floor-filler that we both agree is reminiscent of the first two Arctic Monkeys albums. “I’m a big fan of that sound, big fan of that energy,” Tomlinson says. “I went into the room with these people I’ve done a few sessions with, and I said, let’s try and take this as punk as I can get away with. I suppose that’s where the Arctic Monkeys reference comes from; there are obviously punk elements within what they do.” At just two and a half minutes long, Tomlinson confesses it wasn’t a song he was trying too hard with. The aim was to create a “punchy energy,” declaring this was another song he could imagine performing live.

Alternative Press interview, Sept 6 2022:

That incorporation of dance melodies is something that erupts on “Out of My System,” a pulsating, punk-tinged Arctic Monkeys-inspired track that recalls the heyday of early aughts indie rock. The day Tomlinson made the track, he had been listening to “Teddy Picker” or “Dancing Shoes” (he can’t quite remember), but he knew exactly what kind of music he wanted to make. “I went in and said, ‘Let's try to write a song that is as punk as I can get away with,’” he recalls. And he led with that kind of intensity and energy from early Arctic Monkeys albums to craft the song. 

Interview for 98.5 KRZ, Sept 19 2022:

[What would your theme song be (a song that would play whenever you walked into a room)?]

I’ve got no idea. No idea! It’s almost like what would be a boxing walk out. Maybe Teddy Picker, Arctic Monkeys?

Jack Saunders Show on BBC Radio 1, aired Sept 25 2022:

Jack: Last time you were here, you were in 2019, [...] and we played this game, called "Keep or delete?". Do you remember what happened during that game?

Louis: Not specifically, I do remember the game.

Jack: Ok. Let's see if this docs your memory [replays the 2019 game which Louis says he would get "delete" Arctic Monkeys' "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor"]

Louis: I must've turned up drunk that day, I must have, honestly. That's a crime! What was The Strokes song? What was it again? Did you know? (...) It's a though pick, but I don't imagine why I picked that? "I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor" is a super nostalgic song for me, to be fair.

(...)

Jack: [The chorus is] the first thing that I thought when I listened to [Bigger Than Me]. I was like 'This chorus feels so big'. For you, those kinda of like big and kinda of indie choruses that you think about, what comes to mind? The ones that you always hammer or sing along? That kinda of thing...

Louis: You know what, the irony is the first thing that comes to me mind in terms of a chorus that I can remember singing, is ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’, which I cancelled the last time I was here, like an idiot!

Jack: [laughs] I'm not surprised, man, that is essential, a banger, isn't it?

Louis: It is, it is!

Jack: You worked with [producer] Mike Crossey on this one (...) Now, look, I've got a list of the credentials to display. He's worked with [lists artists] Arctic Monkeys - you can tell Mike you got rid of one of his songs--

Louis: No, no, I didn't, I didn't !

(...)

Jack: Louis, one more thing before you go (...) I'm gonna give you a chance of redemption

Louis: I like it

Jack: Would you like to bring [I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor] back?

Louis: One hundred percent, man!

Billboard.com interview, Nov 11 2022:

11. What’s your favorite album to listen to from top to bottom?

AM [by] Arctic Monkeys has got to be up there. Probably [their] Favourite Worst Nightmare, as well. Those two albums were absolutely massive for me growing up, so yeah, let’s go with them. Trying to think of a more recent one. The Snuts’ debut album, I absolutely loved. I loved their follow up as well. 

LADbible TV Ask the Audience, aired on Nov 11 2022:

[If (you) were part of another band (which one would it be)]

It’s an hard question to answer, really. I mean, I fucking love Arctic Monkeys, just down the road from where I’m from, Sheffield.

Afterglow on Pandora, aired Nov 12 2022

On his musical influences

Growing up, as you’re kind of forming your opinions on different songs, artists, genres. For me, growing up in the north of England, guitar music was absolutely massive with the likes of Arctic Monkeys, Oasis, etc.

[fruitcoops]

Have we had Coops do this one yet? if I've sent this before I'm sorry, I don't remember

That’s adorable! And don’t worry, it’s the first time I’ve seen it ❤️ Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“What are we doing?” Sirius asked as Remus leaned away from the phone and sat crosslegged opposite him.

“You’re not allowed to kiss me.”

Sirius’ whole face fell. “What?”

“Not—” Remus paused to laugh and patted his knee. “Just for a minute, don’t worry. The point of the game is that the first person to kiss the other loses. The winner gets to pick the movie tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” His voice was laced with audible relief, and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of Remus’ mouth.

“Well, you just lost.”

“We haven’t started!” Sirius protested. “That was a test run. A kiss for the road.”

“Oh my god,” Remus muttered as he shook his head, though a faint blush rose to his cheeks. “Alright, ready?”

“Ready.” Silence fell between them; Remus scooted closer, and the tips of Sirius’ ears turned pink as he bit his lower lip. He let out a shaky breath. “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

Remus shifted so their knees were touching on one side—miraculously, Sirius didn’t break eye contact, and he steeled his expression into a game face. “There’s no puck drop here, baby.”

“Shush, I’m concentrating.”

“Yes, captain.”

Sirius’ focus broke into a pleading pout and Remus grinned. “That’s so not fair!”

“I’ve been waiting two weeks to watch National Treasure with you.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and looked up with a slight smirk, just enough for his dimples to pop.

“Have you?”

“Mhmm.”

Mischief flickered through grey eyes and Sirius tilted his chin to the side, then moved close enough that their noses touched. Remus’ sly smile fell away in an instant; he nearly went crosseyed as he glanced down at Sirius’ lips. “You’re watching a documentary about Puerto Rican iguanas with me tonight, and you’re gonna like it,” Sirius practically purred.

Remus swallowed hard, obviously torn between moving away and getting closer. “You know I don’t like their tails. They look like snakes.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Yes, they d—god damn it!” Sirius moved closer at the perfect moment—as Remus spoke, their lips brushed together. Remus jerked backward and frantically wiped his mouth as Sirius cackled. “That doesn’t count! It wasn’t a kiss, I was just talking!”

“Lips on lips, loser!” Sirius pumped both fists in the air in triumph.

“I was so close to winning,” Remus groaned, flopped onto his back.

“You were never going to win that.”

“I totally was.” He turned his face toward Sirius and stuck his lower lip out. “Can we watch National Treasure tomorrow?”

“You can watch it with Lily.” Sirius bent down and pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek. “Then you two can nerd out in a contained environment.”

“Says the man who just used his free movie pass to watch a documentary about lizards.”

Sirius kissed his temple. “Worth it.”

[pixiedust-designs]

Too early

(This is ™️ anon, i dunno if you can see my email address but please don't show it, please just copy + pqste post this if it does. I just don't want to have that shown since i don't want to be known as anything here other than ™️! Thanks!) ALSO I HOPE THIS IS GOOD!!! Dream Team: Human:Dream Tinies/Borrowers: George + Sapnap Hurt/Comfort Noms warning: noms, migraines, bad mental health??? - It was unnaturally quiet in Dream's room. Most of the time a fan would be on, or music softly playing from a speaker, or a youtube video on his phone cradled in his hands. But as Sapnap helped George get on top of the bedside table where they usually met up with Dream in the mornings they were greeted with their giant friend wrapped tightly in blankets, eyes open but staring blankly. “Dream?” The eyes closed before reopening and moving to settle on them, still slightly unfocused, but it was only noticeable to them because they were looking for it. A low hum came from the human as he shifted to free a hand from the entangled cloth and reached over to them. Even in this odd state he held it as a platform, not grabbing them even though the two borrowers had long since formed enough trust to let him. Sapnap frowned at the behavior, before stepping on and sitting down, pulling George beside him to help his, still terrible, balance. Dream smiled and let out a soft noise as he brought them up to his face. “What's wrong big guy?” Sapnap asked, pushing a hand against Dream’s cheek. “Patches get your tongue?” He joked, grinning as it was rewarded with an eyeroll and a gentle bump from the human’s pointer finger. “Migrane probably.” Sapnap glanced at George who was leaning tiredly against Dream's pointer finger. “Mmm, yeah.” Dream’s voice rumbled around them, still thick with sleep. “I don't feel like getting up, my entire brain hurts, and words are hard.” Sapnap hummed. “Have you taken anything yet?” Dream nodded slightly. “Yeah, I'm still not- ugh.” He huffed before twisting as he rolled onto his stomach, careful not to jostle either of them. “They didn't do much.” Sapnap and George righted themselves from the movement, Sapnap standing up and climbing back up to Dream's face. “Have you eaten anything? That usually makes the medicine work better right?” He watched Dream's expression twist almost inperceptivally in guilt. He sighed. “Dream.” The human cringed a bit at the disappointed tone. “I didn't feel like getting up. Um... I drank some water?” He offered with a small smile, only to falter at the flat look from both of his tiny friends. “George, c’mon.” Dream blinked as Sapnap walked back to his hand and pulled George to his feet. “No, Patches is out, don't go into the kitchen now.” Dream protested quietly only to pause as the two climbed up to his face. “Wha-” He went silent in shock as Sapnap put an arm into his open mouth, effectively making him stop talking. Sapnap sighed as he leaned against Dream's nose, causing the human to go crosseyed. “We know about Patches idiot, besides I think George is about to pass out. You’ll feel better with something in you, and we get a warm place to nap and you can let Patches in here too.” Dream paused, mulling over the proposal before softly pushing Sapnap's arm out so he could speak. “Are you sure? I don't know if I will get up anytime soon.” Sapnap smiled, patting his giant friend’s nose. “It's fine, I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't. We trust you, idiot. Besides-” Sapnap yawned. “I could do with more sleep, and this is a good excuse.” Dream hummed, eyes landing on George who also yawned, waving off Dream's concerned look. “Yeah what Sapnap said. ‘M still tired.” Dream smiled. “When aren't you, George?” Slowly he curled his hand around the two and moved them up to his mouth. “Alright, I'll be quick then.” “No worries man, now open up.” Sapnap snickered as he pushed playfully against Dream's bottom lip. He let out a quiet yelp as the lips parted and he fell face-first onto a waiting tongue. “DREAM!” A laugh echoed from the human as lifted his tongue and pulled Sapnap further into the warm cavern, carefully keeping him away from his teeth. Sapnap relaxed into the muscle as the area went dark as Dream slowly closed his teeth then his lips, encasing Sapnap fully. Sapnap felt the vertigo as Dream tilted his head slightly to the right, asking if he was still okay with it. A soft smile formed on Sapnap as he gave the tongue a soft pat, being sure to avoid touching the roof of the mouth as that was the opposite of his answer. A low excited hum echoed around him as he was then gently turned about and covered in saliva to ease the descent for both him and Dream. After a bit he felt the tongue flatten, letting him lie down in the way he wanted to go down, and with a grin he lined his feet up with the gaping throat. As he settled he felt Dream tilt his head back in the final question. And seconds after Sapnap patted the tongue beneath him he laughed as Dream threw his head back and swallowed, almost swallowing him in one try as he felt Dream's hand pressing gently against him on the outer side of the flesh. He held his breath as he felt the constriction around his legs before he fell into the soft chamber that is his best friend’s stomach, noting the walls were tense, likely because Dream was actually just ignoring his hunger because of his migraine. He moved and began rubbing at the walls, hearing his friend let out a low sigh as the stomach relaxed, eventually grumbling as it untensed under Sapnap's hands. Content with his work Sapnap pressed into one of the walls, unabashedly snuggling into the smooth, almost silky flesh. Just as he was about to doze off, another weight fell into the stomach. Silently Sapnap grabbed George's arm and pulled him over, hugging his other best friend close as a happy hum echoed soothingly around them. There was a bit of shifting from all three as Dream leaned up to open his door, letting Patches in who curled up in his arms. Dream pulled his covers up again, resting a hand on his stomach and feeling the weight of his best friends there, only to hold back a laugh as Patches curled up there and began to purr as he alternated between petting her and rubbing at his friends. From within, Sapnap and George shared a laugh at the purr softly vibrating around them before they settled against Dream's rubbing, pushing back to let him know they were alright. Before dozing off, Dream smiled as he realized his head hurt much less

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

k.taehyung/reader 

genre: arist!taehyung, painting!reader, parallel/horror universe

warning(s): violence, mannequins+paintings coming to life (bc ppl are scared of that), blood- but like red paint instead, horror/dread/action elements (i tried okay), bittersweet 

words: 20.3k 

One-shot | Two-shot | Series | Drabble | [Rated: Pg:15] 

Loosely based on Ib, an RPG Horror/Adventure game + Leia (Vocaloid)

synopsis: Taehyung, a freelance, abstract artist is in the middle of one of the worst art blocks known to mankind.  In an act of possible inspiration, he drags his best friend, Namjoon, to a new art gallery just opened.  Only, he didn’t know that his visit would result in him getting separated from his friend and thrust into a new gallery.  One he wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. Along with this mysterious new gallery, a collection of strange creatures lurking around every corner came with the unsettling territory. 

a/n: i literally started this in March of 2019.... I have no excuse for the wait other than my bad.  Regardless, Colorblind is FINALLY done and out! It’s obvs waayyy longer than I intended it to be back in 2019 when I could only pump out like 9k at max- it’s over double that now LOL. But that hopefully aint gonna stop y’all (pls, lmk what you thought/thnk, i’m so anxious about this one alsdjf)

“Here you are, gentlemen.  Enjoy your visit to the gallery,” the receptionist at the counter smiled as she would to anyone.  Handing over two pamphlets to the two men who stood in front of her.  One was dressed in white track pants, two stripes running down the legs.  A white, collared, button-up shirt with a tie exceptionally loose around his neck with a blue, track jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeve, matching his track pants.

The other man wore loose black pants around his hips.  A black and white vertical striped, sleeveless jersey with three buttons on the collar with a red cap placed backward on his faded orange-haired head.  

These two men were two Kim’s. Taehyung and Namjoon.  Taehyung works as a self-employed, freelance artist; throwing and brushing paint over a canvas in random ways and creating objects and places for his mind to be free in abstract ways.  Namjoon is a humbled journalist for a local news blog for his exceptional wording and phrasing on all sorts of topics.  

Taehyung had come to the new gallery opening not too far from his home in search of inspiration.  He had been in a bit of a slump lately, and with nothing to do and nothing worthwhile happening, he was desperate.  Namjoon tagged along because he was tasked with the job of writing a review of the new establishment and creating a small article to include in the next online publication.

“Welcome to the grand opening of The Gallery of Leia!”

Taehyung mumbled to himself as he read the title of the pamphlet given to him.  “Why Gallery of Leia?” He questioned the name as the receptionist answered promptly.

“Leia is the one surviving piece of an artist from way back when that survived a brutal fire.  In honor of its survival, the gallery was named as such.”  She said with a smile as Taehyung nodded and nudged Namjoon’s arm, who stood next to him.

“Let’s go,” he said as he walked inside, not trying to stick around for more conversation and holding up the line of people also trying to gain entry inside. Namjoon following him as he quickly scanned a the front of the pamphlet.  

The gallery was two stories in a decent squared size building.  It was quite the exercise trip in Taehyung’s opinion.  Sculptures were placed against walls or out in the open for rotational viewing pleasure.  Paintings and sketches were hanging, littering the walls for guests to see clearly.  All the different pieces from all sort of artists featured here was amazing, such a wide variety as Taehyung’s eyes scanned the names.  Some familiar, some not.

“Wow, this place is pretty busy,” Namjoon said as he looked around. Namjoon had pulled out a tablet from his side bag, turning on the large touch screen as he took the pen attached to the side of it and opened up a program for taking notes as he started scribbling.  Taehyung peeked over his shoulder.  

“You haven’t even seen any art yet.  Why are you already jotting stuff down?”  

“It’s always good to start an article with how packed or how empty a place is.  The more people there, the more popular or interesting to the masses it is, which normally leads to more pros than cons.  It’s like a first look into how interesting it may or may not be.”  He rambled off like he’s answered the question a million times.  Taehyung nodded with pouted lips.

“You’re such a workaholic.”  Namjoon rolled his eyes at the remark, placing the pen between his fingers as he held his tablet and lowered it to his side.

“Let’s go look around.” The gallery itself, aside from the art pieces inside it, was stark white.  White ceilings to match the white walls and tiled flooring in yet more, polished white.  The lights weren’t as strong as one would think for a gallery, but if they were any brighter the receptionist would need to hand out complimentary sunglasses along with pamphlets because of all the lights bouncing off and around from the white  interior.

Namjoon was busy looking at a large-scale sculpture of a red rose as Taehyung wandered around not too far from him.  He turned down a hall that was surprisingly void of any warm bodies. He was surprised to find an area that hadn’t been cluttered with people yet.  Though, he assumed it wasn’t all that odd considering the early morning hour.  

Along the left wall was a large, long canvas, easily engulfing a vast majority of the wall itself.  It also happened to be the only piece in this dead-end corridor.

Taehyung stood in front of the painting as he looked over it.  Trying to see each and every detail.  He was in awe of the detail and how much time it must have taken to even complete such a large painting.  The dedication and time served to it was admirable.

The painting gave off an eerie vibe.  A dark background with what seemed to be the space of a studio, a spacey and wide studio with canvas’s on walls, frames hanging, paints and easels littering the space leaking into a greater mass of a space with even more dark, distorted art. As he continued to look at it, he stopped to blink, reset his eyes and rub at them so he didn’t go crosseyed and get dizzy.

As Taehyung gazed at the whole of the masterpiece, Namjoon strode up to him.  He whistled lowly in an impressed awe.

“Damn. That's one dedicated, dead painter.”  He walked to the plaque underneath the frame, kneeling so he could read the title of the particular piece aloud.  “Parallel Reality. Painted in 1996 by-” he couldn’t finish because the hall suddenly darkened.  Namjoon and Taehyung both looked at the ceiling and the flickering lights before they blacked out completely. Leaving the room dark and quiet.

“A blackout?” Taehyung questioned. Namjoon stood up, walking back over to his friend.  

“We should go back to the front desk.”  Taehyung nodded as the two of them began the journey back, stepping carefully and squinting to make sure they wouldn’t run into any sculptures or walls.  All the while, never once running into another person.  In fact, the entire gallery was completely silent besides their footsteps.

“Where is everyone?”  Taehyung asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  

“I’m sure they’ve all gathered outside.  No point in staying in a dark gallery.”  The two made it to the front glass doors.  “It’s… dark outside?”  Taehyung looked out through the glass doors.  “It was just noon?”  Namjoon shook his head, pulling on the door, but the door refused to open.  “It’s locked!”  He grunted, yanking again, pushing and pulling on the door.  Nothing.  Namjoon sighed as he turned to Taehyung.  “Go look around, maybe someone is still here.  In the meantime, I’m going to try and get this door open.”

Taehyung nodded before he turned and walked back into the gallery.  The halls still dark, every window showing nothing but a dark, deep navy outside.  He walked to a window to look outside, maybe get a glimpse of what was going on.  But, nothing.  

He turned and walked away, but jumped when he heard someone banging on the glass of the window he had just left.  Running back, he could just barely make out the imprint of a wide handprint on the outside of the glass.  It made a chill run up Taehyung’s back. 

For a moment, he assumed it was Namjoon who had gotten out and was getting his attention to run to the front and get out.  So, he did, dashing to the entrance and when he didn’t see Namjon around any longer, he tried the door.  Still locked.  

He hissed as he whipped back around and went back to the window before he shook his head. As he walked around the gallery further, his eyes began adjusting to the darkness and eventually he was even able to make out some of the art pieces again.  

A painting of a black cat.  One of a man hanging upside down by his ankles.  A basket of fruit that he swore use to have an apple included in the basket.  The back of a woman dressed in nothing but red.  

He felt like he was walking in circles. More than ready to head back to just sit at the front until someone came- since someone had to at some point, he heard another set of footsteps.  At first he thought it may be Namjoon coming back to find him; however, the footsteps were too light to be his friends- he always was a bit of a heavy stomper. Taehyung turned and headed towards the steps as they seemed to move further from him instead of towards him.  

“Hey!”  He called into the echoey halls of the dark gallery. The steps halting momentarily before they started running.  So, Taehyung sprinted after them.  “Where are you going?!”  He yelled as he ran into an open, large venue.  He looked around as he ran, seeing no one around.  “Where are you?!”  He shouted before he stepped in a puddle.  No, not a puddle.  A puddle would only be an inch or two deep.  It surely wouldn’t be enough to engulf him entirely.  

Now, Taehyung was sinking.  Drowning slowly into the Abyss of the Deep before the lights flicked back on and the murmurs of people resumed.

-x-x-x-

When Taehyung woke up, his head was throbbing, his mind was fuzzy and his conscience more than a little confused.  Laying on his chest on the floor like a jersey-dressed starfish, he groaned as he pushed himself up to support his torso on his elbows.  His hair was messier than before as his bangs threatened to poke his eyes.  Looking back and forth, he was in a hallway.  The corridor was dark, a hint of purple and indigo surrounding the entire room.  Walls, carpet, ceiling everything was the same shade of purple.

Obviously, the polar opposite than the pure white of everything previously.

Rolling onto his back and pushing himself to stand, he wobbled as he held his head and tried to will away the headache that was beginning to slowly lessen.  

Going backward before trying to even round the corner down the way, he found a single wooden door at the dead-end of the hall.  Twisting the knob, he entered the small room.  The room was square, red and on the back wall was a single large painting of a woman.  Her eyes were closed and her face was blank.  Her hair was somehow painted off the canvas, down past the frame and onto the wall like it was real hair falling out of the portrait.  

In front of that portrait was a single small wooden table with a vase.  In that vase was a single, blue rose.  A rose with 10 large, vibrant petals and a vine that lacked thorns.  Taehyung had never seen a blue rose before- well, not a real, authentic one anyways. Everyone’s seen the fake, painted blue, red, pink, yellow, purple and whatever other color roses in dollar stores before. Thinking it was manmade, he examined it further, putting his hands on the table to close inspect.  He became far more interested in the flower the more he looked at it.  

It drew him in.  The color captivated him and the aura around it seemed almost important and he felt the slightest urge to pick it up.  Maybe he should, maybe it would be fine.  Reaching out slowly, he drew the rose from the vase and something akin to a jolt of electricity ignited his fingertips. It felt like he had somehow forged an instant connection with this flower as soon as the end of the vine left the crystal clear water of the vase.

Call him crazy, but he almost felt fearful of putting it back and leaving it behind.

The vase on the table cracked as Taehyung’s attention shifted to it from the rose.  Crack after crack spread on the vase before it burst into pieces.  Taehyung hunched backward to shield his face with his arms from the exploded glass.  Shards of glass sat on the table and fell to the floor as the water pooled around the wooden surface and continued to spread as it began to drip off the table’s edge onto the carpet.

“I guess, I’ll take it along.”  He muttered to himself as he turned his back.  As he exited the room, he failed to notice the woman’s portrait shift.  Her eyes opened wide- almost insane- as she smiled.  PItch black paint writing appearing under her frame in smeared text.  

WHEN THE ROSE WILTS, SO TOO WILL YOU WILT AWAY

Taehyung left the room and the hallway he returned to had changed from what he last remembered. There were random letters on the ceiling and floor, spelling something that Taehyung couldn’t make out in the dark hall.  At his feet, he felt himself kick at something when he moved to step forward.  Picking it up, he held a small blue key in his palm.  

Going further down the hall, he came to a forked path.  He could continue going down the hall or take the staircase he that presented itself to him.  The stairs lead up higher than he could see with two paintings on either side of the entrance. Two landscapes of a mountain range; one normal and the other an identical copy, only negative scaled.  Coming to a decision, he took the hall just to cover the ground floor.  Coming to just another dead end, he returned and took to the stairs up.  

At the top of the stairs was a door.  Trying it, it was locked. 

“Naturally,” he huffed.  Trying the key he had kicked with his shoe and picked up not too long ago, it fit perfectly and unlocked the door as he stepped through it.  The door slammed shut and locked on it’s own behind him.  The key becoming useless since their was no keyhole on this side of the door.  He dropped it, leaving it behind. 

He was in a library now.  It was a small room, maybe not even considered a library.  Just a room with bookshelves and books.  Like a compact study without a desk.

He didn’t recognize a lot of the books- which was surprising considering he did have a liking for reading.  He stopped scanning his fingers over the spines of books when among all the thick, sophisticated books was a tiny, thin spine of a bright red children's book.

Pulling it out from it’s snug place on the shelf, he held it in his hands.  It was a short, wide book with a picture colored very messily in what he could only assume was crayon on the cover of it.  Sitting on the ground, his back against the bookcase, he opened it’s thick, card-stock, wobbly pages.

The book was about a painter.  He had been painting his whole life, so long in fact that he started to blend his world with reality.  He would give his paintings ‘life’ and he’d treat them like they were truly alive.  In his mind, they were his friends.  

A painting of a lion toy no bigger than the size of a book, stills of sentient objects like a fan, and even paint brushes contained souls with a conscience and mind to this painter. Even a can of pressurized air that would ‘bully’ or tease the others when they least expected it was ‘alive’, leaving the painter to rip that painting of air up for it’s rotten behavior.

It ends with the painter creating a portrait of someone, something he wasn’t familiar with painting.  People weren’t his strong suit and as such, he was left in isolation for most of his life. His devotion to painting left him alone in reality because he ‘saw’ nothing else.  Thus, he created his own friend in a painting of a woman that didn't exist.  When she ‘came alive’ he even grew to fall in love with her.  The last few pages of the story were torn out, so Taehyung would never know the ending.  

“Who would fall in love with something they knew was fake?  Something painted would never come alive,” he muttered.  Considering the painter in the story to be an utter fool.

Taehyung suddenly jumped, children’s book sliding off his legs and snapping shut as the door to his left unlocked with a loud clack.  He slowly got up, picking the book back up taking it with him as he put it back on the shelf.  The door that unlocked started to whine.  The handle was rusty sounding as something from the outside started turning it.  

In a very logical fit of panic, Taehyung rushed and grabbed the thickest book he could find and held it at the ready.  Absolutely ready to whack whatever weirdo came into this room, knock them out (with luck), restrain them and then question where the hell he was. That, or a hit and run would work too.  He’d figure out which suggestion when the time came in a few moments.

The turning of the knob halted.  Stopped for so long that Taehyung thought whatever it was had gone away.  Lowering his book, he squinted his eyes at the door.  It was quiet, all he could hear was his breathing with the occasional nervous gulp of his.  

There was only but another beat of silence before chaos erupted.  

The door busted open, nearly ripping off it’s handles.  Taehyung, with a short, shocked scream, stumbled back as two things threw themselves into the room.  One was a woman, or rather half a woman.  Long brown hair cascaded down her head and her torso was decked in a red turtleneck.  Her face had a twisted demeanor etched into what would probably be a beautiful face otherwise.  From her waist down was nothing but a picture frame.  Her lower half didn’t exist and was replaced with a black void background and frame with gold edges.  It was like some horror effect that dragged around behind her everywhere she crawled. 

The second was an actual woman.  Legs, arms, chest and all.  Dressed in ruined overalls, a long sleeved white shirt with yellow stripes up the arms.  Tacky, torn brown boots on her feet as she stomped and kicked away at the woman in the frame.  She was wielding... a stick?  Or what looked like what may be part of what was once another picture frame.  End jagged and just asking for someone to get a nasty splinter.

The woman in the frame hissed at her like a dog as her clawed hands moved to drag her across the floor towards the actual woman’s legs.  The framed lady moved faster than Taehyung imagined was possible.  Dragging her half body across the floor and slithering with an absurd amount of grace like a snake.

The lady in the frame latched onto the woman’s leg causing her to in turn repeatedly kick at the frame’s head with her opposite foot.  The frame screamed as she was kicked against a bookshelf.  Books fell, toppling onto the frame as she screeched.  However, her insistent screeching silenced when the real woman took the jagged end of the broken frame she wielded and thrust it into the frames exposed and vulnerable head.

Red ‘paint’ erupted from the frame like a fountain before it became completely limp.  The woman shook the frame piece around, whipping it like a sword after a battle to remove the blood of the slain.  Then, the woman looked over her shoulder at Taehyung. He froze in place, his shoulders jumping at him finally being noticed.

Your eyes widened as they locked onto Taehyung’s. Shocked to see him there.  Your eyes were an unusually bright colored abyss with such a dull contrasting look in them.  He wasn’t sure if he could even see his reflection if he were standing right in front of you.  

You gasped lightly as if being hit with some sort of realization before turning to face him fully. Even if you were a good 10 feet from him he flinched. More than a little bit intimidated with you still holding your broken frame piece and witnessing you pretty much kill what he would label a Feminine Frame Monster.

“You’re the one everyone is looking for…” You muttered to herself.  There was a commotion beyond the door that was hanging pathetically onto its frame.  From down the hall, scraping and screeching were heard in a humming echo. You looked over your shoulder before you moved towards Taehyung, looking at him and grabbing his bicep with little hesitation. You yanked his arm to signal that you were clearly going to be ordering him around.

Taehyung felt like a doll being pulled around by a child.  You were shorter than he expected for someone who just took out a monster as he peered over your head, like a child standing as high as possible to peek out a window. Your grasp on him loosened as you moved to grab his wrist instead.  You pulled him slightly again, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in as he finally looked at you again.

“We need to go.  More of them are coming, and unless you want to end up painting fodder, you’ll follow me.”  He looked down at you as you finally noticed the rose peeking out of his jacket pocket.  You gasped, pointing at it with your other hand that whipped around the red stained frame piece.  “Hide that!” You seethed as Taehyung’s hand immediately shoved itself into his pocket to cover the rose before she began to run out of the room, Taehyung in tow; against his will, might he add.

The halls he was being dragged through were inconsistent and almost gave him a headache. First running through purple halls, then red filled with empty black picture frames.  Zooming through green halls that had arms shooting out of them, claws skimming over Taehyung’s jacket and reaching for his rose.  He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his chest to keep it safe from anyone- thing- trying to grab it.  Finally, your running came to a stop as you swung open a door before shoving him by his shoulder. You slammed the door securely shut before locked it.  

When the door was shut, Taehyung took a moment or two to look around as he tried to regain his breath.  

He was in a blue room now.  Two bookshelves with almost nothing on them and a small table next to a violet couch.  The table held a cerulean vase on it with water filled inside almost to the point it overflowed.  On the back wall was only one giant frame with a pure white puzzle glued one the inside of it.

“A milk puzzle?” He questioned more to himself than anything else. You sighed when it was quiet and then collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor.  Catching Taehyung’s attention, he panicked as he ran to your side, kneeling beside you and debating on whether or not he should put his hand on your shoulder. You panted and pushed your forehead against the door. Hair hiding your face as it hung, falling off your heaving shoulders. “Are you.. Alright?” Taehyung asked slowly- cautiously.

You only nodded as you finally caught your breath.  Sitting up straighter, taking one last breath to even your breathing before you finally looked up at Taehyung.  He knelt higher than your head level as he confirmed that he indeed couldn’t find his reflection in your eyes he stared into.

“You’re the intruder that everyone is looking for in the Gallery, aren’t you?” She questioned.  He blinked in confusion.  

“Intruder?”

“You don’t belong here and you need to get out of here as soon as you can.  This isn’t a place for someone like you.” Taehyung wasn’t understanding anything.  You held your hand out towards him, almost asking for something.  “Your rose. You still have it right?” He nodded as he showed the rose he still held cradled to his chest. He was thankful the vine was thornless, or else his palm would have been riddled with small, painful punctures. 

For some reason, he felt like his rose would be safe with you, so he easily handed it over. You took it and looked over it’s petals.  Admiring the shade of blue, you shifted her gaze to look from beautiful azure petals and into Taehyung’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” You asked.

“Taehyung,” he answered instinctively. You nodded at the sound of it, committing it to memory. “Yours?” 

“I’m Y/n,” you curtly told him as you lifted the rose back into the conversation.  “Do you know how important this rose is?” He shook his head.  You sighed as you moved to face him fully, sat relaxed on the floor. Lifting your arm to bring you opposite hand to touch one of the petals your fingertips dusted around a single soft petal.  You held it with delicacy before your grip changed and your nails gripped and plucked it off the stem.  

Taehyung gasped, a pain shooting through his chest as his hand flew up to grip his shirt. His one-knee kneeling position changed as both knees hit the carpet. 

It felt like his heart just skipped a beat and almost seemed to stall for a moment.  Shaken up, he wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost harder to breathe?  Air came more difficult to take and his energy felt zapped.  The one petal you had pulled off fluttering to the ground at his knees.

You plucked another one, the second petal fluttering to the floor to join the first.  More pain shot through him again as he found himself bracing himself forward, the hand that wasn’t clenching around the front of his shirt, falling in front of him to join his knees on the carpet.  It felt like someone was wrapping a rope around his chest and squeezing the life out of him.  Crushing his ribs and lungs suffocating him.

“What,”  he gasped, “are you doing... to me?” He sputtered as he coughed.  He heard you move before you were at his back, picking him up and bringing him weakly to his feet.  You practically dragged him to the couch, his feet dragging on the carpet the whole way before he fell into the cushions.  

As you stood over him, you pluck another two petals off and he let out small, silent coughs of protest. Whatever you were doing, he was ready for you to stop. He really thought he was dying. 

“Watch,” you told him as the dark bags under his eyes materialized.  You walked to the crystal water-filled vase.  Taking his rose that had lost four petals already, you placed the stem over top of the vase and dropped it inside.  The stem hit the water and immediately Taehyung’s eyes widened as he watched the petals regrow right before his eyes.  

The rose seemed to glow with a calming, almost reassuring, blue hue for but a moment before the pain in his body stopped.  The pangs of hurt disappeared from within his eyes as he let go of his chest and the pain faded.  It was like the pain was just a hallucination.  You slowly withdrew the rose from the vase and handed it back to him as you move to stand in front of him. He had moved from laying in pain on the couch to sitting himself up properly.

Taehyung gently took the rose from you.  “When the rose wilts,” you start.

“So too will I…” Taehyung finishes, unsure on how he knew how to finish the phrase. It was like it was just engraved on his tongue as he said it. The dawning realization that this flower was tied to his life grew into his mind as he spun it between his thumb and forefinger.  “But, I-I don’t understand.”  He shook his head.  You moved to sit beside him, ready to answer whatever questions he has.  “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in the gallery.”

“No,” he denied curtly, lifting his hand in denial.  “I was in the gallery.  Now, I’m here.”

“You were in the real gallery.  Somehow, you got sucked into this one.  The gallery you were in isn’t where you are now and frankly I don’t know how you got here.  This is a fabricated reality created from a man’s paintbrush.  A human shouldn’t be able to come here.” You got up and grabbed a small, face down picture frame from the top one of the small, dusty, bookshelves.  Bringing it back with you to the couch, you handed it to him.  

Taehyung recognized the man in the photo. “I know this artist. He died a long time ago.” Though his name escaped the young artist.  

“Guena. That’s the pen name he used in his profession.” You looked around at the small room.  “This room, and all the other rooms too.  Every painting and creature here was created by him and his desire to create souls for his non-living creations,” you told him. “But, things are different now. Everything is distorted,” you scowled.  

Just like the picture book he found.  The creations were given life by the hands of the creator then the creator died, leaving all of his ‘lives’ behind.  If that were so, then it would be no wonder why everything would begin to fall apart. It was akin to a circus without a Ring Master. Taehyung furrowed his brows before he placed the photo beside him on the cushions.

He looked up to you, into your dull eyes that somehow held the most breathtaking color.  

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“I’ve been here since the beginning and I will remain here until the end.”  

“Do you have a rose, like I do?” He felt like he knew the answer, but nonetheless less you shook your head.  He knew what he wanted to really ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it- what words should he use?  To you, who he had just met in the most fictional turn of events that he still can’t wrap his head around.  You were nothing like him and he knew that.

“I’m a painting, Taehyung.”

When you told him the truth he was already beginning to suspect, it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say he still internally panicked.  Something that looks so human, yet wasn’t at all.  You were nothing but brush strokes and shapes somehow given life.  You probably crawled straight out of a frame too.

You saw the emotion flash through his eyes and you were almost jealous of how his eyes could change.  Unlike yours that were stuck, his could tell you a whole story without the use of words.  Anyone in this place could tell immediately he was human because of those eyes. 

In respect to him and his unease, you made sure to keep your distance.  You truly weren’t a threat.  All you wanted was for him to get out, and to get out safely.  You’ve been watching your world fall apart since Guena died.  Every creature that was alive was losing their ‘mind’ and it was only a matter of time before it started to infect you too.  It was a disease that humans didn’t need to get involved in.

“I’m going to be your escort out of here.  With your lack of reaction when in the face of danger, you’d probably get yourself killed in an instant.”  You moved back to the door where you sat on the floor, you're back against the wood as you looked at him across the room on the couch.  “You rest for now and make sure to keep your rose safe with you.  This room is safe, so you don’t need to worry about something happening.”

Then, you stopped talking.  Taehyung almost felt guilty.  You were a painting, and you couldn’t show all the emotions that the could.  You weren’t actually real after all, so it was normal to assume you had a expressional limit.  He watched as you sat against the door completely silent and still with closed eyes.  He was unsure if you were really sleeping or if you even could.  

He looked at the rose in his hands.  This rose is so important and he didn’t know how to fathom what the hell was going on. It all happened too fast and he couldn’t begin to process it all. 

He missed Namjoon as he knew that he was probably still wandering around the real gallery looking for him. He wondered if Namjoon managed to get out since he wasn’t at the front or if the lights kicked back on and he was alright.  He lifted and looked at the photo of Guena beside him again.  

It was odd.  That was the man who somehow created this world and he was also the same painter who created Leia. The painting that gave the real gallery it’s name.  Taehyung never got to see that painting in the gallery- not that he was able too see much to begin with, and he’s not so sure he wanted to at the moment.  

Taehyung was a sympathetic and empathetic person- always had been and probably always will be.  The line between the two blurred in his case.  So, when he looked at you, he felt a sense of guilt as you kept away from him.  You spoke curtly, yet kindly.  You didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive and you seemed trustworthy enough; especially compared to that framed lady from before.  

You brought him here after all. A secluded room and you didn’t attack him or take his rose.  You plucked four petals off his rose, but then turned around and healed him. You even returned it, he knew it was all to prove the point of its importance.  You weren’t going to hurt him and he believed that with his whole heavy-beating heart.  

“Y/n? Are you sleeping?”

Your eyes remained closed, but you answered. “No. I can’t.  I’m a painting, remember?”

“Okay. Then, I have a question,” he said as you slid your eyes open.  Looking at him from your place by the door.  “That thing you killed?” Did you kill it? Could paintings die?  “What was it?”

“They’re called, The Ladies.”

“They? There’s more?” Taehyung’s voice slightly quivered at the idea of more hissing, hacking, floor-crawling, psycho half ladies being out there.  

You nodded.  “What you saw was only one of many Ladies.  She was a Lady in Red.  There are also Ladies in Green and Ladies in Blue.  They’re more common than most.  About as common as mannequins.”

“Excuse me? Mannequins?” You looked at him as a shiver ran up his body.  Goosebumps littered his covered skin.  “I fucking hate mannquins,” he seethed unconsciously to himself.  The look he put on his face was that of disgust and pure anguish and yet somehow twisted into an almost comical look.  You almost smirked at his foul language and facial cues.

Your smirk twisted and soon you burst out into laughter at his face that just seemed so comical to you.  A face someone like you couldn’t pull off because you were fake.  He looked at you as you laughed at him.  The tension that was in the air seemed to be shattered like a nail being driven into a pane of glass.  Soon, Taehyung was laughing at you laughing at him.  Your fit ended as you smiled and shook your head, calming down.  

Taehyung was more than happy to try and get a small nap in now that he knew that you weren’t completely devoid of emotion.  Someone, fake or not, who can laugh and smile like that surely wasn’t a bad person.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung was startled from his small rest when a tremor shook the room.  Panicking as he sat straight, rim-rod up, you were already on your feet and looking at the door.  You half expected something to charge inside, even when this place was supposed to be somewhere to rest up and be away from any sort of harm. Taehyung flung his legs off the sofa and stood up so quickly he had a wave of dizziness hit him as he held his head and staggered.  Shaking it off, he was at your side, standing just a step behind you.

“What the hell is that?” He lightly asked, like if he was too loud something would hear him.  You just flexed your arm, the hand around the hardened piece of art frame you kept continuing to wield tightening.  “It feels like the ground is moving,” he looked down at his feet.  Like the carpet beneath him was beating in microbursts.

“It’s a distortion wave.  This happens the weaker this world gets and that means it’s only going to get that much worse outside.” You looked at him. “I hope you have some strength in those arms of yours, because you might have to use it.” Taehyung hated the thought of violence, even if it was against figuratively inanimate objects that weren’t supposed to exist . They weren’t alive, but they were still able to die.  His toes curled at the thought of it. You saw the unease in his eyes before looked back at the door, rotating your wrist and twisting around your weapon. “Just stick close to me and run like your life depends on it.”

The lack of an additional ‘because it will’ was an approved choice on Taehyung’s ears.

You opened the door and outside it was a madhouse.  Even more paintings coming alive.  Some stuck in their frames as they clawed at the air and hissed.  Distorted in sharp and blurred strokes as they swiped.  Ghastly hands and objects plunged from walls and hung from the ceiling.  Mannequins moved far faster than previously and he could hear the hissing and scraping of frames on the floor from the Ladies as they drug themselves across the floor like lethal roaches.

You bolted out of the safe room, Taehyung hot on your heels as he stayed immediately behind you.  You dashed down halls, staying in the center away from the walls and anything reaching for you.  You kept Taehyung at your side, pulling him to and fro away from anything that could harm him if he got too close.  You rounded corners in rushed steps or slides as Taehyung occasionally grabbed the back of your overalls to keep you from skidding into the walls from your unstoppable momentum. You swung and hacked at anything that came close and kept them at bay the best you could with your frame.

Taehyung pointed ahead of you, a set of doors ahead.  

“Go into one of those!” He wasn’t sure where he got off telling you where to go. Especially since he was literally the worse qualified person to do so. You didn’t seem to argue back though, so he continued. “The, uh, the yellow one!” He yelled over the chaos.  You just looked back at him slightly over your shoulder, brows creased.

“Which one is the yellow one?!”  You shouted as he slightly stumbled before he grabbed your wrist and took off, running faster and ahead of you before he stopped at a door of brilliant yellow, pulled it open and pushed you inside, slamming it closed. The room was empty save for a single mirror on the back wall.  Thankfully, yellow seemed to be a pretty safe choice.

Taehyung could always trust yellow. 

“Y/n,” he called as he still held your wrist in his hand and you were hunched over.  You weren’t alive, but you seemed unwell.  “What’s wrong?” He looked at the skin under his hand that showed with the fabric of your long sleeve pushed up your wrist.  He gasped silently when he saw it’s complexion shift into a distortion of ugly, muddle colors before vanishing as quickly as it came.  “What was that?” He shook his head. “No, hold on.  Different question.  Can you not see color?”

“No, I can’t.” You stood back up, yanking your wrist out of his grip.  You looked at your skin as you hissed.  The distortion was starting to hit you and the stages would eventually progress into a problem- but he didn’t need to know that.  “I was painted as portrait by a lonely, selfish painters.  He didn’t think to give me the ability to see color so, I can’t see colors or tell them apart.” You shook your wrist out. “Is that a problem?” 

Taehyung jolted. You were clearly touchy on the topic. He cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, well not really . I guess if you have me, I can point out colors for the both of us.  Why didn’t you tell me you were colorblind though?  It would’ve been pretty useful to know before we started running for our lives through some fucked-up haunted house reality check.���

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” You sighed.  You had made it this far without relying on the colors you couldn’t tell apart.  Why would now be any different?  You couldn’t even see the color your body or clothes were- if they had color to them at all. For all you knew, you were all black and white and grey. You walked to the back wall and stood in front of the mirror there, frowning as Taehyung came up behind you.  He was as black and white as you were in your eyes.  

“So, you can’t see any color?” He touched his shirt, opened his jacket and pulled his headband.  He pulled your hair up dramatically and motioned to yourself as a whole in the mirrors reflection. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” you confirmed.  “I can conceive the idea of colors, but I’ve never had a proper need to see or tell them apart.  I know when something is a threat and I know when something is not. That’s all that really matters here.” Your indifference was something Taehyung- a painter- couldn’t comprehend.  What kind of painting can’t see their own colors? Wouldn’t that be painful or frustrating at the very least?

“Your shirt is yellow and white,” Taehyung spoke. You looked at his reflection with raised brows.  “Your overalls are faded and nearly ruined, but they’re dark blue and your boots are brown.  Your hair is really pretty and your eyes are too.” He described your outfit to you like you were a child, but he meant well. 

Just saying the color of your clothes didn’t help you grasp the concept of what it really looked like aside from the range of grey and white and black you saw through your eyes. “Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I thought you’d like to at least now,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” you told him quickly as you pulled at your sleeves, fixing and adjusting them to cover your arms properly again.  So, that light shade of grey- nearly white- was yellow? “I've never actually learned what color is what to my eyes,” you told him.  “It’s nice knowing at least one color,” you whispered more to yourself than anything.

So, it did bother you. Taehyung felt something swell like pride in his chest as he was acting the role of teacher.

If it were any other situation and if you were a person instead of a painting, he’d be glad to teach you all the colors he could. He felt it was his duty as an artist- freelance or not- to educate those about all the corners of art.  However, you weren’t real and he wasn’t at home in his studio, but in a haunted gallery of danger.  

Taehyung stepped away from you as he made his way back to the front of the room and the yellow door. He put his ear to the door, not hearing much of anything outside anymore. He hoped that you and he were able to give them the slip- as obvious as a tactic as that was. When he tried the doorknob, however, it didn not twist.  Jammed or locked, he knocked his forehead against the yellow wood in frustration.

“Of course,” he groaned before he turned to see you still standing in front of the mirror in the back of the room.  “Y/n, the door is locked. Unless we have another way out, we’re stuck in here.” He announced, making his way back to you as you seemed to finally break out of your own reflection and look around.  

“There’s got to be something we can trigger to open the door or another way out.  Just look around,” you told him.  You started wandering the room, but Taehyung only stood still, crippling his chin in thought and tapping his toes.  The room was completely empty, what could he possibly miss if nothing was in the room except a single, wall mounted mirror?

He thought of all the cheesy cliches like a floor tile trigger or a secret compartment in one of the four walls of ht boxed room.  However, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to test out those ideas. 

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own reflection that scowled back towards him in thought.  He scurried away from the mirror in a haste as he yelped when the glass cracked.  Splitting down the center in crooked, ugly cracks and small splinters of glass falling from the mirror.  Your ear picked up on the continuous cracking of the mirror’s glass, unlike Taehyung and before he knew what was happening, you were yanking on his shirt and jacket collar. He choked slightly at you pulling him away from it completely as it shattered.

Bursting from the inside out, glass shot forward before raining down to the hard tile of the room.  What was left behind wasn’t the wall behind the mirror, but a matte black door with a sign hanging on the center of it. 

‘PASSAGE’

“Is that our way out?” He asked skeptically as he stood back up and brushed off his clothes of any stray shards that clung to him.  Looking back, the yellow door you both had rushed through had disappeared.  Nothing, but this black door and the walls remained.  He huffed. “Guess that answers that, huh. Wha- hey!” He called as you had already started opening the black door to enter it.  “What if it’s dangerous in there?!”

“There’s no other option,” you told him, pushing the door open before stepping into the same, thick blackness the door represented.  “Stay here if you’re so scared,” you sarcastically teased as you stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, the artist was hot on your tail inside.

The two of you walked through the black hall that stretched from the door you both entered, Taehyung behind you as he grew in more in nerves.  There were no lights and the light front he doorway was long gone behind his back.  He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and he felt like he was losing his mind.

He could only hear your footsteps, his footsteps and the sound of your sharpened frame weapon dragging across the ground that you had taken from your belt loop as soon as the darkness became thick enough to warrant a twinge worry.

The air in the ever stretching corridor became so thick it was hard to catch his breath as he moved to grab your wrist for guidance.  Then, giggling began echoing from every direction.  Bouncing off what might be a nearby walls and drilling directly into his head. Giggling that mimicked creepy doll sound effects in horror movies, only so much worse. You, unsurprisingly, weren’t phased by the verbal taunts- Taehyung, however, was.

You could feel the trembles in his fingers around the wrist of yours he held so tightly.  You twisted your wrist, freeing it from his grasp for a moment and you could physically feel his panic the moment his fingertips left your skin. He was quick to calm down when you shot your arm back and grabbed around his hand instead.

Taehyung only grew more and more nervous as the darkness didn’t seem to end.  There was nothing in front of him or behind him to act as a beacon of any sort of hope that it would eventually come to a brightly lit finish.  Not even your presence he knew was there was any comfort to him.  It felt like the darkness was ebbing away at his sanity and choking him. 

In the midst of his silent anxiety, he thought he felt something whisper along the back of his neck.  He let out a small, strangled noise of startled protest as he unconsciously ripped his hand away and out of yours.  His panic set in tenfold now that he had no idea where you were anymore.  

He reached out in front of him in a frenzied panic as he waved his arms around in front of himself like a crazy person. He was sure if he was in light or if someone could see him, they’d think him completely bat-shit insane.  No matter where he reached or how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you. He couldn’t even hear you anymore.

Your footsteps were gone along with the frame dragging and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own hiccuped gasps of air.  A horrible humming filled his ears and he quickly brought his palms up to the sides of his head, covering his ears to try and block out the noise.  It only seemed to intensify though, as if he had cupped around the humming and shoved it directly against his eardrums.

His knees wobbled and his footing staggered before his knees finally hit the ground.  The hard ground that was below his feet changed the moment his knees collided with it.  

Water was running along the hard ground that now felt like tile. If he ran his fingers along the floor, he would be able to trace the groves of cement and glue holding the pieces of breakable flooring together. He wasn’t able to properly process it in the overwhelming state of mind he was currently becoming more and more trapped in.  

The water that seeped into his pants drew higher and higher before engulfing his knees, thighs and eventually coming to reach his waist. His hands stayed covered over his ears as he shuttered and shook his head back and forth- trying to chalk it all up as another nightmare.  He’d wake up on another couch any moment in a room that you had taken him too.  This was just his mind playing trick on him- wasn’t it? 

The humming grew louder and louder before it went completely silent. The shift in noise to nothing was too sudden; uncomfortably sudden.  He should be relieved that the horrible, horrible sound that drilled into his head had stopped, but he was only accompanied by the newfound silence with a chill running up his spine and staying in the base of his neck .

Taehyung couldn’t move.  He shook and trembled, waist deep in cold water.

Was this what insanity felt like? Was he really losing his mind?

Then he remembered.  He was finally able to move again when he remembered his rose.  The flower that was somehow keeping him up and kicking. He moved his hands from his ears and began to frantically pat around his body.  His chest, his hips and thighs. In and out of pockets. He couldn’t find it.  He thought he had already reached his maximum panic level, but he was oh so wrong.  

He lost his rose and he felt like he was near his breaking point.  He hated that it affected him so much in both a mental and physical sense. Taehyung had normally defined himself as a more or less tough person to break down in more cases. 

He hardly had time to adjust to the life threatening new world he found himself in with art coming to life to kill him. Not to mention that his life was tied to a blue flower and he was dependent on a painting for safety.  

Taehyung was literally walking through his own personal nightmare. Who wouldn’t start losing their marbles after all that? 

His ducked down head shot up when he thought he heard something drop into the flooded flooring. He swore he heard the water ripple as it sounded like someone was walking, or dragging their feet through the water.  The sound of moving water echoed and he couldn’t pinpoint from which direction whatever was around him was moving.  Then the water pushed up his legs like something pushed the water towards him and he froze again.

He felt a breath blow against his forehead, his hair blowing in small, annoying strands that tickled his eyebrows and forehead. Whatever was wading in the water beforehand, was now right in front of him.

His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out before the room erupted in bright lights.  He flinched under the extreme difference, the humming coming back to drill into his skull as fluorescent lights lined the ceiling above him.

When he was able to pry his eyes open, they glued themselves open at the sight of the creature in front of him.  It was… he couldn’t even begin to explain what it was.  

It looked like it had the basic shape of a person, but the limbs were far too long and lanky and it was engulfed in a thick looking, black tar that oozed and dripped from it’s appendages.  It’s head was also shaped like a humans, but turned completely sideways. The side of it’s head parallel with the floor as that same, thick blackness dripped from it’s chin that pointed directly to the left.  The mouth was nothing but a white circle in the middle of its face with black dripping between it’s ‘lips’ like jail bars.  

Whatever it was, it was horribly ugly and Taehyung thought his mind was distorting. The space around the creature seemed crackly- like tv static.  

The artist couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t flee.  He couldn’t even scream.  But it could. It could move, it could groan and moan, it could scream.  And it did.  

The mouth opened further into an elongated oval and a set of eyes showed themselves in small, crescents with the ends pointing to the left towards their chin on their crooked head.  The shrill shriek it let out made Taehyung’s bones rattle under his skin, like someone had just run a xylophone stick across his ribs.

It had brought it’s long, thin, dripping arms up as it seemed to ready lunge at the young, fear-stricken artist.  It screeched once more before it began to lunge, but it was immediately stopped in it’s tracks before it could do any sort of physical harm.  

The screech was cut short, as the head- in fact- the entire torso of the creature was pushed down by something.  It fell face first into the water at Taehyung’s knees as a long, golden strip of a picture frame stuck out of the back of it’s head.  

Red paint leaked out of the creatures head as it lay still and motionless in the water, dying the flooded area a shade of crystal pink. The smell wasn’t what he expected- what he expected to smell like iron, blood and death instead smelt of a flower shop, honey and lemonade.  The monster with a frame in the back of it’s head smelt like summer. 

Was it… dead?

Then he heard more footsteps, however with the lights on and eyes properly adjusted now, he could see exactly where they were coming from and who.  It turns out that somehow he had made it into a room- a small cube area that had no windows and only one door that was now thrown open.  Through that door, your body was slouched against the frame out of breath- once again ironic since you weren’t alive- and dripping blue drops of paint from your chin.

He was speechless- no longer from fear, but from shock.  

You wadded through the pink water to stand in front of him.  You turned to the creature you had just taken down by hurling your frame piece at it and quickly pulled the frame out.  Red spurt from the wound like a pathetic, paint-filled fountain. Before long, it was simply oozing and rolling off the skull of the creature into the water before it started to completely fade away like ash.

You looked back to Taehyung who had disappeared previously from your grasp and you knelt in front of him. Waving your hand in front of his face, he didn’t respond.  You looked down and around him to see his hand stuck on the inside of his jacket- like he had stopped looking for something mid-search.  

“Tae-”

“Rose,” he whispered urgently, interrupting you.  You gently dug into the small pouch you had on your side- where you got that, he wasn’t sure- and before a moment longer passed, blue petals were shown in his line of sight.  That seemed to finally start to snap him out of it.  “That’s my,” he whispered, the rest of his words dying on his tongue.

“You dropped it earlier when you let go of my hand,” you told him.  You gently took his hand from the inside of his jacket and placed the flower delicately inside his palm.  “You need to take better care of that if you want to get out of here.”

One, small tear fell from his eye before he was throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards him.  Your face fell into his shoulder as you felt him shake around you. You raised your arms tentatively and started to pat at his back awkwardly.  

“Don’t worry,” you shushed, as you stared at the back wall. You could hear the ashy pieces of the creature disengerate behind your back as his tremors quelled to shivers and soon he was still and his breath wasn’t ragged anymore.  He had calmed himself down as he squeezed you against his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

-x-x-x-

Once Taehyung was able to move again without shaking or fearing for his safety and he had properly calmed down, you led him out of the room he had been trapped in.  Going down another long hall with nothing but lights lining the walls, he briefly stopped at a plaque on the wall next to another door.  This door wasn’t colorful or odd- it looked so ordinary it stood out among the bright purple hall he stood in.

“Gallery ahead,” he muttered, reading aloud as the sighed at the plaque that had an arrow pointing ahead beyond the door.  

Opening the door, there was no noise and all was quiet.  Taehyung followed you as he looked around.  

True to the plaque, it really was just another portion of the gallery.  Proper paintings on the walls with names below it, statues sectioned off with rope and dividers, mantles with busts- it too looked like an authentic, ordinary gallery.  The door you both passed through shut with a soft click as he looked behind at it still jumpy from earlier on. He was thankful it didn’t slam at least.

The floors were tile and shining like they had just been cleaned and waxed.  The walls were covered in a boring, but oddly suiting wallpaper fit for an aged art gallery while chandeliers hung along the ceiling lighting the place in a soft, glowing light.

“This is a nice break from the rest of the place,” Taehyung told you, catching up to your back as you were making your way through the place.  He came to walk beside you, looking at your eyes that couldn’t see any color.

“It is a section of the world that hasn’t been touched too badly by the distortion. If anything is alive here, it shouldn’t be a threat,” you assured him.  The fact you had put away your makeshift weapon put him further at ease.  He looked back and forth at the walls lined with art.  

This was what he was hoping to experience coming into the real gallery today.

Just browsing around to try and spark something in him to create something new.  To inspire him- not threatening his very life after sucking him into an actual nightmare world. He briefly jumped when a painting of a black cat blinked before it stretched and jumped right out of it’s canvas. He meowed up at him as he rubbed against his leg before scampering off somewhere else.  His padding paw steps disappearing down the hall.

Taehyung almost smiled at that.

The two of you walked in silence, the only sound in the gallery was the sound of both of your footsteps and the occasional sound of harmless art brought to life.  Taehyung stared at your back as you walked ahead of him and he began to wonder.  He wondered about a lot.

He wondered what would happen to you when he managed to get out of this place.  What would happen if he tried to maybe take you with him? Could you survive outside this place since you weren’t really born?  Would this gallery even exist when he leaves it or would it cease to be?

He stopped in his tracks he he caught himself. Why was he even thinking about taking you with him? 

The young artist was ripped from his thoughts when he saw your body jerk forward before you were staggering on your feet then falling to your knees on the tiled floors of the peaceful part of the gallery.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he jogged up behind you.  He placed his hand on the middle of your back as he knelt beside you and dipped his head down to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “Y/n, hey!” He called as your body shook and heaved like you were a living breathing person in the midst of a breathing fit.  You were a painting with a soul, but not really alive so did you breathe? He found himself asking that to himself way too often.  

He shook his head- that wasn’t the thought he needed to overthink right now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tried coaxing you.

You just shook your hand towards him; whether to shut him up or shoo him away he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t move from your side regardless.  When your arm raised, he saw beneath your sleeve a sort of discoloration. It was just like what he saw earlier in the mirror room.  

He took your wrist in his hand as he pushed your sleeve up when you suddenly fell into him. He jolted as he rolled you to lay on your side- your head lolling off in a way that looked uncomfortable with your shoulder pushing into the ground. He lifted your head, putting it on his leg to try and help you at least a bit.  

You twitched as he examined your skin. It looked like your arm was covered in a horrific bruise.  Ugly splotches of black, blue, purples, greens and yellows engulfed your arm like a tattoo sleeve gone horribly wrong. His brows dipped as he looked at the rest of your arm before he looked at the other.  It was the same thing, but not nearly as severe in terms of color and blotches.  It was like it was spreading.  

“What the hell?” He murmured as you seemed to be calming down.  You pushed yourself of his leg to lay on your back on the ground as your chest stopped heaving and you stopped twitching.  You closed your eyes, focusing on coming back down from whatever attack had ailed you and before too much longer, you were forcing yourself to sit up again. 

Taehyung sat beside you, slowly drawing his hand back and away from you as you pushed your sleeve back down to cover your ruined skin.  He narrowed his eyes at you as you looked back at him.  For someone who wasn’t really alive, you seemed to have bags under your eyes.  Something was straining you and you weren’t telling him about it.

“So?” He asked with a sharp tone as you just returned his word with a sigh as an answer.  He wanted an explanation and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“It’s not-”

“Tell me or I’m gonna annoy you continuously until you give in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You ticked your eyebrow up at him. “You’re threatening me? You realized I’m the one who’s been taking down everything that has attacked us so far, right?”

“It’s not a threat,” he promised as he crossed his arms sitting on the floor. He looked like a child.  In the end you let out another defeated sigh. There would be no point in arguing with him.  He’d probably run you in verbal circles until he got his way anyway.

“You know how the rest of the gallery is corrupted, you’ve seen it. Everything in this world that is art is affected.” You grabbed the sleeve of your arm as you sat more comfortably.  “Just because I’m fighting against it now, doesn’t mean I’m uneffected.  It’s a distortion that affects the arts- good or bad- and we can’t do anything about it. I’m just stubborn.”

Taehyung sat for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“So, you’re going to turn bad too?” He asked timidly.

“It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

“That’s crazy,” he whispered to the floors when his chin dipped down.  He groaned as he brought his hand up to ruffle his lightly colored hair.  You had been protecting him ever since you found him and now there’s a chance you could turn against him too? That was just crazy. You wouldn’t just turn on him like that, right? It’d be gradual and not just flipping a switch from sane to insane, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts again when you moved to stand and he quickly mirrored your actions to stand in front of you.  His arms hovered around your waist and back in order to catch you if you happened to fall again.

“Whatever happens, we just need to get you out of here as soon as possible.  If we find the exit quickly, we can get you out before I completely lose it.” You turned, ready to start walking off again to explore further when Taehyung shot his hand out and caught your arm.

“Wait!” He shouted, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the white walls adorned with art that wasn’t malicious.  “Will you be okay?” He asked even though he really knew the answer.  You had just told him that you were going to eventually turn from who you are now to someone else- one way or the other.

You smiled at him, trying your best to reassure him but didn’t offer him a verbal answer.  You slowly pulled his hand off you before you were telling him to follow you.  His arm dropped back to his side slowly as he looked at your back with sad eyes.  

He didn't know what hurt worse; the fact that you basically just told him ‘no’ or the fact that you didn’t say anything for him to understand because even if your eyes are just strokes of paint, they held so much in them and it twisted his gut.  

Taehyung wasn’t very fond of the idea that he had to leave the peaceful atmosphere of the white gallery and go back out into the one that actively tried to kill him.  His rose was safe in the zipped pocket inside his jacket as opposed to the outside pockets at his sides. He watched before he began to follow you once again.  

The drastic difference between the white, bright gallery and the dark, dim, purple backlight one just from passing through a door still through him for a loop each time he went through another passageway.  He stopped trying to guess what kind of room he’d be going into, because he’d probably guess wrong every time if he did. 

You stayed on guard with your picture frame piece and he stood beside you-more ready to throw down with a sculpture than before- even if he still didn’t want to. He’d tell you what colors were where and lead you in directions if you asked if a certain color was around.  

He briefly wondered how you managed to get around before he got there with your inability to see color, but then he stopped thinking about it because if you just went into a room that was filled with a problem- you probably just got rid of it.  You were more than capable, you’ve proved that more than enough by this point.

“Taehyung,” you called from ahead of him. He had been so lost in thought his steps had slowed down and he was further back away from you than he knew.  “Don’t lag behind.”

“Oh, right,” he called before he was jogging back to your side.  Following you through a doorway, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to see a room that was dark with only a trunk inside of it.  Walking in, you stepped up to it before you tapped it with your frame piece to see if something was inside.  

There was only silence before the lid of it burst open.  

You jolted, stepping in front of Taehyung as he raised his hand instinctively to maybe try and throw a punch at whatever might leap out of it, but nothing came out.  The lid bounced against the back of the trunks frame. The inside of it looked like a pink cloud- it wasn’t empty, just unsettlingly pink.  It was like cotton candy or maybe something thicker like thread that could trap you if you touched it.

“What-,” you started before you were yelping into direct fight or flight.  The still pinkness in the trunk jolted before it shot out like sentient strings and separated into long, thick arms of darkened red that wrapped around you and Taehyung’s bodies.  

Your backs were forced together and to your misfortune, your frame was knocked from your hand and clattered to the ground.  The thick strands of red wrapped tightly around your midsections and squeezed as it entangled around your legs and arms and even around your forehead to keep you completely still. Immobilizing the two of you, it then started to slowly reel you in.  

Your feet dragged across the ground and your toes lifted up and off the ground at some point as Taehyung was left to keep fumbling over his own feet.  He wouldn’t fall no matter how tangled his feet got since he was bound and tied so tightly.

The pair of you were stopped in front of the trunk that seemed to bulge in size- like it was taking into account the size of two people before you were swallowed into the cloud of pink turned red.  The sound of the trunks lid slammed above you both boomed like thunder before you were falling.  

It felt weightless, but you could feel the wind rushing past you as you were sure you were coming closer to hitting the ground.  

It was pitch black all around, but you felt Taehyung reach for you- now freed from the strands of red thread that had encased you both. You felt him wrap his arms around your shoulders from in front of you.  His chest pushed against yours before his weight overcame your own and he was falling first in front of you.

The fall wasn’t long and it didn’t feel like enough to particularly kill a person, but when the two of you hit the ground with Taehyung bracing the fall you were quick to shoot up from his chest as he groaned laying on his back.  

“Are you stupid?!” You scolded as he winced both from your shrieks and the pain of the fall. He sat up, rubbing his back as he just weakly laughed.  

“Yeah, so?” Your eye twitched at his lame excuse for a joke at a time like this. As he recovered from his fall and came back to his senses that weren’t cloaked in sensitive fall-stricken shock, you looked around to where exactly you two fell.  

It looked like you were pulled into a child’s coloring book.  Scratchy, uneven lines of what looked to be crayon or oil chalks were used to make up houses, roads and not too far from you both was a mass of uneven, patchy blue chalk that you assumed was a lake of sorts from its size.  It was dark, but it was lit with small patchy lights lining walls or suspending overhead like floating light bulbs.

You made it to your feet after you helped Taehyung, grabbing his hand and offering your shoulder for him to lean on.  He graciously took it and you were quick to ask if his rose was alright.  He dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to you.  A petal or two were missing, but you assumed it was caused from the fall.  

No wonder he hurt so much, you mentally noted with an eye roll; his rose was damaged.  

You looked around and peered over the chalked created houses.  Maybe if you investigated inside one of them, you’d find a vase for him to use to restore his rose petals.  You hiked his arm over your shoulder for a more firm grasp on his body's weight on you.

“Alright, first things first,” you started as you got his attention. “We need to find a vase with water to get your rose to grow.  That should take the pain away.” He muttered in agreement before both of you walked- ambled- off.  

Walking with a body hanging off you was a lot harder than you initially though it would be.  He would walk the best he could, but the injury and loss of his petals were obviously affecting him more than he was willing to let on. 

The first house you both entered was a small one outlined in pink chalk and inside was just one big open room with a drawn, blue couch, a table and a coat rack.  On the table was a vase, but it was empty.  If it wasn’t all black and white to you, maybe you would have found the place almost charming in it’s own way- but it was just dull.

You quickly moved Taehyung to the couch and told him to stay put.  Taking the vase you left the house and quickly moved down the chalked, dirt road down the lake you saw.  Maybe you could put some of the fake water into the vase and just somehow make it work, who knows.

Making it to the lake, you knelt and dipped the vase into the mass of blue as it filled the vase.  Your arm twitched before it was jerked and convulsed with it’s own corruption again and the vase slipped from your fingers for just a moment- but that moment was enough to lose it in the chalky blue mass of scribbles.  

Without much thought, you dove into the water, quickly snatched it back and as fast as possible swam and pulled yourself out of the mass before anything that could possibly be in the lake even thought about grabbing you.  

You huffed in annoyance as your clothes were dusted with chalk and even though it wasn’t real water- you felt damp.  You shook out your sleeves before you got to your feet and went back to Taehyung who was waiting in the house you left him laying on the couch with heavy breaths.

When he saw you, his eyebrow quirked.

“What’re you covered in? Dust?” He asked as you just shook your head, kneeling at the couch side and replacing the vase filled with vibrant blue on the table again.  

“Forget about it. Give me your rose, please.” your hand was outstretched and waiting as he quickly pulled it out and handed it to you. You hesitantly placed the stem into the water and let it sink as the blooms of the petals rested against the rim of the vase.  You heard Taehyung sigh as if his pain was floating away and to your relief, two petals grew once again. “Thank goodness that actually worked,” you sighed.

Taehyung chuckled beside you. “Yeah, no kidding.  That was all assumption- if that had taken more petals off, I think I would’ve passed out or something.”

“You mangled to take four petals of damager before,” you told him. “Besides, you weren’t that injured,” you told him as you took the rose back out of the vase and handed it to him to replace in his jacket. “You just don’t know how to take a fall.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Who was the one who took the brunt of that fall, huh?” He sat up and crossed his arms like a child pouting. “A thank you would be nice to hear, you know.”

Your lips tilted in a smile as you moved to stand up and stretched your arms across your chest.  You felt helpless without your frame piece that you had lost before you wound up here with the young, human artist.  Looking at him like this, you wouldn’t think he’d be in as much danger as he is.  He was in a whole different dimension with enemies at his back almost constantly, but here he was pouting for a ‘thank you’.  You chuckled.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you told him. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lights or maybe your vision going because of your own distorting body, but you thought you saw the blank shade of his skin to your eyes darken.  Like color had possibly bloomed over his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before you could ask and he was getting up off the couch, walking to the door of the house. He was ready to leave, but stopped short.  You came up behind him and opened your mouth to ask him what the problem was when he spun around and shushed you.  He pushed you back and led you behind the couch, crouching down and covering you with himself as you both hid.

You had no idea what he thought he heard, but you kept quiet before you heard the door of the house you both were in squeak open.  You looked at Taehyung as he looked up, focusing on listening for any indication of someone coming closer to your hiding place.  

You racked your brain trying to think of what or who could be following you both.  Had someone been inside the trunk before you and had seen you at the lake? You weren’t sure.  You heard them pad into the house before they stopped and then a crash sounded through the walls of the room. The footsteps then walked back out of the room and the door slammed shut.  

Taehyung and you stared at each other, still remaining silent for a few more moments before determining you were safe. He let out a breath as he peeked over the couch first and scanned the room.  There was no one.  

“It’s clear,” he whispered as he stood up and moved away from you as you stood up next to him.  Your brows dipped as you saw the vase you had just used to heal Taehyung’s rose shattered into pieces with splashes of blue- grey to your eyes- dusted around the table top and blew onto the floor.  

You looked at the door with a narrowed gaze.  Just what was that? Could something you didn’t know about be wandering around? Then again, even you didn’t know everything there is to know about this gallery. 

“I think we need to hurry,” you muttered, Taehyung quickly agreed as you both scurried out of the house.  The two of you walked along the dusty, chalk paths before you were stepping up a set of stairs back into a proper gallery. It led to a section that you recognized. You started walking with ease, knowing what was where in this section and Taehyung took notice of that.  

“Do you know where we are? I mean, you’ve known a good part of where we’ve been, but I mean-”

“This is my section of the gallery. My frame is hanging around here, so yes I know it.” You told him, interrupting his rambling for an answer to his question.

“Your frame?”

“Yes. You know I’m just a painting. The frame I was placed in and the frame I came out of is around here.”

“Can I see it?” He asked without much thinking before you stopped and turned to him.  He almost slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else without a filter before you turned on your heel and started off around a corner. “Y/n! Wait!”

“You wanted to see my frame, didn’t you?” You popped your head back around the corner to motion him to follow after you and he did so.  He trailed you- just as he had been- and eventually you took him to a deadend hall.  At the end of it, on the wall facing the rest of the narrow corridor, was an empty frame. “This is it,” you told him, motioning to it with as little care as you would as if you were showing off a bag of dog food.

The frame was silver and engraved with all sorts of weaves across it.  It was sturdy and not undamaged.  The glass of the frame was broken; however it must’ve been broken from the inside if the evidence of the glass at his feet was anything to go by. You must have burst from the inside out and created the glass mess in front of it.  The plaque under the frame read ‘Leia’ as the young artist looked back to you with wide eyes.

“You’re Leia?” He asked. At the discovery he had a pang of small guilt in his stomach from thinking earlier on that he didn’t even want to see the painting since the rest of the gallery was out for his blood. You blinked at him as you nodded simply.

“That was my title when I was created, but I was given a new name because I was granted a soul and free will within this dimension.” You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter what my art piece name is?”

“It's just that the gallery I came from was named after you,” he told you. “I guess I just never expected you to be the last piece of art from someone- not that it’s a bad thing!” He defended at the unimpressed look in your painted eyes. “It was the discovery of that painting that gave my gallery the name it has. You’re like the main centerpiece of everything.”

You looked blankly at your empty frame.  

“I doubt that the ‘Leia’ in the real gallery is like me. I may be ‘Leia’, but I’m more Y/n. It sounds ridiculous, but that painting isn’t me.” You softly traced the silver frame with your fingers before you were turning around again. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. No more detours.”

Taehyung was quick to chase after you but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to you.  He wanted to talk to fill the silence that gaped between the two of you.  Taehyung kept telling himself that he had no reason to try and figure you out, you were a painting for God’s sake.  What could he possibly want to know?

Other than everything.

He wondered about a great many things and couldn’t help but overthink what you may or may not have been through.  How did you feel about this world? Did you consider it home or maybe a sort of prison you were unfortunately born into. How did this world look to your colorless eyes? Just how did it feel being a painting exactly? 

When you were ‘born’ and thrust into a world that was already starting to collapse, how did you survive? Did you fight from the beginning, or not? He wanted to ask all these questions, but he knew that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to ask anyway- this world isn’t his and you weren’t even human.

Taehyung followed behind you as a feeling in his gut started to bloom. He raised his hand to his stomach and palmed it through his shirt as his steps slowed and he watched you ever so slowly get further ahead of him.  He felt like he couldn’t do this without answers.  So, he acted idiotically and moronically and selfishly.  

Without you realizing, you got separated from Taehyung once again- only this time on purpose.  The next time you turned around to check on why he was so silent, you stopped in your tracks not seeing him around you.  

“Dammit,” you seethed.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had back tracked all the way to your empty portrait frame.  He stood in front of it once more as his fingers traced the letters of your plaque. The letters spelling out ‘Leia’ in fine script before he was tracing the frame itself.

He felt selfish for wanting to know about you- a painting- and keeping himself here in a world that actively tried to kill him longer than he needed to be. He scoffed at himself, his mind remembering how he had judged the artist in the book he had read before and how the artist got attached to something like a painting. 

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” he chided to himself.  

He needed to go home and although he understood that, he wanted to know more about the living painting that had been protecting him up until this point.  The same painting who was slowly getting infected with some weird, paint disease that could turn you against him at the drop of a pen.

He knew he was pressed for time. Time was precious, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were too.

Taehyung inspected the black emptiness of the frame that you had come from and reached his hand out.  His hand jerked back when the pads of his fingers weren’t met with the sturdy wall that the frame hung on.  Instead, the blackness encased by the silver frame rippled like murky water.  It was like a pool of ink as he reached out to it again and started to sink his hand into it further.

He wondered how deep that ink went, how far could he reach inside before it stopped him.  Could he be able to submerge himself fully into it, or maybe crawl into the frame like a painting himself.  

“But then, what would that accomplish?” He questioned himself with a half-sarcastic attitude. However, even if he knew it was more than likely fruitless, he started to climb inside anyways.  The frame was big, so he had no problem with grabbing the edges of the frame, lifting his leg over the bottom ledge of it and heaving himself inside the blackness.  

He braced himself, feeling like it would feel like that monster from before that encased him in terror as it threatened his very life.  However, this blackness wasn’t like before.  It was dark and felt endless, but it lacked the deep pit of dread that the monster had.  It felt like something- but he couldn’t place exactly what.

Loneliness maybe? Or perhaps a bittersweet sort of feeling; like being free, yet not being as free as a true human being.  He walked around aimlessly in the blackness, feeling less and less like he was walking on the floor.  He started feeling weightless, like he was walking on air.

There was clearly no end where he was, and he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted there to be.  A light at the end of the tunnel? That wouldn’t apply in this situation and he knew that perfectly well. Or, he thought that would be the case.  From behind him, he started to feel something close by, like the feeling of someone standing directly behind your back.

Whirling around, he saw nothing, felt no one and squinted his eyes as his ears started to pick up on some noise around. It sounded like it was echoing around from every direction, but he was still able to follow it- maybe it was because wherever he was in your frame was a directionless void.

It was nowhere and everywhere all at once.  

As he walked, the blackness started to slowly light up from a greyscale and before long he was standing in a room.  Like, a real room, but in this room he couldn’t touch anything.  He was in a studio- covered in easels, paints, canvases, stains and tarps and cloth and everything in between.  

However, if he even tried to touch something, his hand would just phase right through the object he wanted to grasp. He walked around the studio before the door to the room opened and hobbled in was an older man whose face he couldn’t see.  His face wasn’t even that, it was just black scribbles where the features should have been.  Static echoed around the room as he assumed that the old man was trying to speak, but the words didn’t reach Taehyung’s ears.  

He walked to an easel that was covered with a white cloth before he set up his area and sat on a stool.  He cleaned up some brushes, cleaned his palette and rearranged his paints to suit his needs and wants.

Taehyung watched in silence as the old man began to paint and even though there was clearly a passing of some sort of warped time, in the moment it all felt timeless.  The end result was none other than your own portrait.  He shouldn’t have been shocked to see your spitting image in your portrait, but he couldn’t help it.  

Then the old man just turned his back, his fake face seemingly looking right at the young artist before he pointed at you.  More specifically, he pointed to the white space of your canvas and Taehyung could have sworn he saw it ripple like water.  

The setting of the studio began to suddenly fade out as he started hearing murmuring in the distance echoing around him.  It sounded unbearably loud as he covered his ears and the studio brushed away in flakes like eraser debris.  

“-yung! -hyung!” He felt like his head was about to burst as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and yank him backward.  He was then tumbling out of your frame, out of the void and onto the floor of the demented gallery. “Taehyung!” Someone shouted his name above him as his eyes were blurry and he rubbed at them to try and get them to regain their focus.  He blinked as his brows shot up when his eyes shot open wide.

“Namjoon?” There, above him, hovered his best friend. Taehyung quickly whipped around to his stomach before pushing off the ground and looking up to the blog journalist.  “What? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Taehyung was sure he was the only one who happened to fall into this sketched out dangerous gallery. Namjoon wasn’t even where he was left when Taehyung looked for him. He looked his friend over.

“How have you made it this far?” Taehyung was impressed. Aside from the disheveled state of his clothes with wrinkles and small beads of sweat on his brow and temple, he seemed fine.  

“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” Namjoon groaned as he pulled the artist off the floor and straightened out his jacket, brushing him off. “I’ve been running around like crazy for hours looking for you.”

Taehyung was shocked and honestly glad to see a familiar face.  Then you came to mind.  He wondered if you were looking for him after he just decided to pull that disappearing act on you.  He felt guilty about it now that his actions settled in. For all he knew, you thought he got himself caught in another dangerous situation when he was really as safe as he could be in the moment. 

“Did you happen to pass by a girl? Like, our age but wearing outdated clothing.”

“Someone else? No, I didn’t. Is someone else here?”

Taehyung shook his head.  “No, she’s not a person, she’s a painting and- argh forget it!  It’s a long story and from the look you’re giving me, you don’t believe me in the first place.”

“How hard did you hit your head when I pulled you out of that thing?” Namjoon asked as he used his thumb to lazily point to your empty frame.  Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed at his temples.  He remembered the way his head spun when Namjoon started calling him before he was dragged out by the man.  His head had pounded just like how it did when he was in the room with the tar monster from earlier. 

He tried thinking back to the man in the studio he witness and tried putting together anything that could be used as a clue on how to get home. He seemed to obviously be pointing to something, something Taehyung couldn’t help but feel was important.  “Whatever you saw,” Namjoon called his attention, “forget it.  It’s probably a trap or something.  You can’t trust the things here.”

“Not everything is dangerous,” Taehyung countered with you in mind.  “Y/n isn’t.”

Namjoon sighed annoyed. “You don’t know that. You said ‘she’ was a painting, right? You can’t trust something like that thing.”

“Don’t call her a thing,” Taehyung growled.  “She’s kept me safe up until this point. Like it or not, I trust her. We need to find her before we get attacked by something.”

“Taehyung-”

“I’m not arguing about this.  Finding Y/n takes first priority.” Normally, Taehyung was more than obedient when it came to Namjoon.  Not only was he older, but the sense of leadership the older held made it easy to listen.  However, Taehyung didn’t feel that air of ‘need to follow’ right now around him.  

“What about leaving? What about that priority?”

“She can help us. Y/n comes first,” he finalized before he was turning on his heel and going off into the direction he had fled from your side.  Namjoon clicked his tongue as he reluctantly followed behind.

Logically, even Taehyung knew that you’d probably be agitated for prioritizing your location over his freedom and escape out of this place.  But, the nagging in his head didn’t let him argue the topic, even with himself.  He wasn’t going to just find a way to escape and not tell you goodbye at the very least.  

You had done nothing but help and protect him, the least he could do was tell you thank you properly before he left.  It was the right thing to do, even if a little bit foolish.  He knew that.

To his luck, it didn’t take nearly all that long for him to catch a glimpse of you rushing around a corner.  You were jogging around, looking to and fro for something- he knew it was him- and he was quick to start shouting at you with his arm raised in the dark halls.  Namjoon stood behind his shoulder, still unhappy.

“Y/n!” He watched your head whip around as you started running towards him.  As you didn’t slow down in your approach, the closer you got the more nervous he became before you skit to an abrupt halt at his toes and got up into his face, grabbing his jacket collar.

“Stop going off on your own! Are you stupid or do you want to get attacked again that badly, huh?!” You shouted in rightful anger as he felt sweat gather on his neck.  He raised his hands in defense as he slightly pushed your shoulders down to gain some distance away from your rage.  

“I know, I shouldn’t have run off.” You slowly released his jacket. “That was my bad and I apologize, but,” he stepped away from you and twisted to show Namjoon. “I managed to find my friend.  He was in the gallery with me before I got here. This is Namjoon.”

Taehyung introduced the two of you as you just stared at the man and he stared back in a silent competition that Taehyung definitely picked up on.  Clearly, there wasn’t much hope of friendship on the horizon- but he figured you’d cooperate with him so that they could get out safely.  You were that kind of person- cooperative if not a bit on the stubborn side.

“You found him, huh? Where?”

“Oh, I went back to your frame and he was there.” Taehyung easily answered, deciding to keep the fact that he crawled into the frame and saw what looked like memories to himself.  What if it stirred something up with you? Your mood was already foul enough, he didn’t want to risk it.

He wasn’t one to stir the pot, so to speak. 

Your brow twitched at his seemingly carefree manner at his ditching stunt.  You groaned as you whacked him on the arm before pointing your finger at his face in a warning manner, making him go cross eyed momentarily.  

“You run off like that again, and I’ll tie your wrist to mine. Got it?”

“Promise?” He teased as you just threw your hands in the air in defeat and started walking off.  He wasn’t planning on running when your back was turned again.  Just that one time was enough.  Now that he was with Namjoon too, he couldn’t risk being as careless.  “We’re going. Come on.”

“At your beck and call, Leader,” Taehyung chided, still trying to get your spirits higher from the mood he put you in.  Namjoon followed behind silently with skeptical eyes as Taehyung chatted with you like he’d known you all his life.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had since stopped his yammering as you lead the charge of three through halls and told them when to be silent and when to be cautious. You kept a close eye on Namjoon, something about the friend of Taehyung’s rubbing you the wrong way.  You couldn’t say whether or not you were a good judge of character since Taehyung was the first human you ever met, but you still felt something off.  His cold glare made your artificial skin crawl.

You had just walked through an archway before Taehyung made a noise of recognition as you turned to him.  He looked around with wide eyes.  

“What is it?”

“I feel like I’ve been in this area before.”

“Really?” You questioned.  You’d never really gone into this portion of the gallery.  It was always too dark to see and you were always put off by how quiet it was.  It was like there was something on the other side of the walls that irked you.  “Maybe you passed by here before I found you. I’ve never been in this part before.”

“You haven’t been here? I thought you had been everywhere.” Taehyung wasn’t accusing you, he was just curious.  He wanted to know why you hadn’t been here.  

“I had no reason to be,” you told him.  “Besides, I don’t think a creature like me who’s slowly corrupting belongs in a tranquil part of this place.”

“So,” Namjoon finally intervened from behind the two of you.  You both turned to look at his cross-armed figure, still glaring and fuming with some odd sense of presence you hated.  “You admit you’re dangerous?”

Your brows furrowed.  “Excuse me?”

“You said you’re corrupting.  So? That sounds like a red-flag if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’m sorry,” you scoff in disbelief, “has it been you getting Taehyung through this place in one piece? Or maybe it was you who has been taking down threats left and right and going on wild goose chases when things go south. No?”

“Guys-” Taehyung tried dispersing the stifling air, but Namjoon’s ire interrupted him.  You both went back and forth and before long you were at Namjoon’s toes, arguing with him face to face- quite literally.  Taehyung watched as he tried to think of a way to calm you both down.  The last thing he wanted was to both waste time and have the two sides of his trust arguing against each other.  

Taehyung was going to open his mouth and shout or something, just to break the string of tension, but his jaw had just dropped when you had stopped mid-sentence.  Your hand was raised, an accusatory finger pointed at his best friend’s chin when it started to drop just a fraction to his chest.

“Y/n?” Taehyung called.  He shrieked when your hand came to grip his chin, squeezing his jaw as you yanked Namjoon’s face down to look into his eyes.  “Woah! Y/n, c-calm down!” You narrowed your eyes before you shoved him away, making his feet stumble back a handful of steps to keep himself upright.  Taehyung came to your side as you shook your hand as if it was contaminated. He looked you over and noticed the uneasy look on your face. “What’s-”

“Why are you sticking to that painting like glue?” Namjoon called to Taehyung as he rubbed his jaw.  “I’m your friend here, not that.” Taehyung looked up and towards the journalist with confliction.  

“T-that’s true, but-”

“But nothing.  That thing just grabbed and shoved me, but you’re at it’s side like I did something wrong.  You should be checking on me, not fawning over that.” He pointed at you, his eyes grew small in anger as you just shot back at him a silent glare.  

Taehyung was less than pleased to keep hearing Namjoon refer to you as ‘it’ or a ‘thing’.  Painting or not, you were still alive and, dammit, Namjoon needed to accept that already. He was ready to tell him off, defend you when you spoke first in a low tone.

“Do you trust me?” You asked. You were looking dead at Namjoon, but the artist knew you were addressing him.  You repeat the question when you’re met with only silence.  Taehyung immedately nodded when the question was repeated.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“WHY?!” He jumped from Namjoon’s shriek across from the two of you. Your shoulders squared and the action didn’t go unnoticed. “Why trust something you just met?! Who is admitting to killing things and slowing losing its mind?!” His brought his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. “You should be trusting me!”

“What is wrong with you,” Taehyung whispered in concern, wondering what happened to his best friend.  He was normally the type to roll with anything, even in stressful situations he always tried to take it with a grain of salt.  He was an optimist, or at least he always tried to be.  No matter the dark tunnel, there’s always a light; it was basically Namjoon’s life motto. “Did something happen? Stop accusing Y/n and just talk to-” he gasped when he felt your hand grasp his.  Your face was downcast as you squeezed his palm. “Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and looked at him dead in the eyes.  “We have to run.” Taehyung jolted back.  Run? From what? You looked back at Namjoon, your colorblind eyes slowly unveiling just who and what that best friend of Taehyung’s was.  “We need to get away from him as soon as possible.  He’s dangerous.”

“What?” Taehyung was in instant denial.  Namjoon? Dangerous?  The same Namjoon who would cry if one of his plants died or would lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling if someone asked him what his favorite brand of pen is for the hundredth time? “That’s not true, he’s-” Taehyung looked at his best friend to defend him, but stopped short.

Something about him was off. Taehyung had noticed it since the beginning, but dismissed it all. Now, it looked like some veil of black was hovering around his friend’s body as he glared at you. Namjoon didn’t look like himself.  He looked fake and at that, Taehyung’s eyes widened.  

He looked artificial- just like how you did to his human eyes.  

You must have seen it in his eyes, that’s why you grabbed his chin to inspect him further.  That’s why you shoved him away and that’s why you wanted Taehyung to flee.  

Your hand dropped his as you caught sight of the thing disguised as Taehyung’s friend moving just slightly.  You stepped in front of the artist before you took off before ‘it’ could.  It lunged and you were quick to react.  You lifted your foot and slammed it into it’s stomach as it leaned forward- not at the lack of air, but the force you put into your stomping.  You locked your arm around the back of its neck as you tucked it’s head under your arm and held it in place in a lock.  

You groaned as you felt your arms burn with contamination again and your grip almost loosened at the paintings thrashing because of it.  You planted your feet as firmly as you could, even if the thrashing made you teeterd from your heels to your toes and skid an inch back or forward here and there.  

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the thing under your arm contained and although you had just told Taehyung not to leave your side again, you were ready to tell him to run off and hide somewhere until you could find him.  

The moment you turned your head on your shoulders to shout for him to do so, you halted to see him literally at your back already.  His large hands had planted themselves one on your back to steady you and the only ensnared in the fake Namjoon’s clothed back, gripping it’s clothes firmly. Even the fabric felt like paint under his nails as he started to rip the thing away from you.  

Taehyung caught sight of the fake’s face and what used to be identical to Namjoon had muddled away to show a white tar surface with no sense of expression. He sneered as he took your place of taking it on before he was shoving it backward.  

Although he wasn’t a fighter, Taehyung was no push over.  He could hold his own if he really ended up needing to and at the moment, he did.  He pushed the fake as it stumbled on it’s own clumsy feet before it started to go after him again.  Taehyung swung his elbow out, cathing the fake in the whiteness of it’s face before it hit the ground.  

He backed up away from the thing he just put on the ground, turning to you and snatching your hand in his again.

Taehyung’s hand squeezed yours and when he did, you spun on your heels and took off, fleeing with the young artist beside you.  You both heard ‘Namjoon’ scream behind your backs as Taehyung looked back to see it still laying on the floor, skriming.  

Taehyung was terrified, more terrified than he was before.  He was terrified on how it gained his trust so easily- a thought that almost made him angry.  He felt stupid as he held onto your hand like a linelife as you weaved through the halls and soon came to a staircase.  

You stopped as you looked over your shoulder as Taehyung buckled to his knees and heaved after sprinting for so long.  He used the wall to support himself as you looked at him trying to gather his breath.  

You looked at your hand in his and attempted to pull it away from him, but he just squeezed tighter onto you and tugged it back.

“A little longer,” he whispered.  After a few minutes of him gathering himself and you making sure you both weren't followed, he stood back to his height and continued to hold you hand.  “Hey,” he called with a tight throat. “If we run into anyone else, if you don’t trust them, tell me and I won’t either.” You didn’t say a word to try and deter him from using your judgement as his own, you simply nodded in agreement.  

If all worked out, he wouldn’t need to use your opinions for much longer.  You were going to get him out.

The two of you ascended the staircase before you and when you reached the top, Taehyung looked around to see the spitting image of the original gallery.  

The white walls and matching floors and ceilings. The chandeliers that weren’t on with the power out and the windows all greyed out as if they were blocked by cement.  The front doors were locked as if there was no escape.  Trying a switch, he wasn’t shocked to see the lights not working.  

“Can you lead from here,” you asked him, just trying to get him to talk again.  “I don’t know my way around.” He only nodded before he was walking off, tugging you in tow as you thought of ways to make his voice come out again.  You felt oddly uneasy when he was silent.  The previous incident with the fake friend of his obviously taking a mental toll on him.  It was to be expected, but it still hurt your chest.

If you had a beating heart, you’d call this feeling heartache.

It was when you passed by a rather mundane looking couch that was suclupted in a strange, wavey shape when you figured out a way to get him to talk. You stopped and your hand in his anchored him when he looked over his shoulder.  When he looked at you, you pointed to the sofa surrounded in rope dividers.

“What colors is that?” You asked when you looked back at him.  Your actions and unspoken desire to get his voice to come out didn’t go unnoticed-  

He smiled. “It’s red,” he told you.

-Nor did it go unappreciated.  

From that, he would tell you the colors of whatever you pointed at that you passed and before he knew it he had come to a deadend with only one, giant painting on the wall- taking up the entire space of it.  His mouth opened as his hand dropped from yours as he looked at it.  

“That’s,” he looked at it as his eyes ran over every edge. “That looks like the gallery. The real one,” he smiled as he gazed at it.  This was it, his way out. He felt in his bones that this was his exit.  His hand reached to touch the canvas, but gasped when his hand just phased right through.  It was just like how your frame was.  He could climb into this and be somewhere else.  

Then he felt a chill run down his spine and a heavy feeling fall in his gut.  He pulled his hand back as he turned around and looked at you.  You were well behind him against the back wall, your hands behind your back as you watched him.  

“What?” You asked.  This was his way out and you both knew it.  You expected him to jump on through and finally be free of this hellscape, but instead he made his way back to you and away from his exit door disguised as a painting. He stood in front of you, toe to toe as he looked at you.

Taehyung gazed at you, his eyes began to sting as they felt misty.  This was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous. How could he cry about leaving you behind when he just met you?  You didn’t belong in his world and he knew that just as much as you.  Yet, the feeling of parting ways with you made his throat tight.

“I’m leaving,” he told you. “And I won’t ever see you again,” he choked.  You were shocked to see the first tear run down his face.  You wondered if tears were blue. You brushed it away with the back of your hand as more just kept coming.  He could see the distortion on your skin under your sleeve from the angle of you wiping his tears and he just wanted to cry more.

His mind started becoming delusional.  

If he chose not to leave and stayed put with you, would you hurt him? Would you hunt him down in time and kill him like the others had before?  Would he lose his humanity even? Turn into a painting and spend the rest of his time with you. You wouldn’t be alone if he did. What if he tried to take you back with him? Would you just disintegrate into paint splotches because you had no physical body to speak of?

So many hypotheticals and you wouldn’t allow any of them to come to fruition.

“Go home, Taehyung,” you told him softly with a smile, the hand you placed on his cheek rubbed his skin before letting it softly fall.  You urged him, not commanded him and he knew he had to go.  He sniffled as he grabbed your hands and held them again. “What, you want a hug goodbye or something?” You teased but when he didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes.  “You do, don't you?”

“And? What about it,” he sniffed as he pouted. You pulled your hands away from his, even if he chased after them when you did.  You swatted at his hands that tried grabbing yours once more.

“Do you want me to hug you or not?” You asked in impatience while he nodded like a child. “Then let my hands go.” He immediately abandoned your hands and wrapped his arms under your own and pulled you to your toes against his chest.  You felt your chest hit his with a dull thud as he held you like you were dying.  

Well, you sort of were, but he didn’t need the finer details repeated on your unavoidable fate.  

He started swaying you on your toes as he found a home on your shoulder. One of your hands was on his head, shushing him and the other pat his back between his shoulders.  He really was like a giant child.  Was this what a goodbye hug felt like? It felt nothing like the hug he gave you when he was attacked previously and reunited with him.  This one felt much more sad- desperate even.

“Teahyung,” you whispered as you felt him hum against your shoulder. “You need to go.”

“I know,” he admitted before he started to pull away from you when your hands moved to land on his shoulders to push him softly.  His eyes looked swollen and wondered what color the skin around his eyes were. It looked darker to your black and white vision. “I think- I think I’m going to miss you.  A lot.”  

You brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it as you smiled at him.  

“You’ll forget a painting like me in no time,” you eased.  He frowned at that, wanting to hug you again, but you just pushed him away. Turning him by his shoulders, you started to push him from behind to the frame before you came to his side.  You gestured towards it. “Home is waiting for you.”

He swallowed another large lump in his throat.  He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from crying anymore.  He was so overly emotional and he was annoying himself because of it. He could only imagine how you felt watching his waterworks.  

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“I’m going back to my frame,” you told him.  “I’ll go back to my home too,” you smiled.  He felt a small sliver of relief at your answer.  “We’ll both go back to where we belong, just as he should. It’ll be okay.” You pat his back. “I promise.” You felt bad, lying straight to his face like that.  

He nodded before he grabbed the inside of the frame, and began to hull himself over.  He had one knee resting on the frame edge and the other still hanging out when he turned and looked down at you hovering above you on the wall.  He reached in his jacket and pulled out his rose before he handed it to you.  It was a silent agreement as he passed it onto you- he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore. You’d keep it safe even if he wasn’t there anymore and he knew you would.

He put on his brightest smile, “see you around, Y/n,” before he jumped completely through.

As his body faded into the stretched, painted fabric of the canvas and the frame seemed to close like a locked portal that you couldn’t ever even think about passing through, you fell to the ground, screaming as your body felt like it was on fire.

You laughed bitterly as you were just relieved that the one precious person you managed to meet in your miserable existence as a painting without a future was someone as kind and warm as Taehyung.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung felt dazed.  

He was staring at a plaque as his eyes were bleary like he had just woken up from a long nap.  He felt like yawning before he felt a shake on his shoulder.  He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.  

“Hey,” Namjoon called with concern written on his face, “what’s with you? You zoned out for like two minutes.”

“I dunno,” he replied.  He moved to look at the giant painting of a black location with messy brushes of what looked like some haunted locations.  “I feel like I just woke up from a really nap.” He yawned as he read the name of the painting loud to himself.  “Parallel Reality,” the words read and they sounded familiar to him.  “I feel like I'm forgetting something,” he frowned. “Didn’t the lights go out a little while ago or something?”

“Dude,” Namjoon’s hand fell from his friend’s shoulder. “You really need to get some proper sleep if you’re taking micro-naps, standing up, around this many people and dreaming about power-outages.” It was only then that the artist was aware of all the sounds around him- buzzing from every corner of the building.

“I don’t wanna hear that from the reigning champ of disarranged sleep schedules.”

The journalist and young, free-lance artist continued walking around the blinding white gallery.  People crowded the place and the murmur of them all talking in whispers comforted Taehyung for a reason he couldn’t exactly explain.  

He and Namjoon had started down the final hall they had left to view. The sme hall that happened to contain the naming right to the gallery in the first place.  At the end of the hall, hanging on the dead-end wall was the one painting called ‘Leia’. The piece Taehyung came to see specifically to see if he could be sprung out of his art-block.

As he stood in front of the painting, he inspected it.

It was a young woman dressed in dated clothes with her eyes looking off to almost mimic looking off the canvas.  Her legs were coiled in thorns and she looked like she was running from something, but with a protective sense and not a fearful one.  She held a blue rose in her hand as the silver, engraved frame encased the painting.  

The piece wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow looking at the piece, he felt calm despite the action set formed in brush strokes.  As the tour guide in charge of 'Leia’ began to explain how it was the artist’s last piece, Taehyung began to zone out again, while Namjoon scribbled down notes beside him.  

As she yammered on and on, Namjoon soon caught sight of his friend’s face. He stopped his writing as he lifted his pen up and lowered his arm to tuck it away in his pocket,. When his hand was free of any writing utensil, he placed it on Taehyung’s back.

“Hey,” he whispered softly to not gain attention from the other’s standing around them. “Why are you crying?”

Taehyung jolted as he quickly brought his hands to his face.  

He was crying.  

When did he start and why? He wiped them away only for more to follow through.  He was soon silently hunched over sobbing.  Why did he feel this way by looking at a painting? Art had always given him a sense of emotion- but he hadn’t felt such sorrow before.  

“I don’t know,” he whimpered as Namjoon took him to some place less crowded. As Taehyung calmed down, he felt oddly refreshed.  

“You okay now? I’ve got enough notes for an entry if you want to leave.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to go home and paint,” he announced as Namjoon smiled, happy to see a spark behind Taehyung’s eyes return.  The spark of an artist that had finally overcome his art-block. 

“Alright, then let’s get going.” As the two men walked out, reception bidding them farewell, Namjoon started making conversation. “So, what do you want to paint?”

“I’m not sure, but maybe a blue rose garden or something. Paired with something old fashioned, like outdated clothing or old picture books. I’ll figure it out when I get to my studio.”

He didn’t voice it, but he knew he’d be back to view ‘Leia’ again, and this time he wouldn’t cry. The calmness he felt from the painting- regardless of his tears- was like being reunited with an old friend. 

What kind of man would Taehyung be if he cried in front of a friend?  

-END-

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

1/3 of the Reality Stone fragments remained with its host, Ripley Ryan, in the hospital. Determined to finish what they started, the Black Widow and Winter Soldier headed to the Intensive Care Unit along with a team of mutants who were sent by Wanda Maximoff to cast a reality binding spell. Once their goal was achieved, there was nothing standing between them and Zemo at the Town Hall.

These events come AFTER the INN and MUSEUM and before the TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky pushed through the hospital doors with both hands, metal clinking against the acrylic outer shell and double paned panels. He was hot on Natasha's heels, having made a pitstop for the both of them at the museum before the rest of the crew could cause too much of an issue. When he caught up to her just before she hit the stairwell, he slid her a twin set of guns and then readjusted the strap to his AR. "Sure we can't just shoot first and ask questions later?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Although not in her suit, Natasha had clicked on the two Widow’s Bites that Barnes had taken from the Museum. The two guns were a gift from a poor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was now weaponless, but Natasha accepted them from James all the same. “You want to risk shooting the wrong person?” Checking how much ammo she had, the Widow shook her head. “Personal mission. Maybe bad form, but family first.” Knowing that Taskmaster was in the building - and still sore from their last run in  - Natasha quietly pushed the door open and raised her gun while she rounded the corner, coming face to face with a crying girl in scrubs. “Too easy.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked his tongue at that. "Fuck form. I would've taken more, but I know how much Barton is attached to his bow." he was only mildly joking, using it as a way to fill the space so he didn't spiral into his own mind. "Think we should've accepted back up?" And now he really was joking, mirroring Nat with his own weapon. He stopped short when they came around the corner and he instinctively tightened his grip on his gun. "It's never that easy."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Eyes rolling, Natasha quickly checked over her shoulder. “Easy to say when it fits the situation,” she hummed. “We do have back-up. Bobbi’s here and changing. She’s got the codes. Psylocke is somewhere looking for her friends. Apparently, Wanda is helping the mutants.” Whatever helped them through. Lowering her gun slightly, Natasha glanced from the sniffling young adult to the name tag she wore. “Hey, Astrid. Sad day at the hospital?”

YELENA BELOVA: Caught up in her own moping, ‘Astrid’ started at the sound of the woman’s voice and sat up as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. No. I mean -- yes. It’s a hospital. But our patients usually are cured. Just bad dating experiences. Dumb, I know.” She nudged her magazine closed. “Are you here to visit someone?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Bad dating experiences?" he couldn't keep the question out of his tone, the laughable disbelief. He cocked the gun single handedly before dropping it back in his grip. "In fact we are. Wanna tell me who it is you're crying over?"

YELENA BELOVA: Although his tone was a little snide, the brunette didn’t notice. It was lonely at the front desk if she wasn’t making rounds and her friends were fine but the recent dumping had taken a toll. “His name is Jim. He’s a nice guy. Was a nice guy. We went on a few dates and he went all two-faced. Completely ghosted me. That was three days ago.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Natasha wracked her brain. “Helmut,” she swore under her breath. “Astrid, have you talked to ‘Jim’ since?”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky just...blinked at her. Then, all of a sudden he barked a laugh, shaking his head. "How mad would you be if I took out all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, voice lower, only for Nat to hear. "Yeah, 'Strid, we just wanna talk to him. He's like family, you get it."

YELENA BELOVA: Finally really taking the guns in consideration, Astrid slowly stood and reached around her scrubs for her buzzer. “I should call Chris. He’s head of Hospital security and he can help you figure out where you’re headed.”

BUCKY BARNES: That wasn’t really part of the plan. “Yel-Astrid, Jim’s a little more important right now.” With a sigh, Bucky aimed the AR, barrel directed at ‘Astrid’. “We don’t need head of security.” A red dot appeared at the center of her scrubs, the buzz of the scope a sound only he could hear. “Just give Jim a call, yeah?”

YELENA BELOVA: “He’s not gonna answer,” she huffed as her eyes welled up again. “I just told you -- he’s not interested in me. I think it’s my thighs. It has to be.” Nearly crosseyed, she stared at the light on her scrubs and the demanding man. Fumbling for her phone, Astrid dialed with shaking fingers. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. “See? Thighs.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked off the scope, the red light disappearing before he lowered his gun. ”I’m just gonna hit her. You good with that?” he asked Natasha.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Watching the entire exchange, Natasha had shouldered past Yelena at one point to rummage through the cabinets behind the desk. They needed as much info about the Database as possible, and there a possibility some of Ripley’s medical records were there. At Bucky’s question, she glanced up. Yelena would be pissed, but the two of them had come for a reason. “Only if you’re done hearing about Jim.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Ha ha.” Bucky came over, keeping Astrid’s eyes on him as he came around the desk. “Hey, ‘Strid-“ he employed the same method he had used on the Wyngarde sister, slamming the side of his gun into her temple just hard enough to shake around some loose change. “You have great thighs.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Oof.” Natasha exhaled as the gun connected with her sisters temple. Deftly moving to catch Yelena and ease her to the ground, the spy crouched down and inspected the welt that was already growing. It still didn’t look like Yelena, but she had stopped crying. “You could have been a little bit more graceful, but I’ll take it. Grab her.” Natasha rose. “We’re not leaving her for Taskmaster to find.” Best to let him think ‘Astrid’ had just abandoned her post or was doing her rounds. The S.H.I.EL.D. pager Bobbi had given her buzzed in her hand and Natasha pocketed it. “We’ve got a room. Intensive care unit, Room 8-1. You know, I always said Clint married up.” Grabbing Astrid’s badge for good measure, Natasha clicked the safety off on her gun. “Let’s go.”

KWANNON: Elsewhere, Psylocke and Laura had waited quietly in the shade of the building. The telepathic signal being emitted led the newly arrived X-Men to the hospital. Raven head tipped to the side, Psylocke held a hand out to gesture that Magik, Synch and Nico should enter the hospital. The door swung closed between them, faces flushing from recycled air. “Intensive Care Unit is the top floor. You know what to do?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Graceful?" it came out more as a scoff and Bucky crouched down, adjusting the AR to lay flat against his back again so he could sling Yelena's fake body over his shoulder. She hung limply, swaying back and forth when he stood. "When have you ever known me to be graceful." he said just as he twisted around, narrowly clipping Yelena's head on the edge of the counter. "ICU? What are the chances he'll be in a coma and I can just smother him."

EVERETT THOMAS: Synch followed Magik and the other witch into the hospital, trying his best not to let himself get too wrapped up in everything around him. This whole thing was pretty messed up of SHIELD, but his main focus was Laura. Even if she didn’t remember any of it, he still felt bonded to her in ways he could barely describe. And making sure she was safe was definitely high on his priorities. “Yeah, we’ve got it.” He responded to Kwannon, making sure to keep on high alert as he scanned their surroundings.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: The sneakers that she had worn as Lulu Gordon were more for show than actual practical use, and the treads were nearly nonexistent. Nat couldn’t actually remember working out in Pleasant Hill, just posing on her yoga mat for selfies instead. It was hard not to slide around with no traction but she pushed open a door to another stairwell and held it open for Bucky, watching to make sure he didn’t smack Yelena’s head into the wall. “You would have failed the Red Room,” she hummed. Presentation begets perfection, after all. Natasha had been the best. Yelena had been better. “Zemo’s at Town Hall. That’s not why we’re here. Ripley’s intubated upstairs. They’re making a play for the Infinity Stone. Did you read your file?” Stopping abruptly, Natasha flattened herself against the wall by the doorway of the next level. She could hear footsteps in the hall, and that felt deliberate in the quiet hospital. Gesturing with her chin towards the door, Nat pushed it open and raised her gun. She moved quickly to turn but still found her face connecting with a fist.

BUCKY BARNES: "I didn't care to read pages and pages of documents beyond who was who and what they were capable of." Which was a delicate way of saying, 'did you really think I would?'. Somewhere along the way of climbing flights, Bucky stashed Yelena's unconscious body in a medical supplies closet, knowing that she wouldn't wake up for a while and that he needed both hands. As soon as they both went into alert, hands moved too fast for Nat to dodge and him to barely skid to a stop and back up, gun immediately raising. He fired off a few rounds, the spray of bullets disoriented in the ambush.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Wiping blood off her nose, Natasha dropped her gun and kicked it to the side. Bullets never tended to work with Taskmaster. She’d keep it for backup. He had his shield and a collapsed bow. Claws in his gloves. Basically, he was as tricked out as ever. “Still sore about last time?” The ( former ) redhead squared her shoulders back. “Zemo can’t be offering you enough for this.” But he was silent, like always, and a moment later the two were locked in hand to hand combat.

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Sword pulled off of her back, Illyana cast a wary look around the hall. “I hate hospitals,” she muttered. Wanda’s spell was complicated but she had drilled it into the sorceress and witch. “It would be easier if we could teleport out after, but apparently we have to walk. No mutant left behind.” Lorna, Gabby, Rogue.

LAURA KINNEY: As the mutants made their way through the hospital, Laura paused and narrowed her eyes. There were more people in the hospital than their should have been. “Take the back.” She instructed Kwannon. “James Barnes is moving to the southern wing.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky dropped the gun, the strap catching on his shoulder before it banged against his hip. It was only Taskmaster, the asshole with the psuedo copycat style and a piss poor attitude. "Less talking-" he kicked at Taskmaster, just hard enough to diverge his attention and have him focused on both of them. "Glad I dropped our nice office secretary off, huh."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: He had got in three good hits but Natasha was at four. “Nursing student,” she huffed as she dodged a kick. “This is a dead end. He won’t quit. It’s called a distraction.”

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett followed closely behind, trying his best to keep close to Laura without making her feel like he was suffocating her. He didn’t want to make things weird in any way, but God was it hard. “Hey uh, are you okay?”

BUCKY BARNES: "So in all those times you've fought him, you never figured out a way to beat him?" They parried some more, moving this way and that. "I'm not going to leave you here to get your pretty yoga instructor face punched in."

BOBBI MORSE: One of the doctor’s personal offices had always been stocked for agents -- as a safety precaution. It was working well in their favor. Her locker held a spare uniform and set of staves that she gratefully hooked into their holsters before grabbing three disruptors. One went onto her own neck and her body shuddered in relief as her appearance twisted back to its regular self. She broke out in a sprint until she found Barnes and Romanoff, and Bobbi tossed them each a chip before kicking off the wall to strike Taskmaster with a baton. As she should have predicted, his bow separated into staves of his own. “What’re you guys still doing down here?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: If she hadn’t been focused on not getting slashed in half with a sword, Natasha would have rolled her eyes. “It keeps evolving. More new heroes, more moves. We haven’t killed each other yet.” The elastic she had tied her hair up with was falling out, but then Bobbi was there. Nat caught the small chip and quickly fastened it on the back of her neck. There was a second before her body was her own once more, clothed in the uniform she had entered the town with. Even though she was lacking any of her weapons other than the Widow’s Bite, it felt good to see her own hands again. “How about my normal face getting punched in?”

BUCKY BARNES: "That isn't obvious?" Bucky said, arms coming up to cover his face when Taskmaster slammed a fist down. Jumping back, he caught the chip, using what he knew from the file to revert his appearance back into something a little bulkier, steadier, familiar. "It's not exactly easy to get to the reality stone harboring mad woman when there's 600 tons of body armor in the way."

LAURA KINNEY: Lips twitching, Laura pivoted on one heel. “I look like a cheerleader.” She had gone to pep rallies with pom-poms and enthusiasm. The whole nine yards. The worst part was that she had fun, on some level. That pretty much summed up how she was. “I want them to cast the spell so we can get out of here. No more Vaults, no more Pleasant Hill’s.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I have complete and total faith in this woman.” Bobbi held a hand to her temple to  stop her vision from swimming after a hit. “But we need to keep moving. Nat, you said you’re old friends. I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” When the redhead nodded, Bobbi arched a brow at Bucky before running into the nearest stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett couldn’t help his soft chuckle at the cheerleader comment as he nodded at her. “I mean, it’s not a bad look. Definitely not you, though.” He pointed out, nodding solemnly at her next words. But unfortunately, they were X-Men and this was probably not going to be the last Pleasant Hill. Or Vault. Before he could say much else, a scalpel flew through the air and stuck onto the wall next to them, revealing Bullseye standing down the hall. “Shit..”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian followed alongside the mutants as they made their way through the hospital, careful to be attentive to their surroundings. As they all rounded the corner, a scalpel was flung through the air, nearly hitting Viv in the face as it struck the wall and they were face to face with Bullseye. “We need to divide. We can’t let him keep us from the stone. Magik, Nico, I can phase us into her room? I think we’re close.”

BUCKY BARNES: "Shitty reunion." he looked over at Nat, only falling back from Taskmaster when he saw the confirmation in her steady gaze. Breaking off, he followed Bobbi up the stairs, finding no other obstacles before hitting a floor with double doors that read: Authorized Personnel Only: Intensive Care Unit. He slowed, weapon coming back around to rest in his grip. "They powered a whole town by putting a girl into a coma." he said it with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly convincing me they shouldn't become a government section lost to time." The room was empty when they entered, the doors clattering behind them. He wasn't sure keeping quiet had any point anymore. Gun poised, he scanned the empty beds, not even noticing the low beep of the monitor and the occupied bed because his eyes landed on Yelena, seated and scanning through...something. "Didn't I leave you in a broom closet?" he said a little breathlessly, grip tightening on the weapon.

YELENA BELOVA: Was she mad? Yes. At Bucky and Natasha? No. At S.H.I.EL.D.? Of course. At Zemo, at the situation. Yelena had been pissed when she came to in a broom closet, tossed to the side like a basic cleaning supply. She remembered Astrid Massey, but her face wasn’t her own. Bullseye had met her in the hallway. He had given her the device Zemo was passing around to his teammates, the disrupter returning her to her former form. As Benjamin headed down the  hallway to meet the ‘heroes’, Yelena moved to the ICU and found the Database. The codes were already unlocked from whatever doctor had run away mid scan from the intruders, and when the door opened Yelena glanced back over her shoulder. “Seemed more fun out here. I saw Taskmaster downstairs, but this was a better opportunity. They never let me up here. Now I know why.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Natasha is handling it.” Bucky remarked, lowering his weapon just a little bit. “I know what you’re doing, and it sucks to say this, but it isn’t helping. We can handle the database later, we need to deal with Ripley now.” he spoke pointedly at her, knowing that any form of coddling or soft spoken words didn’t apply here. Not that it ever did. Bucky could never imagine babying Yelena in any situation. “Just trust me on this.”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian quickly grabbed onto Magik and Nico, not wasting any time as she phased the three of them past Bullseye and through to Ripley’s hospital room.

LAURA KINNEY: At his comment, the arch of a brow broke Laura’s deadpan. “Debatable taste.” She commented offhandedly. At the sight of Bullseye she crouched, lunging towards him without claws. Kwannon could follow Viv and the spellcasters. Laura had no problem being a distraction.

YELENA BELOVA: “Natasha is getting her ass handed to her. Again.” The sisters had a messy history with Taskmaster. She hit a key and the code flashed red, the page turning to a simple box for an access code. “We have to shut down the Database.” Yelena straightened up to look at him, her own gun holstered. “We can’t let them do this anymore.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky worked through the tic in his jaw, leveling his voice. By now, his nerves were frayed. “Do you Yelena?” he lowered the gun even more until the barrel was pointed at the floor. “Do you trust me?”

YELENA BELOVA: For a long moment, she just stared. Did she? It wasn’t easily answered. “I want to.” Yelena replied honestly. A finger hovered above the key before she moved, body tightening and constricting as she fell.

BOBBI MORSE: Running behind due to having to disable to alarms on the floor, Bobbi skidded to a stop as she lowered her stun gun. “--She was going to hit the key, right?”

YELENA BELOVA: “Fuck. You.” Yelena hissed from the ground, fingers digging into the tile as she tried to pull herself up. She wasn’t going to hit the key.

BUCKY BARNES: “Seriously?” he hissed, the metal plates clamping into place audibly as he tightened his grip. “Seriously, Bobbi?” he was pissed, clearly. “No wonder you’re a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Bucky snatched the stun gun from Bobbi’s grip on his way past her, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it until it was in a bunch of little pieces before he finished his walk to Yelena. “She wasn’t going to hit the fucking key.” he crouched down, helping Yelena back to her feet. “What’s next? You want to hit Ripley too? Do you more good.”

BOBBI MORSE: “Oh, c’mon.” Bobbi muttered as she had the stun gun ripped away and trampled. It wasn’t like that would have been helpful for defense or anything. “Tell me she’s not a flight risk.” Dark eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hit Ripley. Hopefully wake her up. That goddamn stone is fragmenting and destabilizing the town. If it collapses we all may be written out off reality. No happy reunion with your girlfriend then, huh?”

YELENA BELOVA: Yelena just spit towards Bobbi’s feet as James help her up, holding on to his arm even when she was upright.

BUCKY BARNES: “You think you’re the one to call that?” he shot over his shoulder, fully standing now. “Being written out of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me this year.” he turned his attention to Yelena, looking her over but he didn’t ask her if she were okay. “You make an awful nurse, you know that?”

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Phasing in along with Viv and Nico, Illyana stepped around the broken black shards of a weapon. “Now this is where the party is.” She laughed slightly. Making her way to the bed, dark lined eyes narrowed at the woman. Tugging the hospital gown to the side, the red glow of the Stone was flickering under the white bandages. “They said you would have another fragment. We need two.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I think I’m deepest in the shit and have used the Database before, so I made a snap judgement call. It’s not like I shot her. We talked it out.” Bobbi didn’t flinch at the spit. “Maybe not for you, but there’s a lot of other people here.”

YELENA BELOVA: “Nursing student.” Yelena muttered. “The scrubs were ugly.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: She had smashed in the window of the wrong room during her entry, but Riri found the right one after checking for heat signatures. “You have a second fragment now.” The suit’s chamber opened to expose the Reality Stone shard. “Zemo’s got the third.”

BUCKY BARNES: “They were pretty ugly.” he agreed quietly, face pinched lightly at the edges. His head whipped sharply around at Riri’s entrance, completely ignoring Bobbi at this point. “So we go get Zemo.” he took a breath. “Finally.”

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: As the armored teen guided the Stone back to its host, Magik looked to Nico. “Are you ready?” It wasn’t really a question. With eyes glowing blue, she held a hand out over the chest of Ripley. “I’m going to be very unhappy if she chooses to smite us.”

NICO MINORU: Nico looked down at the incubated woman, trying her best not to be intimidated by the thought of all that could go wrong as she adjusted her grip on her staff and nodded. She looked towards Riri as she entered the room and smiled in relief at the sight of another stone. “Okay, yeah. Ready.” She agreed as she gripped her staff and held her other hand over Ripley to follow Magik. “Stabilize.” The staff emitted a glow as she focused herself onto the spell.

YELENA BELOVA: “Jim. What a nice young man.” Yelena scoffed. She paused, softening slightly as she turned to face Bucky fully. “Thank you.” Her tone was composed of genuine relief. Rising up to reach his face, Yelena pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

BOBBI MORSE: Determined to focus on the spell, Bobbi’s face twitched at Yelena and Bucky. Worse than high schoolers.

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: Drawing on Limbo, Illyana closed her eyes when she heard Nico’s staff and began chanting. Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormammu limbo ex angulis eminebant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. As she repeated Wanda’s words, the red began to glow and overtake the room. It burned so brightly that it overtook the space and ate everything else out entirely.

BUCKY BARNES: With his ungloved hand, bucky cupped the side of Yelena’s face. “I know.” he heard Illyana and Nico behind him but he didn’t look. He had a gut feeling where this was going and he was just…relieved to see Yelena again. It tugged somewhere deep in his chest, making him oddly angry all over again. He was exhausted, frustrated, but relieved. “Also, please don’t ever mention Jim again.” he said on what sounded like a breathy laugh. “C’mere.” Even though they didn’t do this, Bucky pulled Yelena in close, arms wrapping around her small frame.

NICO MINORU: Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormanmu limbo ex angulis emine ant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. Nico repeated alongside Magik, closing her eyes as the red glow overtook the entire room. Based on that, she hoped it was working. And she also hoped that they wouldn’t kill Ripley in the process.

YELENA BELOVA: Folding into him, Yelena stared at the two spellcasters. She hated magic. She hated how small it made her feel. She didn’t like Ripley either, but they all deserved better than this. “He was a victim too, at first.” The light was too bright then and Yelena had no choice but to avert her eyes.

RIPLEY RYAN: Every memory. Every life. Every backstory. The Town Database was comprehensive and the woman whose energy fueled it remembered every detail. For the first time since they had managed to restrain her, the stirrings of magic gave way to an elevated form of consciousness. Eyes and mouth open, red poured from them until reality was rattled by a burst of energy. Across the town, those left reverted to how they had looked before being changed. Faces returned and scarlet gave way to familiar bodies and clothes. When the wave washed over the hospital, it faded to reveal a blonde in a hospital gown standing in front of the mangled computer system. “I’m going to kill someone.”

LAURA KINNEY: The fight with Bullseye had ended, but Laura followed the scent of blood towards where the Black Widow and Taskmaster had fought. Natasha was fine, her adversary fleeing towards Zemo and the Town hall. When the redhead said she would follow him, Laura had left her to get to the ICU. Without her claws the fight had been a little different than she preferred, but not all of the blood on her was her own. By the time she got there, the room was awash in red. The force of the energy impact threw Laura against the wall, but when she straightened and came to, her cheerleading uniform was gone. The yellow and blue of her Wolverine suit had returned and when she flexed her hands she felt the adamantium.

BOBBI MORSE: Ripley looked mad, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be. “That’s valid.” She limbed to her feet. “But can we raincheck? Your Stone -- it fractured. From what was being done. We got you a piece on it, but Zemo has a shard at Town Hall. Do I need to tell you how badly this could go?”

RIPLEY RYAN: Of course she didn’t need to. Ripley could feel Pleasant Hill destabilizing and reality growing thin. It Zemo accomplished his goals, he’d be taking her down. It was hard to live with a stone in your chest. it would be impossible to be fragmented. Even then, she could feel the other part calling out. Raising a hand, Ripley looked at the group. TOWN HALL. With that, the hospital was empty as they vanished in a flash of crimson.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Your Mission

Bucky x Reader (Agent 16) Description: Why not tease and test the super soldierness. Warnings: 18+, fluff, teasing, smut, a LOT of smut and bodily fluids, not beta read

Agent 16 Masterlist | General Masterlist

You had made it your mission to tease him whenever you could. The easiest way to do so, was to wear tight or revealing clothes around him. Today it was a cropped hoodie and high waisted silk shorts. Thigh high socks, sneakers and space buns. You entered the room that had a few Avengers in it and saw him eye you, blushing a little and then give you glances of what you could only could describe as sexual frustration. "Anything on the plan for today?" you asked the round. "Only training." Nat smiled back at you while Steve deliberately tried to not stare at you in those clothes. "I think I'll start picking up dancing for cardio again." A shared smile. She loved ballet and you loved hiphop. "Wanna get it over with?" she looked into the round and a collective nod was the answer. You had tons of choreographies you learned online in your head. The gift of being able to memorize patterns like this was also helping in your job. Made fighting and reloading a gun easier. Nat, Wanda and you had made your own little dance playlist that worked for all of you in training and as soon as that started playing there was no way out. Working out with you in that outfit, shaking your behind in his field of sight was definitely in his personal category of "I don't know if this is motivating or just frustrating." He definitely got all of his work done faster than usual. Maybe because he knew what he was about to do.

The second you left the gym he caught you right by the door and got you into his room in seconds. "Did someone like what he saw?" a provocative smile came from you. "I never wanted you to bend over the kitchen counter so much." he growled. Your eyes widened at his straight forward approach but it was definitely working between your legs. "Tell me more." you bit your lip before turning around, landing on his bed and wiggling your ass towards him. The sight of you in dark blue silk shorts was making his pants feel uncomfortable. "Friday, lock the room." he looked up for a second before his sweatpants hit the floor. "And you. You better grab a pillow to muffle yourself with, until I'm done with you." he grabbed the waist band of your shorts and pulled them down to see silk underwear. Black silk panties that were drenched in excitement for him. "Haven't even touched you." he grinned before pulling it down too and pushing your hips up a little right after. "You ready?" he asked almost too sweet and got a muffled "Mhm." The ease with which he was gliding into you was driving him mad. "You feel great, darling." he mumbled completely high from endorphines. A drop on the mattress made him grin, "Didn't know you were so ready for me." He picked up a fast pace while his lips were all over your back and a hand was massaging you in big circles. Muffled moans were only making him go faster and his hand shake to tease you. There were more drops landing on the mattress and running down your thighs. "God, you really like to be dominated. I see." he chuckled before going at a speed only he would be able to hold and god were those muffled and shaky moans doing it for him. "Good girl. Cum with me." he mumbled into your ear and with slower but deeper thrusts he felt your walls begging for him and bit your shoulder to not groan at the amazing feeling. "You liked that, baby?" he chuckled and your face came out of the pillow with a dopey smile. "You could do that all day and I would still want more." you whispered. "Sooo...you want one more?" he grinned and you grinned right back. "You gonna kill me one day." he chuckled before he started moving again. You felt him twitch and fully grow hard again inside of you and you were practically gushing from your center at this point. "Fill me up." you gave a small moan before landing back in the pillow and god was he on a mission to fulfill that wish. "Not gonna stop till you're full of me, sugar." he chuckled into your ear, grabbing your hands you were offering him by your hips. His thrusts were long, slow and deep. As if he knew this was the secret to your second orgasm. It drove you insane, made you whimper and made you claw into his right hand. "Yeah, baby. Feels good right there, right?" he said while hitting the spot again. "Mmmmmh." "You're doing so good, darling." He heard you whimper and smirked. "Looking so good like this." he thrusted a little harder, making you flinch. "You look so good filled up with me." he had a deep growl he couldn't stop escape his body. He couldn't hold himself back anymore and started pounding into your waterfall like his life depended on it and you were in heaven. Even going crosseyed in the pillow at how good he worked you to your second time. He really had to work the second orgasm out of you but, hell, was it worth it with how much harder you clenched around his length, now not only dripping on your own but letting a little of his love escape you. "You want more?" he chuckled. "I don't even care if I cum this time. I just wanna know how long you can go on with it." you giggled. "If anybody asks what we did...we watched a movie. Cause I have about an hour of lovemaking in me." he groaned into your ear. Without the goal of making you cum and the freepass of just showing you how much you making him crazy he didn't even stop anymore. He pressed you down into the pillow, keeping as much of him inside of you as he could since you seemed to love being filled with him. "You sure you want more?" "James, I've never wanted to be sore so much in my life. Fill. Me. Up." you almost growled saying it and now he didn't even know anymore who obeyed who. He said an hour but 30 minutes in you didn't even count anymore. He could go forever, building new cells wasn't the problem. After those 30 minutes he managed to have you close to your 3rd time. You really needed a bit in between to recover. You weren't him. "You close again, sugar?" "Mmhmmm." you clawed into the pillow under your head by now. "Want me to count you down?" A whimper, so a yes. "5." a strangled muffled moan. "4." a deep thrust. "3." you started shaking. "2." another deep thrust. "1." you were vibrating, a usual occurence for your body being overworked. "Cum for me, darling." he whispered and the intensity with which your body grabbed onto his length almost made him faint while he filled you up another time. "Good girl." "Go on. Don't stop." you said panting. "I'm gonna get 4 out of you." he grinned. He enjoyed this experiment a lot, the way your entire inner thighs were wet by now, the way you were glistening and glowing on his bed with your head deep in the pillow he slept on. He could ignore his own soreness just looking at you. You were exhausted by now but you loved this man so much and there was nothing you wanted more right now than to be close to him and feel this sensation a fourth time. You stopped counting again when you felt his hand on your clit again and gasped into the pillow. "You're doing amazing, sugar. Just need you one last time." his low voice was right by your ear. Your eyes were tearing up from oversensitivity now but he felt so good where he was. "You're taking me so well, baby, so well. Just need you to take me one more time." "I love how much you crave me." "Mhmmm." You grabbed his head closer and he decided to bite your neck again, getting a high pitched muffled moan out of you. "Such pretty moans. Wanna hear them turn into screams. Understood?" you shivered at the sudden dominance again. "Mhm-mmmmh." you tried to agree but the fingers on your clit were already going at a speed making you sob out for your release. With moans turning into muffled screams you didn't only clench around him, sending him straight to heaven but you also made a mess all over his bed. Not that it wasn't a mess before but this was an extra mess. "Good lord, that was beautiful." he muttered looking down at your sweaty hair and your head on the side still panting. "Wanna make more of a mess?" he chuckled again and you had a silent giggle. He finally left you and you started gushing his love of the last hour out of you. "God, sweet jesus, that's hot. Wow." he said overwhelmed and you giggled again. You sat up on your knees and even more of his love left you and dripped down your thighs like you were a cake and this was the glacing. You held eye contact reaching down before licking it off your thumb and if his swallow wasn't enough of a sign for being turned on his hard on definitely was. "I'll have to deny." you grinned. "I know. But that was the hottest thing ever." "Sometimes I like being used a bit. But only by a man that can't break my heart." you grinned before grabbing him for a sweet little kiss. "You wanna take a bath while I..." he eyed the bed. "Sure." and shortly after there was water running and a man carrying you into the bathroom cause you were definitely not walking for the rest of the day. "I hate how adorable you can look in a bubble bath after all of that." he chuckled, gave you a kiss on the forehead and left to clean. You took your time getting clean and relaxed. After a while you gave up on waiting for him to join, got out of the bathtub, went for your usual routines before coming out of the bathroom to see your underwear neatly folded. He cleared his throat and you looked at the typical soft man you fell in love with. "No, I didn't contemplate keeping them." he innocently looked up. "I love you, idiot." you reached up for a little kiss before walking past your underwear to open his set of drawers and put on his underwear. A content grumble from behind you made you smirk. "You look good in anything that's mine, huh?" he eyed you with a proud smile. You went on to put on your bra with his fascinated eyes on you. He still wasn't over that bra that opened in the front. "Can I have a sweater?" you smirked and he supressed his laughter. "What a full circle moment." he grinned before nudging his head towards the chest of drawers. He started wearing his sweaters so you could wear them and have his smell with you all day. "I love you so much, just for doing little things like having an extra pile of sweaters just for me." you got into bed next to him, a motion he could get used to. "Of course, love you just as much, sugar plum." he grabbed you closer. "What did you think when you saw me inside of your room, putting on a sweater?" you needed to know. "Well, first I thought you were spying on me but then I saw you put on the sweater and...I honestly just wanted to scare you a bit. Was onto your little crush in about...4 minutes. Otherwise I would've never had the balls to come to your room, asking you if what we had was a date." "Nawwww." you nuzzled into his neck. "What did you think?" he asked back squeezing your waist. "I was scared you were mad at me, then confused cause you were okay with it. Then I just wanted to run cause I was kinda ready to jump out of a window at that point and then even more confused when you knocked. Not gonna lie, I kinda wanted you to go on after you put off the three hoodies." a shared giggle lit up the room. "Was it your mission to make me sexually frustrated with that outfit by the way?" he looked down at you with a stern look. "My mission is always to turn you on." "Well, mission accomplished." "I love you, Mr. I'm-a-super-soldier-and-could-go-for-hours." "I love you too, Mrs. Wants-to-be-full-of-me." A giggly kiss was shared.

Agent 16 Masterlist

[starkeristheendgame]

The comms crackle into life just as Tony was about to take a bite out of his hamburger. It's standard, really. He's come to the conclusion he was probably a Politician or an equally deplorable being in his past life.

Maybe a cat. They're meant to assholes, right?

"Everyone in proximity of the 4th sector, be vigilant. Tony's favourite headache is approaching the area like an antelope".

It's Steve, sleepy and dull through the comms. Though the kid keeps them on their toes, he's been long passed off as harmless. Tony sighed and set his burger down, heaving himself to his feet.

"I got him" he muttered, allowing the helmet to envelop his face. He didn't need to ask JARVIS, the AI automatically brought up the tracker Tony had slipped onto the kid the last time, and with a last, forlorn look at his snack, he let the thrusters take him upwards.

It wasn't hard to find the kid. Even amongst the jungle of towering buildings, swinging about in the sky made you pretty noticeable. It also didn't hurt that the kid had chosen a bright red and a rich blue as his colour scheme. He changed his flight path and aimed straight for the kid.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it bats that operate at night?" He asked casually as they glided towards each other.

To his credit, the kid didn't seem surprised when Tony came gliding into view. Despite his best efforts to re-aim, body twisting in the air, Tony still caught him, rolling elegantly to his side and snatching the kid by the waist. The kid struggled for a brief moment, pawing at his back and trying to physically crawl over his shoulder, but Tony cuffed him on the back of the head and the struggling stopped as the kid went limp in his hold, like a scruffed puppy.

Tony held him close, supporting his weight as he altered course and made haste back his sector before some nosy ass with a scope caught them (Clint). He made aim for a building deep within his assigned sector, and knew exactly which one to land home at. There was a small radio shack atop it, and Tony flew them right to the door, landing light on his feet.

The kid was just catching his balance when Tony used the side of his leg to push the door open, metal fingers curling around a slim wrist to drag the kid in after him. As his helmet begun to flow down his temples and cheeks he reached out, grasping the edge of the mask and tugging upwards.

The pink, plush mouth came first, already curved into a pout. Framed by round, milky cheeks and giving way to a set of dark, honey eyes. Last was the hair, thick and ruffled and falling in waves across his head. Tony let himself take a pause, fingertips skating a ringlet before he pressed the mask into the kid's hand and let their gazes meet.

"We talked about this" he reminded him, voice rough as he took stock of the wide pout, the way the boy leaned back against the wall, hips jutted forwards. It was a cocky post, arrogant and defiant. Tony adjusted his own stance, pressing the boy back, flat against the wall.

"I never said I'd stop" the boy whispered, cheeky and light, eyes sparkling in the glow of the reactor. He was right, of course. It just made Tony want to kiss him more, to lick the sass from his mouth.

"Peter, it's not safe. There's attacks almost nightly, we're all on fucking rota for watching the streets...You-"

"Got your attention" Peter finished, coy and syrupy as slim fingers curled around his metal bicep, fingertips sliding down, along the inside of his elbow. Even though it wasn't direct contact, it still made Tony's skin prickle. He tried to speak, but could manage only a growl, hands raising to grip Peter's hips, thumbs pressing against the bone.

"Sweetheart. Baby boy, it's not safe for you to be out. And if you keep chasing me down, the others are gonna suspect something" he pointed out softly, pressing a little harder just to see his lashes flutter, just to listen to his breath hitch.

"Is that what you care about, Mr. Stark? About keeping me your dirty, slutty little secret?" Peter murmured in response, gaze dipping to the crotch of the suit slyly before raising, if only to Tony's mouth. "Scared I'll want to try something new if I get close to them? That it? I'll bet the serum made everything bigger on Captai-"

Tony let out a deep, guttural sound, sliding one hand from hip to between the boys thighs, spandex and kevlar doing nothing to keep him from the pretty, hard little cock that strained there. It cut Peter's words into a high gasp, spine arching and hips nudging forwards.

"You want Captain America so bad? You'd have gone to sector two" he purred cruelly, palming the delicate bulge. Peter could only whine and clutch at his arms, fingers sliding against the smooth metal. Tony took both his hands away and pressed them to Peter's shoulders, pushing down until the boy slid breathlessly along the wall, collapsing onto his heels and looking up at him with wide, hungry eyes.

He let the suit receed, flowing away from his body to bring Peter's face level with his own cock, hard and impatient against the fabric of his trousers. The boy almost went crosseyed looking at it, tongue lolling and eyes devouring. Tony let him look for a while, before burying his hand in those thick, silky curls, tugging until Peter looked up again.

"You wanted this so bad, darling? So hungry for cock you were willing to disobey me, put yourself at risk? So eager for the team to find out you're my desperate little whore?"

Peter could only mewl in response, eyes glossy and gone already, hands pawing at Tony's thighs needily. A quick tip of his head showed his watch and he let go of Peter's hair, taking those slim, delicate wrists in hand and guiding Peter to his cock.

"You have ten minutes before we rotate. I suggest you work hard".

[poc-movie-supremacy]

Has life been good to you?

A.N.: This is a future!fic, westallen are elderly people in this story. It’s date night for them. If you have any constructive criticism, tell me, but don’t be mean about it, please. I hope you enjoy this fic! (also I don’t own any characters or setting related to the flash tv show or the comics)  

_______

Her joints ache as she puts away a finished book. She slowly walks around the room, searching for her tablet to play a card game. The room is quiet, lit with the glow of the sun. It filtered through the redwoods surrounding their cabin. This cabin used to belong to Barry’s father, but after the kids proved fine on their own and no one needed the Flash, they retired to it. It was quaint and quiet. It was odd at first, but then it became a gift. She felt more relaxed than she has in a while. Life never became lonely either, not with the ability to portal anywhere. 

Iris found her crossword puzzle and settled down in the big red armchair in the living room. Today is date ‘night’. Well more like date afternoon, Iris is almost 75 she’s going to bed earlier and earlier. Barry had gone out to the store to buy some forgotten stuff for dinner. He was still a lot more nimble than Iris in his old age. On good days he could carry her to their bed, but usually he just threaded his arm through hers and walked her to bed. She was grateful for it, Iris underestimated Grandma Esther when she was watching Iris. Doing most things in her old age was a lot harder than it seems. Barry helped her a lot though which she thinks he likes. It makes him feel needed, she figures. 

After about an hour Iris heard the door opening. “Hey honey I’m back.” Barry entered the house carrying two paper bags filled with stuff.

Iris put down her crossword, “Hi baby, do you need any help with the groceries?” 

“No, I just needed these things.” Barry peaked his head over the wall to give her a sheepish smile. Iris arched her eyebrow curiously at her husband. “I may have gotten more than I needed.” 

Iris gave her husband a look but smiled.  “It’s alright, we probably don’t have to go shopping soon then.”

Barry finished putting away all the groceries. He sped over to his wife. “I don’t think so. I bought wine and mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

Iris’s eyes lit up. “You bought wine and mint chocolate chip! Oh, can we have it for dinner?” Iris squeezed her husband’s hand and pouted at him.

Barry looked at Iris fondly. His free hand swept a loose gray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, but for dessert. I’m making lasagna for us.”

“Need any help?”  

“No it’s ok. Lasagna’s easy to make.” Barry also didn’t want Iris in the kitchen since she couldn’t cook that well even after all this time. She glared at him but stayed where she was. Barry leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. 

After turning on the music, Barry bustled around the kitchen preparing the lasagna. Iris hummed softly to the music as she told her husband a bizarre story that apparently happened to their granddaughter. She had dressed up as a chicken in an attempt to vandalize her rival school, but when she heard of a man intent on ill will towards old ladies, she, in a chicken costume, took her friends, also in chicken costumes, took him down. Thankfully they beat him, sustaining only minor injuries. 

Barry’s eyebrows shot up. “Her first time fighting crime was in a chicken suit?” 

Iris laughed out loud. “Mhm. Joey and Melanie were not amused when they found out. Joey called me almost raving about how irresponsible those kids were. It took a lot of effort to not laugh. Once he realized what he was complaining about he apologized, to both of us.” 

Barry chuckled. “Moments like these remind me why Joe said he couldn’t wait for us to have kids. I’m glad they’re ok. You think Cisco’s fuming that his great-niece went out super-heroing and not only did she not ask him for a suit, but the suit she did go out in was a chicken suit?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised. It happened last week I think, so we’ll be hearing about this soon.” Iris said.  

Barry's eyes sparkled in mirth as layering the lasagna. Iris shivered and slowly walked around the house closing the windows. “Ok I put it in the oven, in 45 minutes we will be having lasagna.” Barry ambled over to his wife who had just closed the kitchen window. He wrapped his long frame entirely around her. Old age has made them shorter, but he still had a good foot on her. Iris buried her face into his chest and returned the hug.

“Still cold?” Barry whispered.

“Mmm not anymore.”

“Sorry.”

Iris looked up at him crosseyed and pouting. Barry giggled at his cute wife, it did not help change her facial features. She stuck her tongue out at him then continued cuddling her husband. Barry looked at his wife dreamily and smiled dopily. He looked at her like that so much his friends nicknamed his dopey. (Harry got nicknamed grumpy. He wasn’t amused) Barry didn’t mind the nickname though, it was true. He was in love with her, has been since they were kids and she offered him cookies on the playground. Now 68 years later, they survived every damn thing no one could think of, had kids and grandkids, and got married. The song that came on made Iris’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Do you remember this?” A thousand years was playing on the tablet. 

“That movie was horrible.” Barry groaned. He remembered that day like it was yesterday even though it had been decades ago. It had been a tiring day fighting crime, so they decided to rewind by watching a movie. Iris got them a ton of snacks then Barry curled up into her side. She mindlessly ran her fingers through her hair while she looked for a rom-com to watch. By accident, they watched the fifth twilight movie. It definitely wasn’t their favorite and Cicso definitely didn’t approve of their choice, but the song, a thousand years, was the one thing they liked from that movie. 

“It wasn’t the best no, but the song, this song, was really beautiful,” Iris remarks. Barry is struck with a good idea. He reluctantly pulls a little away from the hug to put them in a waltz form (even though the song wasn’t a waltz to their knowledge). 

He quietly sings Christina Perry's song to Iris. It’s one of her favourite things about him. They slowly sway side to side as they dance in the kitchen. He spins her around and kisses her temple. When the lyrics, time stand still, come up Barry flashes them into flashtime. He cupped her face and kissed her softly. When they stopped, he rested his forehead against hers. She happily sighed, eyes closed and smiling. She felt lucky that they were able to be together this long. She remembers thinking that he was going to die in the future, when she was going to die, and she counts her blessings that neither of those futures came true. 

“I love you.” He whispers, and he looks at her like she hung the freaking moon. Her hands softly fiddle with his thick red sweater with the gold trim. (It was a gift from Kara)

“I love you.” She adores him, she adores everything he does for her, she wonders if she has repaid the favor. 

“You’re gorgeous. You get more beautiful with every passing day.”

“Every hour every minute?” Iris asks cheekily. He laughs and twirls her. She thinks it’s the loveliest sound in the world. 

“Every hour every minute and then some. You are an angel, Iris West-Allen, and I am lucky to have you.” He’s starting to sweat. Using his powers drains him more quickly than it used to. He doesn’t want her to notice, but she does. 

“I am lucky to have you, Bar.” Her voice is quieter when she says this next part. “It’s ok, baby, take us out of flashtime, you’re tired.”

Even though he knows he should, he still tries to argue with her. “No, I’m ok Iris,” 

She gives him an unimpressed look. Some things never change. Barry yields to her good judgement pretty quickly. Now they can hear the rustle of the trees and music from the tablet. Iris leads Barry to the couch and she goes to get some milk and a power bar.

“The lasagna will be done in 25 minutes.” Iris handed him the powerbar and glass of milk. Barry took the milk from her and put it on the nightstand. He pulled Iris to his side and took a bite out of his bar. She rested her head atop his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was it’s usual quick pace which she found comforting. Barry ran his finger through her hair methodically. His thumb started to caress an old scar on her hairline. 

“Do you ever miss when we used to be heroes, out on the streets catching criminals, helping people?”

“We still do, help people I mean. Playing card games with Cynthia, baking with Kara, trading books with Diggle, meditating with Wally, it keeps us all sane. As for the first part, it was a thrilling life with a lot of rewards, but it wasn’t the safest life. You know we’re lucky to have lived so long.” The green arrow mask on the mantle and other knick-knacks from other dead heroes was a big reminder of that. 

“Time has been good to us,” Barry remarks. He doesn’t say that not everyone has been so lucky, but she knows. He knows she knows when she curls closer to him.

“Time, the speed force, life’s been good to us all, let’s hope the next generation has the same luck.”

“Let’s hope.” The rest of the night was relatively quiet. The lasagna was delicious and completely gone by the end of the night. The wine and ice cream made them a little more giggly than before. After two glasses each they called it quits and headed to bed. After readying themselves for bed, Barry and Iris curled themselves up in bed. A small part of her head was the only thing peeking out from under the mattress, resting by his chest. Blankets were piled on top of her. Barry squeezed Iris’s hand.

“Goodnight, my love.” As he was about to turn off the light he saw a photo on his nightstand. It was a photo of them, their parents, their kids, their spouses, and their grandkids. The other photos around them were of their friends throughout the years. Time has been good to me, he muses. Turning off the light cocooning himself around his wife, they drift off to sleep, at peace.

[dollsorwhatever]

Disney Bloodbath

Today was a very, very exhausting day lmfao  Long semi-interesting doll story and pictures of the new LE Ariel under the cut!

I stayed up all night waiting for Disney Store to list the new Limited Edition Ariel doll online, which usually happens at midnight PST (3am my time), but she never showed up lmfao. I guess they’ve recently changed the launch time to 7am PST (10am my time) for the newer dolls, but rather than risking the chance of losing her online (and worried about defects) I decided I didn’t need to sleep and instead would go to the mall at seven AM with my mom, wait for them to open the doors, and then sit outside of the Disney Store until they opened at ten. So... three hours of literally standing there doing basically nothing but waiting for Disney to open the door lmfao.  I actually snuck into the mall through the service entrance but was caught by security, and they had me wait outside of the mall until they actually opened the doors, then I could go wait at DS until they opened lol I’d never actually purchased an LE doll directly from a Disney Store location so I was really confused about how to do everything, but the 3 people waiting with me were pretty helpful-basically you go to the front of the closed-up Disney Store and line up, then once the store opens the employee will tell you what they have in stock and then give each person a ticket, reserving their items for them (starting at the front of the line, so first come first serve), and then you just go to the register once the store opens, give them the ticket and they sell you the doll. Apparently it’s sometimes different for Designer Dolls (they’ve done right-to-buy lotteries a few times) but the ticket system is always done with the 17′‘ dolls.  Ofc I didn’t know about the line thing until after two people had already started the line, putting me in third place and...wow, what luck lmfao.  Lady finally comes out after two hours of standing at the entrance to tell us how many they have of each doll. They had two Vanessa dolls, and the two people in front of me just happened to want her as well lol so I was fucked with Vanessa (they only made 2000 of her, half of which were for Europe, meaning the US only got 1000 dolls for the entire country-yikes), but they had eight Ariel dolls and one was reserved for me (I almost had my mom get another one for me too but I didn’t want to be greedy, there were like ten other people behind us by the time the store opened) I was a little sad about Vanessa, but I only decided I wanted her, like, yesterday, so I wasn’t invested in her enough yet to really care so I laughed it off and took my Ariel. Plus I already had a list of other dolls I wanted from the DS so I knew I’d end up with a pretty good haul lol. I’ve decided to just pay the scalper prices for Vanessa for Christmas since I really do want her, but she can wait! After picking and purchasing my Ariel I decided to go with the new Ariel and Her Sisters mini doll set because they’re soooo well designed and detailed, and I have a huge thing for both mini dolls and mermaids. Also I still regret never getting the Wreck it Ralph Princess set when ti wasn’t 300$ and figured this would soften the blow lol And then I looked around at the Animators dolls, since I had Moana and the new Rapunzel and Ariel dolls on my list, but Ariel looked crosseyed in person and all of the Rapunzels had really thin hair, so I passed on them and went with something else that I’d been eyeing for a little bit.  Don’t laugh at me it’s SUCH a silly purchase lol

Baby Rapunzel!! Okay, it’s not really that dumb, because she’s fucking adorable but I really have no use for a literal baby doll and a crib, logically speaking lol. But I’ve wanted a doll of this scene since Tangled had first come out, and this is the best baby Rapunzel ever done. Look at her lively little face! And her thick shiny hair!! The detailed little crib! UGH she’s even cuter than in the movie. HER EARS ARE BLUSHED TOO OMG

Oh also she was 80$ so...yeah SILLY My only disappointment with her is that she’s like a baby doll baby doll, like her body is plush with a vinyl head, arms and legs, when I assumed she was all vinyl. Kind of weird and makes it really hard to style her hair when she’s flopping around, but she’s fucking adorable sooooo idgaf But back to the doll that has now deprived me of 42 hours of sleep, Ariel!

I love her so much, I’ve been impatiently waiting for Disney to replace her old 17′’ head sculpt with something new, with a new screening, and they finally delivered this year! I took like, two pictures of her freshly deboxed and mint before I did my usual blasphemy and stripped her down for some hair styling:

Miss Fish, who do you think you are, coming into MY HOUSE with crunchy ass hair like that?? Some tidbits about her outfit- the jewelry is all metal, you need to remove her hands to get off the (gorgeous) bracelets, and the halter on her bra doesn’t have a clasp- I had to undo the chain to remove it, but the connector rings are pretty large so it was easy as hell and I put it right back together once I took it off. The back of the actual bra fastens with velcro, though.  And the flower ornament? demonic. It has strings of pearls hanging down, done with clear thread to make the pearls look like they’re just stuck in her hair I guess. Whatever, it was tied into her hair in several sections and I literally pulled off all of the pearls to remove it, and I’m gonna add a clip to the flower to use on it’s own. They also did some tweaks to the 17′’ body, though I’m not sure when this happened- the elbows have improved articulation as a result of them shaving off the back of the elbows a little more, making them less like Barbie Fashionista arms and more like Pivotal or FR arms. I’ve also noticed this change on the 12′’ dolls, so that’s great.  The upper leg joints look slightly different too, but Idk if that’ss my imagination. I haven’t tried to make her sit so I truly don’t know.  And I really really need to talk about these HANDS. They’re so beautiful. Gone are the ugly graceless hands of the old dolls, say hello to these beautifully sculpted hands (though Vanessa still annoyingly has the old hands lol):

Now all they need to do is get rid of those HIDEOUS hinged knees, replace them with pivotal knees and give the body some better feet- I hate the articulated feet on this body, they’re MINISCULE and have the ugliest shape. Please Disney save the lower half of this body!! After about five seconds of enjoying her stock look, I stripped her down and washed her hair:

I really need to know how they made her hair so crinkly and frizzy, because the natural texture is clearly a smooth, soft wave. I don’t know if this makes me a fake fan, but I actually despise Ariel’s bangs, especially on dolls. They’re IMPOSSIBLE to keep organized, especially with nylon hair, and I wish they left it all long instead of doing the bangs.  Luckily, they actually do look pretty nice on this doll and I’m certain I can make them look good even when they’re dry.  This is how she’s looking right now, while I’m letting her hair dry. Will likely flat iron it some but I’m really shocked and pleased with how nicely it washed out:

And once again showing off those stunning hands. I love them so much.  I’m tired, I’m hungry and I am very broke now, but I’m very happy and proud of myself for pushing so hard to get this doll and the adorable baby Rapunzel, along with the Ariel And Her Sisters set.   Definitely need one of the Vanessa dolls next month, and perhaps even the D23 Ariel because I hate myself lol.  Hope ya’ll enjoyed the longest post in the history of mankind!